^^ 
 
 NIM 
 
 ni«^-. 
 
 :^r. 
 
 C3^ 
 
 f/T \\i* 
 
 HhkSm 
 
 ■^ '^W #\^ 
 
 BOOK 242.H445M c. 1 
 
 HERVEY # Meditations and 
 
 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 3 T153 000bt,732 1 
 

 ■&£< 
 
^L 
 
 H^ 
 
MEDITATIONS 
 
 AND 
 
 CONTEMPLATIONS. 
 
MEDITATIONS aq 
 
 AND 
 
 CONTEMPLATIONS. 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES HERVEY, A.M. 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, 
 
 THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR F. C. AND J. RIVINGTON- G. WILKIE3 J, NUNN5 
 LONGMAN AND CO.} J. MAWMAN 3 DARTON AND CO.} 
 BALDWIN AND CO. } LAW AND WHITTAKER } LACKINGTON 
 AND CO.} R. S.KIRBY} J.WALKER} EDWARDS AND KNIBB } 
 AND T. AND J. ALLMAN } 
 
 BY S. HAMILTON, WEYBRIDGE, SURREY. 
 1818. 
 
ri*i**To v*">^ 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REV. JAMES HERVEY, A.M. 
 
 Whenever we meet with an intelligent or superior cha- 
 racter, we naturally feel a wish again to fall into his com- 
 pany, to listen to his conversation, to observe his manners, 
 and to improve our acquaintance with him ; yet this natural 
 curiosity is seldom gratified to the extent of our wishes. 
 The differences of ages, of places, and of ranks, must limit 
 the acquaintance of man. Every situation has its duties to 
 be performed. This rational curiosity, which personal in- 
 timacy cannot often gratify, biography may supply in a 
 degree ; and it is one of the most pleasing and useful 
 labours of a biographer to trace the opening of genius, to 
 pursue the progress of learning, to observe the formation of 
 superior habits of piety and benevolence. 
 
 Perhaps few men were ever better known by their 
 writings, or less known in the common circles of society, 
 than the Rev. James Hervey, the subject of these Memoirs. 
 At all times he was studious and contemplative 5 generally 
 he was sequestered in a country village 5 and often he was 
 confined by sickness and great languor. He had no taste 
 for the amusements or the converse of the generality of the 
 
VI JIEJIOIRS OF THE 
 
 world. The particular events of his life were not diversified 
 with much variety of circumstances ; but the temper of the 
 man, the course of his studies, the bent of his mind, and 
 the benevolence of his heart, exhibit a most useful lesson, 
 and may be partly discovered in his various works. 
 
 He was born February 14, 1714, at Hardingstone, a 
 village near Northampton, where the family had resided 
 some time. His father was rector of Weston Favell and 
 Collingtree, both in that neighbourhood. The Herveys 
 were an ancient and opulent family in that county, formerly 
 having large possessions at Hardingstone and at Weston: 
 an ancestor of theirs had been a judge j and Mr. Hervey's 
 great-grandfather represented the town of Northampton in 
 parliament. Mr, J. Hersey had the peculiar advantage, 
 which never can be too much valued, of being descended 
 from a pious and respectable family. 
 
 He had two brothers and three sisters. His brothers 
 settled in London, and deserved the characters of respect- 
 able tradesmen : one was a packer, whom he attended in 
 his last illness ; the other was a wine-merchant, who sur- 
 vived him many years. His mother superintended the first 
 part of his education, and taught him to read. At seven 
 years of age he was sent, with his brother, to the free 
 grammar-school at Northampton, of which the Rev. Mr. 
 Clarke, vicar of St. Sepulchre's, in that town, was the 
 master. 
 
 In the common routine of a school education the marks 
 of future genius may be entirely overlooked : or, most 
 probably, they have no ways discovered themselves ; like 
 beautiful flowers which do not open till late in the spring 
 or summer. Boys are more like to each other than men. 
 A lad may be thoughtless, or idle, who hereafter shall 
 appear in a very different light. The superior mind may 
 not be discovered, without impeaching the master's judg- 
 ment, or imputing it to the mean motives of jealousy and 
 envy. 
 
BEV, JAMES HEBVEY. Vll 
 
 With a common share of school learning, with bot little 
 knowledge of the world, and with general impressions of 
 piety, young Mr. Hervey was entered at Lincoln College^ 
 Oxford. One of the joint tutors at that time was the Rev. 
 Richard Hutchins^ afterwards rector of that college ; a man 
 of abilities, integrity, and piety, reserved in his manners^ 
 but who perplexed the refinements of a strong but not a 
 brilliant mind with philosophical necessity, and called the 
 attention of the public to the supposed fate of children 
 dying in their infancy, from the good or the evil which God 
 knew or foreknew they would have done, had they been 
 permitted to live. A long life and a placid old age was the 
 reward of his temperance and regularity. 
 
 For some time Mr, Her>ey lived like the generality of 
 the young men who come to college : released from the 
 confinement and discipline of school, they are pleased with 
 a liberts' which they know not how to enjoy, and are in- 
 trusted with opportunities which they are not eager to 
 improve. Without a direct object before it to engage and 
 concentrate its powers, the youthful mind wanders in the 
 fields of fancy, or sinks in the slumbers of indolence : the 
 example and the conversation of the generality of their 
 superiors is not calculated to excite the spirit of emulation, 
 to diffuse the charms of knowledge, or to advance the 
 cause of genuine piety. 
 
 His other tutor was the Rev. J. Wesley, Few men have 
 ever lived who have caused more conversation, or excited 
 more censure or applause : but now the subject is re- 
 moved, and the mist of prejudice and the glare of partiality 
 are gradually dying away. Whatever irregularities or ec- 
 centricities might at one time have marked the conduct or 
 the writings of Mr. Wesley, yet it must be allowed that he 
 possessed a strong understanding, acute reasoning powers^ 
 a clear and simple st\le, a ready elocution, lively conversa- 
 tion, combined with great activity of mind and remarkable 
 strength of constitution. In love with a college life, it is 
 
VUl MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 no wonder that he attracted the notice and encouraged the 
 literaiy pursuits of young Hervey : he frequently read and 
 conversed with him out of the customary hours of lecture ; 
 he prescribed to him a plan of very early rising and of strict 
 discipline,, which would not agree with evei'y constitution. 
 
 Without defending every sentiment which Mr. Wesley 
 adopted, or vindicating every measure which he pursued, 
 yet it must be allowed that few men ever collected together 
 more knowledge or displayed more zeal. 
 
 With such a character it is no wonder that Mr. Hervey 
 was much pleased ) whose conversation was calculated to 
 improve and enlarge his mind^ whose time was carefully 
 employed ; whose temperance was exact, if not severe j 
 and whose piety was uniform and exemplary. — A member 
 of the college at that time has informed me, that often when 
 he retired from the common room at four o'clock in the 
 morning, Mr. Wesley and Mr. Hervey were up and studying 
 together. To a young mind the contrast must have been 
 great between the smoky atmosphere of a common room, 
 and the quiet apartments of a tutor, which were marked by 
 devotion, application, temperance, and health. 
 
 At college Mr. Hervey became particularly attached to 
 Kiel's Anatomy, to Durham's Astro and Physico Theology, 
 and to the Spectacle de la Nature. He acknowledged much 
 obligation in the improvement of his style to Spence's 
 Essay on Pope's Odys«ey. By these means he laid that 
 foundation for a general knowledge in the various and 
 wonderful works of nature, which he afterwards was so 
 successful to apply in displaying the greatness of the 
 Author of nature, and in illustrating the wisdom of his 
 sacred Word. 
 
 About this time he attempted to learn the Hebrew lan- 
 guage, without any other help than the Westminster Gram- 
 mar 5 but the unexpected difficulties discouraged him ; and, 
 for a time, he relinquished the attempt rather than the 
 intention. Afterwards he became a proficient in that an- 
 
REV. JAMES HERVEY. l3t 
 
 cient, if not most ancient, language ; that he might thus be 
 better enabled to teach others, and to draw purer water 
 from the wells of salvation. 
 
 The period of ordination, when a new and important 
 character is assumed, was a season of much thought and 
 reflection, of prayer and solemn resolutions, to fulfil the 
 interesting obligations which he was entering into. Mr. 
 Hervey was ordained the 1 9th of September, 1/36, by Dr. 
 Potter, then bishop of Oxford j when he voluntarily re- 
 linquished an exhibition of 201. per ann. which he received 
 from college, thinking that it would be unjust to detain that 
 necessary help to defray the academical expenses, which 
 another might stand in greater need of. 
 
 At the first he assisted his father, but afterwards served 
 the curacy of Dummer, in the county of Hampshire, in which 
 he continued about twelve months. He then paid a visit to 
 a college acquaintance, Paul Orchard, Esq. of Stoke Abbey, 
 in Devonshire, a gentleman of eminent worth and piety j 
 to whose son he stood godfather, and for whose particular 
 imitation he has drawn the character of his excellent parent. 
 While on a visit with Mr. Orchard, he was induced, for the 
 enjoyment of such society, at the request of the parishioners, 
 who approved his preaching, and at the appointment of the 
 aged and infirm rector, to undertake the curacy of Bidde- 
 ford, in that county, at the yearly salary of 40/. As a 
 mark of their afiection and esteem, the congregation of 
 themselves added 20/. per annum. Yet this, with some 
 small allowance from home, was often inadequate to the 
 various claims on his benevolence j and although he was 
 exceedingly temperate and frugal in all his expenses, yet he 
 was often obliged to straiten himself, to supply the more 
 pressing wants of others. 
 
 In this pleasing retreat he faithfully and cheerfully dis- 
 charged his parochial duties, preaching two or three times 
 on a Sunday, and on the Wednesday and Friday expounding 
 the Epistle and Gospel of that week : the remainder of his 
 
MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 time Was spent in enriching his mind, in improving his 
 heart, and in partaking the pleasure of Christian and social 
 conversation, which Mr. Hervey vi^as well calculated to im- 
 prove and to enjoy. 
 
 His character was now forming j and the impulse of in- 
 dignant zeal was sometimes suppressed by the timidity or 
 modesty of youth, when he was offended, if not directly 
 insulted, by profane or obscene conversation in his pre- 
 sence. He entertained a most tender sense of the interest 
 of religion, and a deep concern for men's spiritual welfare j 
 therefore he was grieved and dejected whenever the hours 
 of social intercourse were polluted by obscene mirth, or 
 degraded by sarcastic ridicule on religion. When a grand 
 characteristic and excellency of man is abused to insult the 
 modest ear, and to confuse the timid and unsuspicious 
 female, such conduct can never be too severely condemned 5 
 but it demands the severest possible reprehension when 
 proceeding from characters whose age, learning, and pro- 
 fession shoyld be a protection to modesty, and might rea- 
 sonably excite hopes of improvement. A wise man will 
 prefer the completest solitude before society so degraded j 
 a society from which he is glad to escape, although amidst 
 the sneers of the scoffers j and he reproaches himself for 
 more than time lost; he sinks in his own esteem. Mr. 
 Hervey's character was soon so established for piety, and 
 his conduct animated with such becoming zeal, that he was 
 not again likely to be offended by meeting with such con- 
 versation. 
 
 Mr. Hervey cultivated friendship as the means of pro- 
 moting religion. One of his choicest friends at Biddeford 
 was Miss Jane Burnard, a pious and distinguished Chris- 
 tian, who died, in the flower of her age, of a lingering 
 consumption. Mr. H. paid the last respect to her amiable 
 and excellent character, by preaching her funeral sermon. 
 
 Whilst residing at this place he_ contracted the too se- 
 ducing habit of sitting up late to pursue his beloved 
 
REV. JAMES HERVEY. Xl 
 
 Studies. Late hours at night must intrude on the morning j 
 and the bright and fresh hours of the opening day are 
 more favourable to health of body, and to the exertions of 
 mind. Knowledge may be purchased at too high a price ; 
 and, surely, to endanger health, and to undermine a tender 
 constitution, is to forget the great purpose of life, while 
 indulging in a mental intemperance. This habit was after- 
 wards corrected. 
 
 On the death of his rector, in 1 742, he left the curacy of 
 Biddeford 3 and, on a final separation from such a pastor, 
 it is but natural to expect that the regret should be mutual, 
 particularly when he delivered his farewell sermon. He 
 was so much approved by the congregation, that they not 
 only requested the rector to permit him to continue in 
 the curacy, but they offered to pay the whole of his salary 
 by voluntary contribution. 
 
 In this place he formed the plan of his Meditations.* 
 From Biddeford he removed to Weston Favell, where he 
 ofl&ciated as his father's curate. 
 
 In the year 1 746 he attracted much general attention by 
 the publication of his Meditations among the Tombs, Re- 
 flections on a Flower-Garden, and a Descant on Creation. 
 The year following produced the second volume, containing 
 Contemplations on the Night, and the Starry Heavens, and 
 a Winter-Piece. A particular account can scarce be ne- 
 cessary of a work so generally read and admired. Mr. 
 Hervey displays great and general knowledge, which he 
 always usefully applies to enlarge the mind, to elevate the 
 heart, and to promote the purest morality and devotion. 
 In many of his writings he combines the descriptive powers 
 of Thomson with the sublime reflections and moral energies 
 of Young. 
 
 About the year 1750 he occasionally resided in London, 
 
 * The scene of them is laid at Kilkharaptoii, in Cornwall ; and in a 
 ride to that place he first entertained the idea of such a work. 
 
Xii MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 at his brother's, to try the benefit of change of air, to be 
 relieved from too sedentary a life, and to enjoy the converse 
 of religious friends. Here he was attacked by a violent 
 fever, and once escaped the calamity of fire, which destroyed 
 the adjoining house. 
 
 On the death of his aged father, in May, 1752, he 
 succeeded him at length in the two family livings of 
 Weston Favell and CoUingtree, about five miles distance 
 from one another, which did not produce above 160/. per 
 annum together. He had some scruples at the first on 
 accepting the latter living ; and it was some time before he 
 took it : but every scruple of the most upright mind may 
 not be reasonably formed, and ought not to be pertinaciously 
 adhered to. The livings were near each other j and, if Mr. 
 Hervey was compelled to keep a curate, which was more 
 than probable, from his increasing infirmities and the pre- 
 carious state of his health, one living would not have sup- 
 plied his necessary expenses, on the most frugal plan. On 
 this account he complied with the repeated wishes of his 
 mother and friends ; took his degree of Master of Arts at 
 Cambridge, having been admitted of Clare Hall, and was 
 presented with the living of CoUingtree. An apology to 
 the bishop, on institution to the second living, seems to 
 have been needless, only for doing what the law of the 
 realm allows, and the inadequate provision of the church 
 in general renders absolutely necessary. Mr. Hervey had 
 no reason afterwards to blame himself for this line of con- 
 duct, but saw sufficient reason to approve the step which 
 he had consented to take. 
 
 He next published his Remarks on Lord Bolingbroke's 
 Letters on the Study and Use of History, so far as they 
 relate to the History of the Old Testament, and especially 
 to the Case of Noah denouncing a Curse upon Canaan, in 
 a Letter to a Lady of Quality. 
 
 In 1753 he preached the sermon at the archdeacon's 
 visitation at Northampton j and published it, for the benefit 
 
BEV. JAMES HERVEY. XUl 
 
 of a poor afflicted child^ under the title of. The Cross of 
 Christ the Christian's Glory. 
 
 In the same year he wrote a recommendatory Epistle to 
 Burnham's Pious Memorials, or the Power of Religion on 
 the Mind in Sickness and Death, exemplified in the expe- 
 rience of many eminent persons at those important seasons. 
 
 But his most favourite work, and on which he bestowed 
 uncommon pains and attention, were the Dialogues, and 
 the Letters of Theron and Aspasio, on most of the leading 
 subjects of the Gospel, but particularly on the mode of 
 salvation by the imputation of the righteousness of the 
 Saviour. This subject Mr. Hervey labours to prove by 
 argument, to support by authority, and to illustrate by 
 various figures and modes. He displays great ingenuity, 
 learning, and industry, much critical acumen, and a great 
 extent of reading : and yet many wise and good men have 
 doubted whether this is the exact method of salvation 
 which the Gospel holds forth, without either attempting to 
 diminish from the glory of the Saviour, or to ascribe any 
 merit to the works of man, 
 
 Mr. Hervey abundantly succeeded in his plan of writing 
 a popular book ; on which account it abounds with varied 
 descriptions. He ranges through the works of nature and 
 the pages of liistory, to collect useful information, to charm 
 the juvenile reader, to lead him insensibly to high and 
 heavenly things. His language, like his imagination, was 
 rich and luxuriant 3 like a well cultivated garden in sum- 
 mer. It was profuse in flowers and fragrance. 
 
 This work met with great and deser^-ed applause, and 
 some opposition. Three editions were sold in the first 
 year. It was attacked by Mr. John ^^^esley, his former 
 tutor ; by Mr. Robert Sandeman ; and by Mr. Bellamy, of 
 New England : but it was defended by Mr. Cudworth and 
 Mr. David Wilson. A rash and injudicious defence is worse 
 than a violent attack 5 but the warmth of controversy soon 
 cools, the attentiou of the public is engaged 'with other 
 
XIV MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 subjects, and a debate, once highly interesting, is soon 
 forgotten. 
 
 The next year he enlarged on the commendation he had 
 passed on Marshall's Gospel Mystery of Sanctification, 
 which was published as a Preface to it. 
 . The same year he also published a new edition of his 
 favourite author, Jenks's Meditations, with a Preface, in 
 which he strongly recommends them. 
 
 This year he printed his three Sermons on the General 
 Fast. As a preacher, Mr. Hervey was eloquent, energetic, 
 and animated : his manner was striking, but never vulgar 
 and low. He seemed to forget his feeble frame and his 
 delicate constitution, while more immediately engaged in 
 his Master's service, and labouring for the best interests of 
 men. 
 
 Of Mr. Hervey's piety, devotion, zeal, charity, and 
 knowledge, there will be but one opinion 5 yet it will not 
 thence follow that every sentiment which he entertained 
 was equally true and important. A distinction must always 
 be made between the integrity of a man's life and the 
 truth of his opinions : here we are more immediately and 
 pleasingly concerned with the former. 
 
 His more particular friends were some of the first religious 
 characters of the time j in which class are to be reckoned 
 Lady Frances Shirley, the Rev. George Whitefield, Rev. 
 William Romaine, Rev. Philip Doddridge, Rev. J , Ryland, 
 and Dr. Stonhouse, his physician, who afterwards entered 
 into holy orders, by his particular advice. 
 
 True piety is of no party 5 it can embrace and honour 
 whatever excellencies it discovers in others. On this prin- 
 ciple, Mr. Hervey entertained a high opinion, and cultivated 
 a cordial friendship with several who were not members of 
 the national established church : if they did but acknowledge 
 the divine Saviour, and walk in holiness of life, he was ever 
 ready to honour them with his esteem, and to allow them 
 the right hand of fellowship, Mr. Hervey himself was 
 
REV, JAMES HERVEY. XV 
 
 perfectly regular in his conduct as a member of the esta- 
 blishment. 
 
 He shone as a correspondent and as a companion. His 
 letters and his conversation were remarkable for ease and 
 elegance, for extent of knowledge and fervour of devotion. 
 He always wished to be useful, and ever conducted himself 
 as standing in the Divine presence, and employed in his 
 Master's service. It is almost needless to say, that his 
 converse was free from any thing which could tend to de- 
 preciate the character of another : he was as ready to con- 
 ceal their faults, as to publish their excellencies. 
 
 His life was a practical comment on his writings : an 
 example of what a Christian ought to be ; marked by the 
 sincerest devotion to God, the most sacred regard to his 
 holy word, and a conscientious attention to all his various 
 duties as a pastor, a son, a brother, and a friend. 
 
 With strong natural powers, and much acquired learning, 
 he was yet modest, humble, and diffident 5 lowly in his 
 own eyes, and making much of those who feared the Lord. 
 He was particularly solicitous for the spiritual improvement 
 of the patients in the Northampton infirmary, and fre- 
 quently visited them, when his declining health would per- 
 mit him. 
 
 In the cause of truth he was firm and zealous. He was 
 justly offended at the treatment which his writings received, 
 particularly from the critical reviewers ; perhaps languor 
 and pain might contribute their share, and render him more 
 quickly irritable ; and he warmly expressed the indignation 
 which he felt. He prepared to attack them with sarcasm 
 and ridicule ; but most probably he was handling weapons 
 in which he could not excel, and might only have exposed 
 himself and his writings to his unknown antagonists, who 
 might have been more than equal to him in such a contest. 
 Happily, the calm of reflection interposed, the earnest en- 
 treaties of his friends prevailed^ and the design was re- 
 linquished. 
 
XVI MEMOIRS OF THE - 
 
 Another work, of a different kind, in which he was en- 
 gaged, was rebuilding the parsonage at Weston, of a neat 
 and proper size, suitable to the living. The person he 
 employed disappointed, if he did not deceive hira j and it 
 seemed as if he must have recourse to the disagreeable 
 expedient of a law-suit, to settle the affair. But one builds, 
 and another inhabits : before Mr. Hervey occupied his new 
 house, he was removed to his house not made with hands. 
 The rebuilding the parsonage cost him four hundred pounds, 
 besides the old materials. This sum he was enabled to 
 supply by letting out some of his land for the cultivation of 
 woad, which always produces an extraordinary rent for a 
 time. 
 
 Mr. Hervey was both exceedingly liberal and judicious 
 in the distribution of relief to the poor, the aged, and the 
 sick J giving them clothes and proper food, rather than 
 money j yet this was never withheld when the necessity of 
 the case required it ; as to a prudent housekeeper, reduced 
 by sickness or misfortune, to whom he would give several 
 guineas at a time. ■■' * 
 
 He often would procure the advice of physicians, and 
 medicine from apothecaries, for the benefit of the sick 
 poor : this was a favourite method with him of doing good j 
 and often his kind attention to the sickness of the body 
 prepared the way to relieve the greater maladies of the 
 soul. He also gave away great numbers of small religious 
 books, but particularly Bibles. 
 
 Mr. Hervey was extremely temperate and frugal in his 
 diet ; plain in his dress, if not inattentive to his person. A 
 suitable appearance has its use. The young, the thought- 
 less, and the stranger, may not know the real worth of the 
 man J or reflect that he may easily become inattentive td 
 dress, while the mind is intensely engaged in the pursuit of 
 knowledge or the exercises of devotion, or while the body 
 is languishing under infirmity and sickness. 
 
 Mr. Hervey for many years had struggled With mticH 
 
REV. JAMES HEBVEY. XVU 
 
 weakness and languor ; was frequently confined by severe 
 fits of sickness : but, in the latter end of the year 1758, he 
 grew worse. On the first Sunday in December, after family 
 prayer in the evening, he was seized so extremely ill, that 
 his dissolution was apprehended to be very near : with 
 great difficulty he was got up stairs, and after that never 
 left his room. The cramp returned with violence. He was 
 grievously afflicted with a hectic cough in the night, that 
 obliged him to rise very early. He was sensible of his 
 danger, yet was willing to use proper means to mitigate the 
 pain, and to prolong life. On the 1 5th of December, he 
 complained of a pain in his side, for which, at his own 
 desire, he was blooded 3 but the surgeon, perceiving his 
 weakness and danger, took but a small quantity of blood. 
 Mr. Maddock, his curate, was much with him -, to whom he 
 pathetically spoke of his assurance of faith, and of the great 
 love of God in Christ. ^' How much," says he, " has Christ 
 done for me, and how little have I done for so loving a 
 Saviour ! If I preached even once a week, it was at last a 
 burden to me. I have not vn sited the people of my parish 
 as I ought to have done, and thus have preached from 
 house to house. I have not taken every opportunity of 
 speaking for Christ." 
 
 These expressions were accompanied with tears. '^ But," 
 says he, '^ do not think that I am afraid to die ; I assure 
 you I am not. I know what my Saviour hath done for me, 
 and I want to be gone. But I wonder and lament to think 
 of the love of Christ in doing so much for me, and how 
 little I have done for him." And in another conversation, 
 calmly speaking of his approaching dissolution, and our 
 ignorance of the sacred word, he observed^ '^ How many 
 precious texts are there, big with the richest truths of 
 Christ, which we cannot comprehend, of which we know 
 nothing} and of those we do know, how few do we re- 
 member ! A good textuary is a good divine : that is the 
 armour ; the word of God is the sword. They are the 
 
 b 
 
XVlll MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 weapons I must use when that subtle spirit, the arch-ad- 
 versary of mankind, comes to tempt and sift me in my last 
 conflict. Surely I had need be well provided with these 
 weapons : I had need have my quiver full of them, to answer 
 Satan with texts out of the word of God when he assaults 
 me." 
 
 On the 1 9th, the pains of his body abated, but he grew 
 drowsy and lethargic : and in the night his dissolution was 
 expected. 
 
 The next day he was visited by his worthy friend Dr. 
 Stonhouse, who declared his opinion that Mr. Hervey could 
 not survive above two or three days. And speaking of the 
 consolations which a good man enjoys in the prospect of 
 death, Mr. Hervey replied, " T^e, doctor, true : the only 
 valuable treasures are in heaven. What would it avail me 
 now to be archbishop of Canterbury ? Disease would show 
 no respect to my mitre. That prelate (Dr. Seeker) is not 
 only very great, but I am told he has religion really at 
 heart : yet it is godliness, and not grandeur, that will avail 
 him hereafter. The Gospel is oflfered to me, a poor country 
 parson, the same as to his grace. Christ makes no dif- 
 ference between us. Oh ! why then do ministers thus 
 neglect the charge of so kind a Saviour, fawn upon the 
 great, and hunt after worldly preferments with so much 
 eagerness, to the disgrace of our order. These, these are 
 the things, doctor, and not our poverty or obscurity, which 
 render the clergy so justly contemptible to the worldlings. 
 No wonder the service of our church, grieved I am to say 
 it, is become such a formal, lifeless thing, since it is, alas ! 
 too generally executed by persons dead to godliness in all 
 their conversation ; whose indiiference to religion, and 
 worldly-minded behaviour, proclaims the little regard they 
 pay to the doctrines of the Lord who bought them." 
 
 ^Vhen the doctor was going away, Mr. Hervey reminded 
 him of a dangerous fall from his horse which he had met 
 with not long before, by which he had been much bruised ; 
 
REV. JAMES HERVEY. XIX 
 
 and observing that he looked pale, he hoped he would think 
 on such narrow escapes, so often fatal to others, as a 
 warning to him from God, and remember them as such } 
 adding, '^ How careful ought we to be to improve these 
 years which remain, at a time of life when but few can 
 remain to us !" At that time both were turned of forty. 
 
 The day before his death, Mr. Hervey attempting to walk 
 a few steps in his room, his strength failing him, he must 
 have fallen, if not supported ; a fainting fit ensued, and it 
 was some time before he recovered. When he came to 
 himself, his brother William, who was come from London 
 to see him, said, '" We were afraid you were gone." He 
 answered, '' I wish I had." 
 
 On the 25 th, his curate paying him his morning visit, 
 Mr. Hervey, sitting in an easy chair, for he was unable to 
 lie in bed, said, '' Sir, I cannot talk with you to-day." He 
 complained much of a great inward conflict which he had j 
 and, laying his hand on his breast, said, " Oh ! you know 
 iH)t how great a conflict I have." During this time his 
 eyes were almost constantly elevated to heaven, and his 
 hands clasped in prayer 5 he frequently said, " When this 
 great conflict is over, then" — but added no more. 
 
 Dr. Stonhouse came to him about three hours before he 
 expired 3 to whom he strongly urged the importance of his 
 everlasting concerns, as here is no abiding place j and en- 
 treated him not to be overcharged with the cares of this 
 life } but, in the multiplicity of his business, to attend to 
 the one thing needful : 
 
 " Which done, the poorest can no wants endure ; 
 And which not done, the richest must be poor.** 
 
 The doctor observing the difficulty with which he spoke, 
 from the phlegm which oppressed him, and finding by his 
 languid pulse that his dissolution was near, desired that he 
 would spare himself. ''No, doctor, no," was his reply; 
 " you tell me that I have but a few moments to live : oh ! 
 
 b2 
 
JKX MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 let me spend them in adoring our great Redeemer.'* He 
 then said, "Though my heart and my flesh fail me, yet 
 God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever." 
 He expatiated, also, on those words, ^11 thing's are yours, 
 life and death, for ye are Christ's. " Here," says he, *' is 
 the treasure of a Christian. Death is reckoned among this 
 inventory, and a noble treasure it is. How thankful am I 
 for death, as it is the passage through which I pass to the 
 Lord and Giver of eternal life 5 and as it frees me from all 
 this misery you now see me endure, and which I am willing 
 to endure, as long as God thinks lit 3 for I know he will, 
 m his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These 
 light afflictions are but for a moment 3 and then comes an 
 eternal weight of glory. Oh ! welcome, welcome. Death. 
 Thou mayst well be reckoned among the treasures of the 
 Christian. To live is Christ, but to die is gain.'' 
 
 When the doctor was taking his final leave, Mr. Hervey 
 expressed great gratitude for his visits, though medicine 
 had been unable to relieve him. He then paused a little, 
 and with great composure, although the pangs of death 
 were upon him, said. Lord, now lettest thou thy servant 
 depart in peace, according to thy most holy and comfortable 
 word, for mine eyes have seen thy precious salvation. 
 " Here, doctor, is my eordial : what are all the cordials 
 given to support the dying, in comparison of that which 
 arises from the promises of salvation by Christ ? This, this 
 supports me." About three o'clock, he said, " The great 
 conflict is over : now all is done." After which, he scarce 
 spoke any words intelligibly, except, now and then, pre- 
 cious salvation. During the last hour he said nothing, but 
 leaned his head against the side of an easy chair -, and, 
 without the least struggle, expired between four and five 
 o'clock in the afternoon, on Christmas-day, 1758, in the 
 forty-fifth year of his age : on that day when he had so 
 often displayed the mercy and dignity of his Redeemer. 
 
 He was interred three days afterwards, under the middle 
 
REV. JAMES HERVEY. XXI 
 
 of the communion-table, in the chancel of Weston Favell. 
 His funeral was exceedingly plain, according to his parti- 
 cular request, but numerously attended by his pious and 
 aflfectionate relations ; by a grateful and sorrowful congre- 
 gation, deeply lamenting the loss they had sustained. This 
 was the only monument which he desired ; and, indeed, for 
 many years, there was no memorial of the place of his 
 sepulture, until his excellent and only surviving sister 
 caused the following to be inscribed on the place where 
 his body was deposited ; 
 
 Here lie the Remains 
 
 of the Rev. James Hervey, A.M. 
 
 (late Rector of this Parish) 
 
 That very pious Man, 
 And much-admired Author, \ 
 
 Who died Dec. 25th, 1758, 
 In the 45th Year of his Age. 
 
 Reader, expect no more to make him known. 
 
 Vain the fond elegy and figured stone : 
 
 A name more lasting shall his writings give ; '^ 
 
 There view display'd his heavenly soul, and live. 
 
 The mind finds a melancholy but pleasing satisfaction in 
 contemplating the latter end of the righteous : the death- 
 bed of the good man is a privileged spot ; we dwell with 
 attention on his last moments, and are pleased with every 
 new proof of the sincerity of his devotion and the con- 
 fidence of his hopes. 
 
 As a clergyman, Mr, Hervey performed all the duties of 
 his station in the best and strictest manner. Not content 
 with the public duty on a Sunday, he established a lecture 
 on Wednesday evening, except during hay-time and har- 
 vest. The expense of lighting the cliurch during the winter 
 months he paid out of his own pocket, that he might not 
 put the parish to any expense. But, for some time before 
 his death, he was unable to make the usual change with 
 
XXll MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 his cufate at Collingtree^ to visit his parishioners from 
 house to house j or to continue his weekly lecture. Per- 
 haps this might give him too much concern y but it is a 
 diflScult task, with the desire of being useful, quietly to 
 submit to be laid aside. 
 
 He preached on Sundays to numerous and very attentive 
 congregations ; many of whom came from very distant parts. 
 His voice was clear and harmonious, though not strong j 
 and he was a very excellent reader, as well as preacher. 
 He always preached without notes, or those very short 
 ones, except on some particular occasions. When his 
 strength would permit him, he generally preached about 
 an hour ; and his discourses were judicious, clear, and free 
 from any vain repetitions. In his public addresses, he 
 studied simplicity and plainness : he did not wish to cap- 
 tivate by the elegance of his language, or the display of the 
 variety and extent of his learning j but to inform the most 
 ignorant, to interest the careless, and to do good to all. 
 ^ In catechising the children, he was affectionate, familiar, 
 and engaging ; leading them, by short and pertinent ques- 
 tions, to think for themselves, and to understand what 
 they said Observing some of his parishioners indolent on 
 a Sunday morning, or engaged in secular concerns, he 
 thus catechised the children on the fourth commandment : 
 *'Do they keep holy the Sabbath-day who lie in bed till 
 eight or nine o'clock in the morning, instead of rising to 
 say their prayers, and read the Bible?" ''No, sir."—* 
 " Do those keep the Sabbath who fodder their cattle when 
 other people are going to church?" "No, sir." — "Does 
 God Almighty bless such people who go to alehouses, and 
 do not mind the instruction of their minister ?" " No, sir." 
 — "Don't those who love God read the Bible in their 
 families, particularly on Sunday evenings, and have every 
 day family prayers, morning and evening, in their houses ?" 
 " Yes, sir." In this easy and simple manner did he lead 
 the young mind^ and guard them against the conduct of 
 
REV. JAMES HERVEY. XXIU 
 
 parents or masters who ought to have set them a better 
 example. 
 
 Mr. Hervey's deep humility was a constant protection to 
 him : he was always watchful over himself, and was never 
 known to be in a passion. ^Vhen he was unjustly aspersed, 
 he would say, '' Our enemies are sometimes our best friends, 
 and tell us truths ; and then we should amend our faults, 
 and be thankful for such information : and if what they 
 say be not true, and only spoken through malice, then 
 such persons are to be considered as diseased in mind, and 
 we should pray for them. They are to be pitied; and 
 1 might as justly be angry with a man who is diseased in 
 body." 
 
 His gratitude to God and man was very great and uni- 
 form : the least acts of kindness called forth the most lively 
 expressions of thankfulness from him. 
 
 Although he had collected much knowledge, and was 
 able to shine with scholars, yet he often submitted his 
 writings to be corrected by those who were far inferior to 
 himself; and he was never better pleased than when 
 several alterations were made. His industry and applica- 
 tion will appear the more extraordinary, when it is con- 
 sidered, that in the latter years of his short life he was 
 seldom free from languor and pain ; his constitution being 
 very delicate, and suffering from every cold and exertion. 
 In these states he exhibited the useful example of meekness 
 and resignation, patiently submitting himself to the Divine 
 disposal. 
 
 His numerous wTitings, and the success which they met 
 with, formed a source of charity which was entirely appro- 
 priated to the poor and needy 3 and yet this was not equal 
 to the extent of his benevolence. He was literally his own 
 executor j and, at the last, desired, if there was any money 
 remaining, it might be distributed in warm clothing to the 
 poor at that inclement season. 
 
 Mr. Hervey was never married, although he highly 
 
XXIV MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 approved of that estate j and often said, that he should 
 certainly have married, but from his continued ill health 
 and infirmity. *- 
 
 He was fond of the exercise of riding on horseback, as 
 favourable to meditation and health, which he partook when 
 the weather and his strength would permit him. 
 
 With every part of learning, either ornamental or useful^ 
 he was well acquainted. He made no small proficiency in 
 Hebrew, Greek, and Latin 3 and, indeed, composed with 
 ease in the last. But all his attainments were devoted to 
 the service of religion 3 and he regarded no book, and no 
 subject, but as it might advance the great object which he 
 had constantly in view. 
 
 With his genius and variety of powers, he might easily 
 have shone as a poet 3 but he had no ambition of this 
 kind : some few poems, which he wrote when young, he 
 was careful to destroy. Most of his works, particularly 
 the Meditations and the Dialogues, would easily assume a 
 poetical form. The former of them have been turned into 
 blank verse, by Mr. Newcomb, of Hackney, after the man- 
 ner of Young's Night Thoughts. Mr. Hervey saw part of 
 this versification, and it met with his warmest appro- 
 bation. 
 
 In the recommending of books, and the characters which 
 Mr. Hervey gave of them, you may sometimes discover^ 
 that the benevolence of his temper warped his critical 
 judgment; and, being well pleased himself, he has, at 
 times, been rather profuse in his praises. 
 
 His family-v/orship was regular and exemplary : he made 
 the servants read a portion of the Scriptures, on which he 
 occasionally made short, pertinent, and useful remarks, 
 which he expected they should recollect when he question- 
 ed them again : this was followed by earnest and humble 
 prayer. In the character of Camillus he has drawn the 
 picture of his own family-worship ; and had Mr. Hervey 
 been a father, there can be no doubt but he would have 
 
REV. JAMES HERVEY. XXV 
 
 proved such an exemplary parent as he has described Ca- 
 in illus to be. 
 
 Some observations may naturally be expected concerning 
 his numerous posthumous letters, and especially the eleven 
 to Mr. John Wesley, which have caused so much conversa- 
 tion. In the eager desire to publish all the literary remains 
 of a great or good man, there is often displayed more warm 
 and indiscreet friendship than cool and accurate judgment, 
 and a strict regard to what he himself would have done. 
 The easy confidence of free and familiar intercourse is too 
 often violated ; and secrets are betrayed, or unfavourable 
 conjectures indulged, which can gratify no useful purpose. 
 No man is equally wise j and although exemplary in his 
 conduct, he does not wish to appear before the public in 
 every little note which he has written, or in every opinion 
 which he may advance. As a confidential conversation is 
 not to be divulged, so the epistolary intercourse of friends 
 in general should be equally reserved. What is not origi- 
 nally intended for the public, is seldom fit to appear before 
 them. This was clearly Mr. Hervey's own opinion and 
 conduct. These remarks may be said scarcely to apply to 
 the eleven letters to Mr. Wesley, which were certainly writ- 
 ten by Mr. Hervey, and intended for the press. Had his 
 life been spared, it is well known that he intended to have 
 softened the asperity of some expressions 3 and, I believe, 
 there is not a doubt but that some friends, more zealous 
 than judicious, added to this acrimony, and were glad to 
 attack their opponent with severity, under the shelter of 
 so exemplary a man, and so distinguished a writer : on this 
 account I conceive that those letters must be read with 
 some grain of allowance ; and if they contain his sentiments, 
 they do not altogether breathe his spirit. Some indulgence 
 must be made for a suffering and languid mind, irritated by 
 controversy 5 and some censure may deservedly be passed 
 on the confidence of friendship abused^ and the sanction of 
 
XXVI MEMOIRS OF THE REV. J. HERVEY. 
 
 his extensive reputation given to the severity which was 
 not his own. 
 
 Few characters, in ancient or modern times, have com- 
 bined more excellencies^ or displayed more virtues, than 
 Mr. J. Hervey j whether we consider his sincerity as a 
 friend, his zeal as a divine, his knowledge as a scholar, his 
 mildness and patience, his charity and love, as a man and 
 a Cliristian, 
 
VERSES TO MR. HERVEY, 
 
 ON HIS 
 
 MEDITATIONS. 
 
 In these loved scenes, what rapt'rous graces shine. 
 Live in each leaf, and breathe in every line ! 
 What sacred beauties beam throughout the whole. 
 To charm the sense, and steal upon the soul ! 
 In classic elegance, and thoughts — his own, 
 We see our faults as in a mirror shown : 
 Each tinith, in glaring characters express'd, 
 All own the twin resemblance in their breast : 
 His easy periods, and persuasive page. 
 At once amend, and entertain the age : 
 Nature's wide fields all open to his view. 
 He charms the mind with something ever new : 
 On fancy's pinions, his advent'rous-soul 
 Wantons unbounded, and pervades the whole : 
 From death's dark caverns in the earth below. 
 To spheres where planets roll, or comets glow. 
 
 See him explore, with more than human eyes, 
 The dreary sepulchre, where Granville lies : 
 Converse with stones, or monumental brass. 
 The rude inscriptions, — or the painted glass : 
 To gloomy vaults descend with awful tread. 
 And view the silent mansions of the dead. 
 
 To gayer scenes he next adapts his lines, 
 Where lavish nature in embroid'ry shines : 
 
XXVIU VERSES TO MB. HERVEY, 
 
 The jasmine groves, the woodbine's fragrant bovv'rs. 
 With all the painted family of flow'rs : 
 There, Sacharissa ! in each fleeting grace. 
 Read all the transient honours of thy face. 
 
 With equal dignity now see him rise 
 To paint the sable horrors of the skies ; 
 When all the wide horizon lies in shade. 
 And midnight phantoms sweep along the glade : 
 All nature hush'd — a solemn silence reigns. 
 And scarce a breeze disturbs the sleeping plains. 
 
 Last, yet not less, in majesty of phrase. 
 He draws the full-orb'd moon's expansive blaze ; 
 The waving meteors trembling from on high. 
 With all the mute artill'ry of the sky : 
 Systems on systems, which in order roll. 
 And dart their lambent beams from pole to pole. 
 
 Hail, mighty genius ! whose excursive soul 
 No bounds confine, no limits can control : 
 Whose eye expatiates, and whose mind can rove, p 
 
 Through earth, through aether, and the realms above :,, 
 From things inanimate direct the rod,* 
 In just gradation, to ascend to God, 
 Taught by thy lines, see hoary age grows wise, 
 And all the rebel in his bosom dies : 
 E'en thoughtless youth, in luxury of blood, 
 Fly the infectious world, and dare — be good. 
 Thy sacred truths shall reach th' impervious heart ; 
 Discord shall cease, disease forget to smart ; 
 E'en malice love, and calumny commend ; 
 Pride beg an alms, and av'rice turn a friend. 
 
 Centred in Christ, who fires the soul within. 
 The flesh shall know no pain, the soul no sin : 
 E'en in the terrors of expiring breath. 
 We bless the friendly stroke, and live — in death. 
 
 Oxford, April 22>, 1748. 
 
 • An allusion to the custom of showing curious objects, and particularising 
 their respective delicacies, by the pointing of a rod. 
 
ON HIS MEDITATIONS. XXIX 
 
 BY A PHYSICIAN. 
 
 Celestial mcditant ! whose ardours rise 
 Deep from the tombs, and kindle to the skies; 
 How shall an earthly bard's profaner string 
 Resound the flights of thy seraphic wing ? 
 When great Elijah in the fiery car. 
 Flamed visible to heaven, a living star, 
 A seer remain'd to thunder what he knew. 
 And with his mantle caught his spirit too. 
 
 Wit, fancy, fire, and elegance, have long 
 Been lost in vicious or ignoble song : 
 Sunk from the chastely grand, the pure sublime. 
 They flatter'd wealth and pow'r, or murdei-'d time. 
 'Tis thine their devious lustre to reduce. 
 To prove their noblest pow'r, their genuine use ; 
 From earth-born fumes to clear their tainted flame. 
 And point their flight to heaven — from whence they came. 
 
 O more than bard in prose ! to whom belong. 
 Harmonious style and thought, in rhymeless song j 
 Oft, by thy friendly conduct, let me tread 
 The softly whispering mansions of the dead : 
 Where the grim form, calcining hinds and lords, 
 Grins at each fond distinction pride records. 
 Dumb, with immortal energy they teach ; 
 Lifeless, they threaten ; mould'ring as they preach 
 To each succeeding age, through every clime, 
 The span of life and endless round of time : 
 Hence may propitious melancholy flow, 
 And safety find me in the vaults of wo. 
 
 Wliile every virtue forms thy mental feast, 
 I glow with fair sincerity at least ; 
 I feel {thy face unknown) thy heart refined. 
 And taste, with bliss, the beauties of thy mind j 
 
XXX VERSES TO MR. HRRVEY, 
 
 Collecting clearly, through thy sacred plan, 
 
 Wliat reverence of God I what love to man ! 
 
 — O ! when at last our deathless forms shall rise. 
 
 And flowers and stars desist to moralize ; 
 
 Shall then my soul, by thine inform' d, survey. 
 
 And bear the splendours of essential day ? 
 
 But while my thoughts indulge the glorious scope, 
 
 (My utmost worth beneath my humblest hope) 
 
 Conscience, or some exhorting angel, cries, 
 
 " No lazy wishes reach above the skies. 
 
 Would you indeed the perfect scenes survey. 
 
 And share the triumphs of unbounded day ; 
 
 His love-difFusive life with ardour live. 
 
 And die like this divine contemplative." 
 
 LondoUy July 9, 1748. 
 
 BY A PHYSICIAN. 
 
 To form the taste, and raise the nobler part. 
 To mend the morals, and to warm the heart ; 
 To trace the genial source, we nature call. 
 And prove the God of nature friend of all ; 
 Hervey for this his mental landscape drew. 
 And sketch'd the whole creation out to view. 
 
 Th' enamell'd bloom, and variegated flower. 
 Whose crimson changes with the changing hour ; 
 The humble shrub, whose fragrance scents the morn, 
 With buds disclosing to the early dawn ; 
 The oaks that grace Britannia's mountains' side. 
 And spicy Lebanon* s superior pride ;* 
 
 • Tiie Cedar. 
 
ON HIS MEDITATIONS. XXXi 
 
 All loudly Sov'reign Excellence proclaim. 
 And animated worlds confess the same. 
 
 The azure fields that form th' extended sky, 
 The planetary globes that roll on high, 
 And solar orbs, of proudest blaze, combine, 
 To act subservient to the great design ; 
 Men, angels, seraphs, join the gen'ral voice. 
 And in the Lord of nature all rejoice. 
 
 His, the gray winter's venerable guise. 
 Its shrouded glories, and instructive skies ;* 
 His the snow's plumes that brood the sick'ning blatle ; 
 His the bright pendant that impearls the glade ; 
 The waving forest, or the whisp'ring brake ; - 
 The surging billow, or the sleeping lake : 
 The same, who pours the beauties of the spring. 
 Or mounts the whirlwindPs desolating wing ; 
 The same, who smiles in nature's peaceful form, 
 Frowns in the tempest, and directs the storm. 
 
 'Tis thine, bright teacher, to improve the age ; 
 *Tis thine, whose life 's a comment on thy page ; 
 Thy happy page ! whose periods sweetly flow. 
 Whose figures chaim us, and whose colours glow ; 
 Where artless piety pervades the whole. 
 Refines the genius and exalts the soul : 
 For let the witling argue all he can. 
 It is religion still that makes the man. 
 Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright ; 
 'Tis thiSy that gilds the horrors of our night. 
 When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few ; 
 When friends are faithless, or when foes pursue ; 
 'Tis thiSy that wards the blow, or stills the smart ; 
 Disarms affliction, or repels its dart ; 
 Within the breast bids purest rapture rise ; 
 Bids smiling conscience spread her cloudless skie«. 
 
 When the storm thickens and the thunder rolls. 
 When the earth trembles to th' affrighted poles; 
 
 • Referring to the JVinler-piccc. 
 
XXXii VERSES TO MR. IIERVEY, 
 
 The virtuous mind, nor doubts nor fears assail ; 
 For storms are zephyrs, or a gentler gale. 
 
 And when disease obstructs the lab'ring breath. 
 When the heart sickens, and each pulse is death ; 
 E'en then religion shall sustain the just, 
 Grace their last moments, nor desert their dust. 
 
 Aug. 5, 1748. 
 
 As some new star attracts th' admiring sight. 
 
 His splendours pouring through the fields of light, 
 
 Whole nights, delighted with th' unusual rays. 
 
 On the fair heavenly visitant we gaze : 
 
 So thy famed volumes sweet surprise impart, 
 
 Mark'd by all eyes, and felt in every heart. 
 
 Nature inform'd by thee, new paths has trod. 
 
 And rises, here, a preacher for her God ; 
 
 By fancy's aid mysterious heights she tries. 
 
 And lures us by our senses to the skies. 
 
 To deck thy stt/le collected graces throng, 
 
 Bold as the pencil's tints, yet soft as song. 
 
 In themes, how rich thy vein ! how pure thy choice ! 
 
 Transcripts of truths, own'd clear from Scripture's voice : 
 
 Thy judgment these, and piety attest. 
 
 Transcripts — read only fairer in thy breast. 
 
 There, what thy works would show, we best may see. 
 
 And all they teach in doctrine, lives in thee. 
 
 Oh ! — might they live ! Our prayers their strife engage ; 
 
 But thy fix'd languors yield us sad presage. 
 In vahi skill'd med'cine tries her healing art; 
 Disease, long foe, entrenches at thy heart. 
 Yet on new labours still thy mind is prone. 
 For a world's good too thoughtless of thy ovra : 
 Active, like day's kind orb, life's course you run. 
 Its sphere still glorious, though a setting sun. 
 
ON HIS MEDITATIONS. XXXui 
 
 Redemption opes thee wide her healing plan. 
 Health's onli/ balm, her sovereign'st gift to man. 
 Themes, sweet like these thy ardours, fresh, excite : 
 Warm at the soul, they nerve thy hand to write ; 
 Make thy tried virtues in their charms appear. 
 Patience, raised hope, firm faith, and love sincere ; 
 Like a big constellation, bright they glow. 
 And beam out lovelier by thy night of wo. 
 
 Kno\vn were thy merits to the public long. 
 Ere own'd thus feebly in my humble song -. 
 Damp'd are my fires ; my heart dark cares depress ; 
 A heart, too feeling from its own distress : 
 Proud on thy friendship yet to build my fame, 
 I gain'd my page* a sanction from thy name. 
 Weak these returns (by gratitude though led). 
 Where mine shall in thy favourite leaves be read. 
 Yet, o'er my conscious meanness hope prevails j 
 Love gives me merit, where my genius fails : 
 On its strong base my small desert I raise. 
 Averse to flattery, as unskill'd to praise. 
 
 MOSES BROWNE. 
 
 Mile-End Green, Feb. 23, 1749. 
 
 Whence flow these solemn sounds ? this rapturous strain ? 
 Cherubic notes my w^ondering ear detain I 
 Yet 'tis a mortal's voice : 'tis Hervey sings : 
 Sublime he soars on Contemplation's wings : 
 In every period breathes ecstatic thought. 
 Hervey, 'twas Heaven thy sacred lessons taught : 
 Celestial visions bless thy studious hours. 
 Thy lonely walks, and thy sequester'd bowers. 
 
 What favouring power, dispensing secret aids. 
 Thy cavern'd cell, thy curtain'd couch, pervades ? 
 
 * Sunday Thoughts. 
 
XXXIV VERSES TO MR. HERVET, 
 
 Still hovering near, observant of thy themes, 
 In v^^hispers prompts thee, or inspires thy dreams ? 
 Jesus ! effulgence of paternal light ! 
 Ineffably divine ! supremely bright ! 
 Whose energy according worlds attest. 
 Kindled these ardours in thy glowing breast. 
 We catch thy flame, as we thy page peruse ; 
 And faith in eveiy object Jesus views. 
 We in the blooming breathing garden trace 
 Somewhat — like emanations of his grace : 
 Yet must all sweetness and all beauty yield, 
 Idume's grove, and Sharon's flowery field. 
 Compared with Jesus : meanly, meanly shows 
 Tlie brightest lily, faint the loveliest rose. 
 
 Divine instructor ! lead through midnight glooms. 
 To moralizing stars, and preaching tombs : 
 Through the still void a Saviour's voice shall break, 
 A ray from Jacob's star the darkness streak : 
 To him the fairest scenes their lustre owe ; 
 His covenant brightens the celestial bow; 
 His vast benevolence profusely spreads 
 The yellow harvests, and the verdant meads. 
 
 Thy pupil, Hervev, a Redeemer finds 
 In boundless oceans, and in viewless winds : 
 He reins at will the furious blast, and guides 
 The rending tempests, and the roaring tides. 
 O give, my soul, thy welfare to his trust : 
 Who raised the world can raise thy sleeping dust ! 
 He will, he will, when nature's course is run. 
 Midst falling stars, and an extinguish'd sun : 
 He will with myriads of his saints appear. 
 O may I join them, though the meanest there ! 
 
 Though nearer to the throne my Hervev sings ; 
 Though I at humbler distance strike the strings ; 
 Yet both shall mingle in the same employ. 
 Both drink the fulness of eternal joy. 
 
 JOHN DUICK. 
 
 Clerkenwell-Greeriy Feb. 24, 1749-50. 
 
ON HIS MEDITATIONS. XXXV 
 
 What numbers of our race survey 
 
 Tlie monarch of the golden day, 
 
 Night's ample canopy unfurl' d 
 
 In gloomy grandeur round the world, 
 
 The earth in spring's embroidery dress'd. 
 
 And ocean's ever-working breast ! 
 
 And still no grateful honours rise 
 
 To Him who spread the spacious skies, 
 
 Wlio hung this air-suspended ball. 
 
 And lives, and reigns, and shines, in all ! 
 
 To chase our sensual fogs away. 
 And bright to pour th' eternal ray 
 Of Deity, inscribed around 
 Wide nature to her utmost bound. 
 Is Hervev's task ! and well his skill 
 Celestial can the task fulfil : 
 Ascending from these scenes below, 
 Ardent the JNIakei-'s praise to show. 
 His sacred Contemplations soar. 
 And teach our wonder to adore. 
 
 Now he surveys the realms beneath — 
 Tlie realms of horror and of death ; 
 Now entertains his vernal hours 
 In flowery walks, and blooming bowers ; 
 Now hails the black-brow'd night, that brings 
 ^Ethereal dews upon her wings ; 
 Now marks the planets, as they roll 
 On burning axles round the pole : 
 While tombs, a,nd Jloivers, and shades y and stars. 
 Unveil their sacred characters 
 Of justice, wisdom, power, and love; 
 And lift the soul to realms above. 
 Where dwells the God, in glory crown'd. 
 Who sends his boundless influence round. 
 
 So Jacob, in his blissful Yearns, 
 Array'd in heaven's refulgent beams. 
 
 cli 
 
KXXVl VERSES TO MR. HERVEY, 
 
 Saw from the giound a scale arise, 
 Whose summit mingled with the skies : 
 Angels were pleased to pass the road — 
 The stage to earth, and path to God. 
 
 Hervey, proceed I for nature yields 
 Fresh treasure in her ample fields ; 
 And, in seraphic ecstasy. 
 Still bear us to the throne on high. 
 Ocean's wild wonders next explore. 
 His changing scenes, and secret store ; 
 Or let dire earthquake claim thy toil — 
 Earthquake, that shakes a guilty isle. 
 
 So, if small things may shadow forth, 
 Dear man, thy labours, and thy worth. 
 The bee upon the flowery lawn. 
 Imbibes the lucid drops of dawn. 
 Works them in his mysterious mould. 
 And turns the common dew to gold. 
 
 THOMAS GIBBONS. 
 London J May 26, 1750. 
 
 Delightful author I whom the saints inspire. 
 
 And whispering angels with their aidours fire ! 
 
 From yov,thy like mine, wilt thou accept of praise ? 
 
 Or smile with candour on a stripling's lays ? 
 
 My little laurel (but a shoot at most) 
 
 Has hardly more than one small wreath to boast : 
 
 Such as it js — (ah t might it worthier be !) 
 
 Its scanty foliage all is due to thee. 
 
 Oh '. if, amongst the honours of thy brow, 
 
 ITiis slender circlet may but humbly grow : 
 
 If its faint verdure haply may find place — 
 
 A foil to others — though its own disgrace; 
 
ON HIS MEDITATIONS. XXXVU 
 
 Accept it, Hern EY, from a heart sincere, 
 And, for the giver's sake, — the tribute wear. 
 
 Thy soul-improving works perused, what tongue 
 Can hold from praise, or check the applausive song ? 
 But ah ! from whence shall gratitude obtain 
 Language that may its glowing zeal explain ? 
 How to such wondrous worth adapt a strain ? 
 Described by thee, cold sepulchres can charm ; 
 Storms calm the soul ; and freezing winter warm ! 
 Clear' d from her gloomy shades, we view pale night 
 Surrounded with a blaze of mental light. 
 Lo ! where she comes ! all silent ! pensive ! slow I 
 On her dark robe uunumber'd meteors glowi 
 High on her head a starrj^ crown she wears I 
 Bright in her hand the lamp of reason bears ! 
 Smiling, — behold ! she points the soul to heaven, 
 And bids the weeping sinner be forgiven ! 
 
 But when thy fancy shifts the solemn scene. 
 And ruddy morning gilds the cheerful green ; 
 With sudden joy we view the prospect changed. 
 And blushing sweets in beauteous order ranged : 
 We see the violets, smell the dewy rose, 
 And each perfume that from the woodbine flows ; 
 A boundless perspective there greets our eyes 3 
 Rich vales descend, and verdant mountains rise^ 
 The shepherds' cottages, the rural folds j 
 All, that thy art describes, the eye beholds \ 
 
 Amazing limner ! whence this matchless power ? 
 Thy work's a garden ! — every word a flower ! 
 Thy lovely tints almost the bloom excel. 
 And none but nature's self can paint so well ! 
 
 Hail, holy man ! — henceforth thy work shall stand 
 (Like some fair column by a master-hand. 
 Which, whilst it props, adorns the towering pile) 
 At once to grace and elevate our isle : 
 Though simple, lofty ; though majestic, plain ; 
 Whose bold design the rules of art restrain : 
 
XXXVlll VERSES TO MB. HERVEY, 
 
 In which the nicest eye sees nothing wrong : 
 Though polish'd, just; and elegant, though strong. 
 
 ST. GEORGE MOLESWORTH, 
 
 June 24, 1750. 
 
 In pleasure's lap the muses long have lain. 
 And hung, attentive, on her sireti strain : 
 Still toils the bard beneath some weak design,. 
 And puny thought but halts along the line : 
 Or tuneful Jiothings, stealing on the mind, 
 Melt into air, nor leave a trace behind. 
 While to thy rapturous prose, we feel belong- 
 The strength of wisdom and the voice of song : 
 This lifts the torch of sacred truth on high. 
 And points the captives to their native sky. 
 
 How false the joys which earth or sense inspires. 
 That clog the soul, and damp her purer fires ; 
 Truths, which thy solemn scenes, my friend, declare. 
 Whose glowing colours paint us as we are. 
 Yet, not morosely stern, nor idly gay. 
 Dull melancholy reigns, or trifles sway ; 
 111 would the strains of levity befit. 
 And sullen gloom but sadden all thy wit : 
 Truth, judgment, sense, imagination, join ; 
 And every muse, and every grace, is thine ! 
 Religion, prompting the true end of man. 
 Conspiring genius executes the plan ; 
 Strong to convince, and elegant to charm. 
 Plaintive to melt, or passionate to warm : 
 Raised by degrees, we elevate our aim ; 
 And grow immortal as we catch thy flame : 
 True piety informs our languid hearts. 
 And all the vicious and the vain departs. 
 
ON HIS MEDITATIONS. XXXlX 
 
 "So, when foul spreading fogs creep slowly on. 
 Blot the fair morn, and hide the golden sun ; 
 Ardent he pours the boundless blaze of day. 
 Rides through the sky, and shines the mist away. 
 
 O, had it been the Almighty's gracious will. 
 That I had shared a portion of thy skill ; 
 Had this poor breast received the heavenly beam, 
 Which spreads its lustre through thy various theme ; 
 That speaks deep lessons from the silent tomh. 
 And crouais thy garden with fresh springing bloom ; 
 Or, piercing through creation's ample whole. 
 Now soothes the night, or gilds the starry pole ; 
 Or marks how winter calls her howling train. 
 Her snows and stonns, that desolate the plain ; 
 With thee the muse should trace the pleasing road, 
 That leads from nature up to nature's God ; 
 Humble to learn, and, as she knows the more. 
 Glad to obey, and happy to adore. 
 
 PETER WHALLEY. 
 
 Northampton, Aug, 25, 1750. 
 
THE 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Occasion of the Meditations, solitaiy walk in a church . . 9 
 
 Handsome altar-piece ; gratitude celebrated . . . .10 
 
 Solomon's temple ; his noble sentiments at the dedication ; the 
 passage illustrated H 
 
 The Holy Ghost dwelling in our hearts; a rich privilege; an 
 obligation to holiness 12 
 
 The floor covered with funeral inscriptions . . . .14 
 
 Wisdom of meditating on our latter end ib. 
 
 Promiscuous lodgement, and amicable agreement of corpses, 
 suggest humility and concord 15 
 
 Monument of an infant ; its fortunate circumstances ; superior 
 felicity of survivors \^ 
 
 Monument of a youth ; grief of the parents ; mitigated or ag- 
 gravated by the prospect of the invisible state ; exhortation to 
 educate children religiously . . . . . . .18 
 
 Monument of a young man, cut off in his prime ; how unexpected 
 and afflictive the stroke ; the frailty of all sublunaiy happiness 21 
 
 Reflection on the three preceding exits ; the uncertainty of life ; 
 call to be always ready 23 
 
 This farther urged from the instance of a person killed by a mis- 
 fortune ; nothing casual, but all ordered by Providence . . 25 
 
 Case of a lady, who died in childbed ; her character ; with regard 
 to earthly things, we know not what is really desirable, or 
 tinilygood 28 
 
 Remarks on Mrs. Stonhouse's monument, in the great church at 
 Northampton 30 
 
 A religious father taken from his young family ; his behaviour on 
 a dying bed ; their support in a fatherless state . . .33 
 
 Monument of a middle-aged person, immersed in business ; dis- 
 appointment of his schemes ; his dying acknowledgments ; the 
 folly of worldly-mindedness ; very bitterness in the end . . 37 
 
 The graves of the aged ; the difficulties and hazard of a late re- 
 pentance ; youth entreated to enter upon a course of holiness 
 without delay 40 
 
Xlii CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The singular wisdom and felicity of the righteous ; the rest of 
 their bodies ; the calmness of their departure ; the safety of 
 their disembodied souls ; their delightful situation till the 
 judgment-day 42 
 
 Monument of a warrior, slain in battle ; reflections on the death 
 of Christ, that it was voluntary, foreseen, undergone for ene- 
 mies ; was most torturous, lingering, and ignominious . . 46 
 
 The meanness of being obliged to a monument for perpetuating 
 our names ; author's wish for himself ; true method of eter- 
 nizing our character 49 
 
 The vault ; its awful aspect ; grandeur in abasement ; the vanity 
 of pleasures, honours, and riches 52 
 
 The clock strikes ; a warning to redeem the time . . .55 
 
 The wonderful change which takes place in the tomb, displayed 
 in several particulars 56 
 
 Soliloquy of a lover ; admonition to the ladies ; true beauty of 
 the fair sex 57 
 
 Sin the cause of our dissolution 59 
 
 Subject of mortality brought home to our own case ; incitement " 
 to improve life ; this the best embalming . . . .60 
 
 View of our Saviour's sepulchre ; his lying in the grave has soft- 
 ened it for his people ; faith in his dying love disarms death . 62 
 
 The resurrection of the righteous ; their meeting the Judge ; 
 their acceptance at the great tribunal 65 
 
 Sickness, sin, and death destroyed ; bliss or miseiy unchangeable ; 
 observation on eternity GS 
 
 The wicked ; the anguish of their last sickness. No hope but 
 from the religion they despised ; that very precarious ; the 
 horror of their dissolution ; this the beginning of sorrows ; 
 their treatment in the invisible world ; reserved to the judgment 
 of the great day 68 
 
 They rise, though reluctant ; are distracted with terror ; covered 
 with contempt ; condemned to endless wo . . . .69 
 
 To be instrumental in saving our fellow-creatures from this 
 misery, the truest exercise of benevolence . . . .73 
 
 A reflection on the vast importance of these truths ; a persuasive 
 to act under the believing consideration of them ; enforced by 
 the inexpressible necessity of preparing for them . . .74 
 
 The whole closes with a view of the present security, and future 
 glory of the righteous 75 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 
 
 Walk in the garden ; summer morning ; a soaring lark ; invita- 
 tion to early rising 79 
 
CONTENTS. Xliii 
 
 Page 
 
 Vastness of the heavens, greater extent of divine mercy . .81 
 
 The sun ; its rising glories ; emblem of Christ, in its enlighten- 
 ing, fructifying, cheering, and extensive influences . . .82 
 
 Dews ; their transient brightness ; their refreshing nature ; their 
 immense number ; difficult passage in the Psalms cleared up . 88 
 
 The various, but harmonious procedure of providence and grace . 92 
 
 View of the country, and its principal productions ; particularly 
 of an orchard and kitchen-garden ; chiefly characterized as 
 useful . . . . " 93 
 
 Christ, made and recovered, upholds and actuates all ; address to 
 mankind on this occasion 99 
 
 Observations contracted to the garden ; fields of literature left 
 for the study of the Bible 103 
 
 Fragrance of flowers ; its fugitive nature, another motive to 
 shake off sloth ; the delightful sensation it creates, a faint 
 representation of Christ's sacrifice ; all our performances pol- 
 luted ; this the cause of our acceptance 104 
 
 Colours of flowers, how perfect in every kind; with what skill 
 disposed ; fineness of the flowery texture ; inducement to trust 
 in Providence 107 
 
 The folly of pride in dress ; our true ornaments displayed . . 108 
 
 Flowers naturally inspire delight ; what pleasure must arise from 
 the beatific vision . . . 110 
 
 Solomon pictures out the blessed Jesus by the most delicate 
 flowers ; beauties in the creature lead us to the Creator . .112 
 
 Diversity of flowers, in their airs, habits, attitudes, and linea- 
 ments ; wisdom of the Almighty Maker ; the perfection and 
 simplicity of his operations 114 
 
 Difference between individuals of the same species, emblem of 
 the smaller diflferences among Protestants . . . .117 
 
 Regular succession of flowers ; some of the choicest sets de- 
 scribed ; pleasing effects produced by this economy ; a benevo- 
 lent Providence apparent in conducting it . . . .118 
 
 This beautiful disposition, and all that is admirable in the crea- 
 tion, referred to Christ as the author ; to consider the things 
 that are made, in this view, has excellent influence on our 
 faith and love 123 
 
 The structure of flowers so correct, could not be altered, but to 
 their prejudice ; the time of their appearing chosen with the 
 nicest precaution ; these circumstances a striking argument 
 for resignation to the disposals of Heaven . . . .125 
 
 Quotations from Casimir and Juvenal translated . . . 127 
 
 A favourite tenet of INIr. Pope's rightly stated . . . .129 
 
 The brute creatures unaffected with flowers ; their fine qualities 
 peculiarly intended to delight mankind ; all things constituted 
 with a particular regard to our advantage ; this, an endearing 
 obligation to gratitude; but a more , engaging motive is the 
 gift of an immortal soul ib. 
 
Xliv CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Remark on the notion of a great poet 132 
 
 The cultivated garden, an image of a well-nurtured mind ; address 
 to persons concerned in the education of youth . . .136 
 
 Flowers in the bud, figurative of a niggard ; flowers in full ex- 
 pansion, expressive of a benevolent disposition . . . 138 
 
 Sun-flower ; its remarkable attachment to the sun ; such should 
 be our adherence to the Saviour 139 
 
 Passion-flower ; its description ; with a religious improvement . 142 
 
 Sensitive plant ; shrinks from every touch ; such should be our 
 solicitous care to avoid sin 145 
 
 Tlie delicacy of flowers, and coarseness of their roots ; the en- 
 nobling change of our bodies at tlie resurrection ; this should 
 reconcile us to the thoughts of dissolution .... 147 
 
 Passage from Theocritus ; the perfections of flowers soon decay ; 
 the charms of complexion scarce more lasting . . . . 149 
 
 Instances of transitory continuance in the noblest flowers ; the 
 honours of the future state unfading 151 
 
 All the delights of the flowery season pass away ; the celestial 
 entertainments know no end 152 
 
 Not flowers only, but the most durable things in nature, are 
 perishing; their felicity stable, who have God for their por- 
 tion 153 
 
 Retreat into an arbour ; practice of St. Augustine, pattern for 
 our imitation ; coolness of this shady situation ; the insuffer- 
 able heat that rages abroad ; our safety in all the dangers of 
 life, and amidst the terrors of eternal judgment, if sheltered by 
 the Redeemer's protection, and interested in his merits . .155 
 
 The bees ; their ingenuity ; their industiy ; set an example for 
 the author 157 
 
 A distant prospect of the whole scene, with its various decora- 
 tions, reminds the beholder of heaven ; its glories not to be 
 described, but most passionately desired 158 
 
 A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 Design of the whole — Angels — ^The visible heavens — Stars — Comets 
 — Planets — Sun — Moon — Thunders — Lightnings — Clouds, wintry and 
 vernal — Rainbow — Storms and Tempests — Pestilence — Heat and Cold 
 — Ocean — Woods and Shrubs — Vine and Fruit-trees — Meadows and 
 Fields — Mines and Jewels—Fountains and Rivers — Birds — Bees — Silk- 
 worm — Cattle, and creatures in every element — General Chorus of 
 praise. 
 
CONTENTS. Xlv 
 
 CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE NIGHT. 
 
 Page 
 
 A DELIGHTFUL evening walk ; the unmolested enjoyment of such 
 pleasures, owing to our late victory over the rebels . . 201 
 
 Tlie setting sun 204 
 
 TvN-ilight ; its usefulness ; serious consideration . . . 205 
 
 The dewy coolness ; its beneficial influence on nature ; returns 
 of solitude equally useful to man 207 
 
 Angels our spectators ; God cAcr present ; comfortable improve- 
 ment of this truth 209 
 
 The day ended ; the softness, the shortness, of time ; the work 
 to be done while it lasts j to squander it away the most de- 
 structive extravagance 211 
 
 The profound silence ; universal cessation of business . .216 
 
 The variations of nature, pleasing and advantageous . . . 2J 9 
 
 Darkness j the obliging manner of its taking place ; wild beasts of 
 the desert, and savages in human shape, make use of this op- 
 portunity . , 22t 
 
 Darkness renders the least spark visible ; yet steals from our sight 
 all the lovely distinctions of things 223 
 
 Sleep ; its cheering nature ; the gift of Heaven ; fine preparatives 
 for its approach ; the kindness of Providence in guarding our 
 slumbers ; . . 226 
 
 Dreams ; their unaccountable oddness ; many people's waking 
 thoughts no less chimerical ....... 230 
 
 A very singular and happy circumstance, attending sleep and dreams 232 
 
 Ghosts ; our unreasonable timorousness on this occasion ; the true 
 object of fear; the reality and design of apparitions, deduced 
 from a passage in Job 233 
 
 The owl ; its gloomy disposition j unholy persons incapable of re- 
 lishing the delights of heaven 238 
 
 Owl screaming supposed to be a token of death ; the many real 
 presages of this great change ; due preparation pointed out, and 
 pressed 239 
 
 The nightingale ; her channing song ; entertains the lovers of re- 
 tirement ; how to have a sweeter melody in our owti breasts . 242 
 
 The very different circumstances of mankind, particularly of the 
 gay and the afflicted ; address to the devotees of mirth and 
 sensuality 243 
 
 The glow-worm and ignis fatuus ; the pleasures of the world, and 
 powers of unenlightened reason 246 
 
 A comet, imagined to be the forerunner of judgments ; licentious- 
 ness abounding in a nation a much more formidable omen ; the 
 
 distemper among the cattle 248 
 
 Northern lights ; the panic they occasion; the general conflagration 251 
 
 The moon rising ; brightens as she advances ; such should be our 
 moral conduct 253 
 
Xlvi CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Moon opens a majestic scene ; how worthy onr admiration . 254 
 
 Moon, a most serviceable appendage to our globe . , . 255 
 Moon shines with derivative light ; Christians receive their all 
 
 from their Saviour 257 
 
 Moon always varying ; the things of this world liable to perpetual 
 vicissitudes ; our own righteousness unequal and imperfect, our 
 Redeemer's complete, and always the same .... 258 
 Moon under an eclipse ; gazed at by multitudes ; the faults of 
 
 eminent persons seldom escape observation .... 262 
 Moon reflected by the ocean ; the virtues of persons, in distin- 
 guished stations, influential on others 263 
 
 Moon actuates the sea ; the everlasting joys of heaven attract and 
 
 refine the affections 264 
 
 Prayer, a reasonable service ; praise, a delightful duty ; with de- 
 vout recollections proper for the night 265 
 
 CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 
 
 Walk on the summit of a hill. The advancing night withdraws 
 the rural prospect ; opens the beauties of the sky . . . 273 
 
 Fragrance of the blooming beans 274 
 
 The heavens, a noble field for the display of the divine perfections 275 
 Folly of judicial astrology ; right use of contemplating the stars . ib. 
 A sketch of the most remarkable discoveries of our modern astro- 
 nomy 277 
 
 Religion and necessary business ; religion and innocent pleasure 
 as consistent as the annual and diurnal motions of the earth . 278 
 
 The sun, its enormous size 280 
 
 Stars, the centres of systems ; their inconceivable distance . 281 
 
 Other skies furnished with other stars ib. 
 
 The greatness of the Creator . . . . . . . 283 
 
 The preceding obsei-vations inculcate humility ; show the little- 
 ness of terrestrial things ib. 
 
 The stupendous condescension of God, in his gracious regards to 
 
 the children of men 285 
 
 The prodigious heinousness of human guilt .... 287 
 
 The richness of Christ's atonement, and its complete sufficiency 
 
 for the most deplorable cases of sin and misery . . . 290 
 The power of God manifested in the starry heavens ; this the 
 
 Christian's constant safeguard, and sure resource . . . 293 
 The miserable condition of the ungodly, who have Omnipotence 
 
 for their enemy • 297 
 
 The unwearied patience of this Almighty Being .... 298 
 The wisdom of God displayed in the skies ; submission to his 
 dispensations, even when they seem most frowning and severe ; 
 all spring from love, and will terminate in good . . . 300 
 
CONTENTS. * Xlvii 
 
 " Page 
 
 Tlie goodness of God diffused through the vast system of created 
 tilings, but far more ilhistriously exemplified in the work of 
 redemption ; the former ^ievv gives a most amiable, the latter 
 a perfectly ravishing, idea of the divine beneficence . . 303 
 
 The purity of God faintly represented by the unspotted firma- 
 ment ; the defilement of sinful man ; the immaculate excellence 
 of his Surety 309 
 
 The immeasurable dimensions of the sky; the greater extent of 
 the divine bounty and mercy ; the last of these subjects, being 
 so peculiarly comfortable to sinners, considered somewhat co- 
 piously 312 
 
 What sustains the arch of heaven, and supports the globes it con- 
 tains ; the same invisible hand upholds the Christian in his course 319 
 
 Tlie faithfulness of God portrayed in the stability of the heavenly 
 bodies, and perpetuity of their motions ; the unreasonableness 
 of our unbelief ; motives to an assured faith . . . .323 
 
 Various attributes of the divine nature appear, with a glimmering 
 light, in the celestial luminaries ; all shine forth, with the fullest 
 lustre, in Christ Jesus 325 
 
 The dignity of prayer, and happiness of having God for our portion 331 
 
 The horrible ingratitude, and destructive perverseness, of living 
 without God in the world 333 
 
 All the rolling worlds on high punctually obedient to their Maker's 
 orders ; are a pattern, in this respect, and a provocative to the 
 rational creation 335 
 
 The gradual appearance of stars ; and progressive state of a true 
 conversion 338 
 
 The multitude of stars, especially in the Galaxy; the more atten- 
 tively surveyed, the greater number discovered; this applied 
 to the unsearchable treasures of wisdom in the Scriptures, of 
 merit in Christ, of bliss in heaven 340 
 
 The celestial bodies disposed in such a manner, as to be delight- 
 ful and serviceable to man, adorn his abode, and measure his 
 time ; a silent admonition this to improve the talent . . 342 
 
 Brightness of the stars ; encouragement to fidelity in the mi- 
 nisterial office 344 
 
 Polar star ; its invariable situation ; guide to the ancient mari- 
 ners ; such the word of God to our souls ; persuasive to follow 
 its unerring dictates 345 
 
 Variety in the magnitude and splendour of the stars ; different de- 
 grees in the world of glory ; yet all the blessed completely happy 347 
 
 Projection and attraction, the grand principles that actuate the 
 planetaiy system ; faith and love bear much the same propor- 
 tion in the economy of Christianity 343 
 
 Tlie admirable effects, and extensive influences, of attraction ; the 
 agency of the Holy Ghost on the human mind . . . 350 
 
 \'ast gradation in the scale of beings ; all are objects of the divine 
 care, and full of the divine presence 353 
 
Xlviii CONTENTS. 
 
 ♦ Page 
 
 llie surpassing worth of an immortal soul ; a solicitude for its 
 final welfare urged . 358 
 
 An unthinking view of the skies is affecting ; much more a ra- 
 tional and devout one ....... 359 
 
 The scantiness of our knowledge, with regard to the celestial bo- 
 dies ; after all our search, they are objects of admiration rather 
 than of science ; exhortation to such pursuits as are of easy 
 attainment, and will be of everlasting advantage . . . 360 
 
 Short recapitulation of the whole ; and an hymn of praise, suited 
 to the occasion ........ 362 
 
 N.B. It may seem unaccountable to an unlearned reader, that 
 astronomers should speak such amazing things, and speak them with 
 such an air of assurance, concerning the distances and magnitudes, 
 the motions and relations, of the heavenly bodies. I would desire 
 such a person to consider the case of eclipses, and with what exact- 
 ness they are calculated. They are not only foretold, but the very 
 instant of their beginning is determined : the precise time of their 
 continuance is assigned ; assigned, almost to the nicety of a moment ; 
 and, what is still more surprising, for the space of hundreds or 
 thousands of years to come. — As this is a matter of fact, absolutely 
 indisputable, it is also a very obvious, yet solid demonstration, that 
 the principles of science, on which those calculations proceed, are not 
 mere conjecture, or precarious supposition, but have a real, a certain 
 foundation, in the nature and constitution of things. 
 
 A WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 Introduction — Shortness of the winter's day — Incessant rain, pro- 
 ducing a flood — ^Tempest ; its effects, at land, by sea — Pitchy dark- 
 ness ; riding in it — Thick rime — Keen frost, and serenity of weather 
 —Severe cold, and piercing winds — Deep snow — General thaw — Ever- 
 greens — Storm of hail — Rainbow- 
 
MEDITATIONS 
 
 AMONG 
 
 THE TOMBS. 
 
 Every Stone that we look upon, in this Repository of past Ages, is 
 both an Entertainment and a Monitor. 
 
 Plain-Dealer, vol. i. N** 42. 
 
TO 
 
 Miss R**^ t^**. 
 
 MadaMj 
 
 These Reflections, the one on the deepest^ the other on the gayest 
 scenes of nature, when they proceeded privately from the pen, were 
 addressed to a lady of the most valuable endo^Mnents ; who cro^ATied 
 all her other endearing qualities, by a fen^ent love of Christ, and an 
 exemplary conformity to his divine pattern. She, alas! lives no 
 longer on earth ; unless it be in the honours of a distinguished cha- 
 racter, and in the bleeding remembrance of her acquaintance. 
 
 It is impossible, INIadam, to wish you a richer blessing, or a more 
 substantial happiness, than that the same spirit of unfeigned faith, 
 the same course of undefiled religion, which have enabled her to 
 triumph over death, may both animate and adorn your life. And you 
 will permit me to declare, that my chief inducement in requesting 
 your acceptance of the follo\^^ng INleditations, now they make a public 
 appearance from the press, is, that they are designed to cultivate the 
 same sacred principle, and to promote the same excellent practice. 
 
 Long, Madam, may you bloom in all the vivacity and amiableness 
 of youth, like the charming subject of one of these Contemplations. 
 But at the same time remember, that, with regard to such inferior 
 accomplishments, you must one day fade, (may it prove some very 
 remote period !) like the mournful objects of the other. This con- 
 sideration mil prompt you to go on, as you have begun, in adding the 
 
 b2 
 
4 DEDICATION. 
 
 meekness of wisdom, and all the beat/ties of holiness, to the graces of 
 an engaging person, and the refinements of a polite education. 
 
 And might — O! might the ensuing hints furnish you with the 
 least assistance, in prosecuting so desirable an end ; might they con- 
 tribute, in any degree, to establish your faith or elevate your devo- 
 tion ; they would, then, administer to the author such a satisfaction, 
 as applause cannot give, nor censure take away ; a satisfaction, which 
 I shall be able to enjoy, even in those awful moments, when all 
 that captivates the eye is sinking in darkness, and every glory of this 
 lower world disappearing for ever. 
 
 These wishes, Madam, as they are a most agreeable employ of my 
 thoughts, so they come attended with this additional circumstance of 
 pleasure, that they are also the sincerest expressions of that very great 
 esteem, with which I am. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 Your most obedient, 
 
 Blost humble servant, 
 
 Weston-Favell, near JAMES HERVEY. 
 
 Northampton, 
 May 20, 1746. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The first of these occasional Meditations begs leave 
 to remind my readers of their latter end; and would 
 invite them to set, not their houses only, but, which 
 is inexpressibly more needful, their souls, in order; 
 that they may be able, through all the intermediate 
 stages, to look forward upon their approaching exit 
 without any anxious apprehensions ; and, when the 
 great change commences, may bid adieu to ter- 
 restrial things, with all the calmness of a cheerful 
 resignation, with all the comforts of a well-grounded 
 faith. 
 
 The other attempts to sketch out some little traces 
 of the all-sufficicnci/ of our Redeemer for the grand 
 and gracious purposes of everlasting salvation : that 
 a sense of his unutterable dignity and infinite per- 
 fections, may incite us to regard him with senti- 
 ments of the most profound veneration ; to long for 
 an assured interest in his merits with all the ardency 
 of desire ; and to trust in his powerful mediation, 
 with an a^ance not to be shaken by any tempta- 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 tions, not to be shared with any performances of 
 our own. 
 
 I flatter myself, that the Thoughts conceived 
 among the Tombs may be welcome to the serious 
 and humane mind : because, as there are few who 
 have not consigned the remains of some dear rela- 
 tions or honouxed friends to those silent reposito- 
 ries, so there are none but must be sensible that 
 this is the house appointed for all livings and that 
 they themselves are shortly to remove into the same 
 solemn mansions. And who would not turn aside, 
 for a while, from the most favourite amusements 
 to view the place where his once-loved companions 
 lie t Who would not sometimes survey those apart- 
 ments where he himself is to take up an abode till 
 time shall be no more ? 
 
 As to the other little essay, may I not humbly 
 presume that the very subject itself will recom- 
 mend the remarks ? For, who is not delighted with 
 the prospect of the blooming creation, and even 
 charmed with the delicate attractions of flowers ? 
 Who does not covet to assemble them in the gar- 
 den, or wear them in a nosegay ? Since this is a 
 passion so universal, who would not be willing to 
 render it productive of the sublimest improvement ? 
 This piece of holy frugality I have ventured to sug- 
 
PREFACE. . 7 
 
 gest, and endeavoured to exemplify, in the second 
 letter ; that, while the hand is cropping the trans- 
 ient beauties of a flower, the attentive mind may 
 be enriching itself with solid and lasting good. 
 And I cannot but entertain some pleasing hopes, 
 that the nicest taste may receive and relish religious 
 impressions, when they are conveyed by such lovely 
 monitors; when the instructive lessons are found, 
 not on the leaves of some formidable folio, but 
 stand legible on the fine sarcenet of a narcissus; 
 when they savour not of the lamp and recluse, but 
 come breathing from the fragrant bosom of a 
 jo7iquiL 
 
ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 TO THE 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 I MUST entreat the purchasers of the former Editions 
 to excuse the freedom I have taken in making se- 
 veral considerable additions to this. It has been 
 done at the persuasion of some judicious friends, 
 who apprehended the piece might be more useful, 
 and less unworthy of the public patronage, if it 
 touched upon some very interesting subjects, hi- 
 therto omitted. As I had no views, but to render 
 the performance more pleasing and serviceable, 
 no reader, I hope, will be offended at my practice, 
 or complain of it as injurious. Nevertheless, as I 
 would willingly avoid whatever might seem to 
 stand in need of an Apology, I desire leave to 
 declare, ihdit no future enlargements or alterations 
 shall be suffered to depreciate what, with the deep- 
 est gratitude for their past encouragement, I now 
 commit to the candour of the public. 
 
I>cawXL lav R.WestaJl ILA.. 
 
 Hngara-ved "by Qia-HeaxK. 
 
 MISm^IE-^'S M]EIE)inr^Tir(D)M^ 
 
 HER HA^TDS.l'RXMBLING TTNCETR DIREFTJL APPREHENSIOKS, WIPE THE 
 
 cam DEWS ynoM the i^ivrn cheeks; 
 
 rtTBiLisHED MAmrm 20.I8I8. bye.eewajrbs, he^wwate street. 
 
MEDITATIONS 
 
 AMONG 
 
 THE TOMBS. 
 
 IN A LETTER TO A LADY. 
 
 Madam^ 
 
 Travelling lately into Cornwall, I happened to alight at 
 a considerable village in that county j where^ finding myself 
 under an unexpected necessity of staying a little, I took a 
 walk to the church!^ The doors, like the heaven to which 
 they lead, were wide open, and readily admitted an unwor- 
 thy stranger. Pleased with the opportunity, 1 resolved to 
 spend a few minutes under the sacred roof. 
 
 In a situation so retired and awful, I could not avoid 
 falling into a train of meditations, serious and mournfully 
 pleasing ', which, I trust, were in some degree profitable 
 to me, while they possessed and warmed my thoughts ; and, 
 if they may administer any satisfaction to you, Madam, 
 now they are recollected, and committed to Writing, I shall 
 receive a fresh pleasure from them. 
 
 * I had named, in some former editions, a particular church, viz. 
 KiLKHAMPTON ; where several of the monuments, described in the 
 following pages, really exist. But as I thought it convenient to men- 
 tion some cases here which are not, according to the best of my 
 remembrance, referred to in any inscriptions there, I have now 
 omitted the name, that imagination might operate more freely, and 
 the improvement of the reader be consulted, without any thing that 
 .should look like a variation from truth and fact. 
 
10 MEDITATIONS 
 
 It was an ancient pile j reared by hands, that;, ages ago, 
 were mouldered into dust 5 situate in the centre of a large 
 burial-ground; remote from all the noise and hurry of 
 tumultuous life ; the body spacious ; the structure lofty 3 
 the whole magnificently plain. A row of regular pillars 
 extended themselves through the midst j supporting the 
 roof with simplicity and with dignity. The light that 
 passed through the windows, seemed to shed a kind of 
 luminous obscurity, which gave every object a grave and 
 venerable air. The deep silence added to the gloomy 
 aspect, and both heightened by the loneliness of the place, 
 greatly increased the solemnity of the scene. A sort of 
 religious dread stole insensibly on my mind, while I ad- 
 vanced, all pensive and thoughtful, along the inmost aisle : 
 such a dread, as hushed every ruder passion, and dissi- 
 pated all the gay images of an alluring world. 
 
 Having adored that Eternal Majesty, who, far from 
 being confined to temples made with hands, has heaven for 
 his throne and the earth for his footstool, I took parti- 
 cular notice of a handsome altar-piece ; presented, as I was 
 afterwards informed, by the master-builders o( Stotv ;'^ out 
 of gratitude, I presume, to that gracious God, who car- 
 ried them through their work, and enabled them to ^'^ bring 
 forth their topstone with joy." 
 
 O ! how amiable is gratitude ! especially when it has the 
 Supreme Benefactor for its object. I have always looked 
 upon gratitude as the most exalted principle that can 
 actuate the heart of man. It has something noble, disin- 
 terested, and (if I may be allowed the term) generously 
 devout. Repentance indicates our nature fallen, and prayer 
 turns chiefly upon a regard to one's self. But the exercises 
 
 * The name of a grand seat, belonging to tlie late Earl of Bat/t ; 
 remarkable formerly for its excellent workmanship and elegant furni- 
 ture ; once the principal resort of the quality and gentry of the West ; 
 but now demolished, laid even with the ground, and scarce one stone 
 left upon another ; so that corn may grow, or nettles spring, where 
 Stow lately stood. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. il 
 
 of gratitude subsisted in Paradise, when there was no 
 fault to deplore -, and will be perpetuated in heaven, when 
 '' God shall be all in all." 
 
 The language of this sweet temper is, ^^ I am unspeak- 
 ably obliged : what return shall I make ?" And surely, 
 it is no improper expression of an unfeigned thankfulness, 
 to decorate our Creator's courts, and beautify " the place 
 where his honour dwelleth." Of old, the habitation of 
 his feet was glorious : let it not, now, be sordid or con- 
 temptible. It must grieve an ingenuous mind, and be a 
 reproach to any people, to have their own houses wainscotted 
 with cedar, and painted with vermilion ; while the temple 
 of the Lord of hosts is destitute of every decent ornament. 
 
 Here I recollected and was charmed with Solotnoyis fine 
 address to the Almighty, at the dedication of his famous 
 temple. With immense charge, and exquisite skill, he had 
 erected the most rich and finished structure that the sun 
 ever saw. Yet, upon a review of his work, and a reflection 
 on the transcendent perfections of the Godhead, how he 
 exalts the one and abases the other ! The building was too 
 glorious for the mightiest monarch to inhabit 3 too sacred, 
 for unhallowed feet even to enter j yet infinitely too mean 
 for the Deity to reside in. It was, and the royal worshipper 
 acknowledged it to be, a most marvellous vouchsafement 
 in uncreated Excellency, to *^*^put his name there." The 
 whole passage breathes such a delicacy, and is animated 
 with such a sublimity of sentiment, that I cannot persuade 
 myself to pass on without repeating it. But will God 
 indeed dwell on earth ? Behold ! the heaven, and heaven 
 of heavens, cannot contain thee -, how much less this house 
 that I have huilded !^ Incomparable saying ! worthy the 
 
 * 1 Kifigs, viii. 27. Btit will: a fine abrupt beginning, most signifi- 
 cantly describing the amazement and rapture of the royal prophet's 
 mind ! — God : he uses no epithet, where wTiters of inferior discern- 
 ment would have been fond to multiply them : but speaks of the 
 Deity, as an incomprehensible Being, whose perfections and glories 
 
12 MEDITATIONS 
 
 wisest of men. Who would not choose to possess such 
 an elevated devotion, rather than to own all the glittering 
 materials of that sumptuous edifice ? 
 
 We are apt to be struck with admiration at the stateli- 
 ness and grandeur of a masterly performance in architec- 
 ture J and, perhaps, on a sight of the ancient sanctuary, 
 should have made the superficial observation of the disciples, 
 '' What manner of stones, and what buildings are here ?" 
 But what a nobler turn of thought, and juster taste of 
 things, does it discover, to join with IsraeFs king in cele- 
 brating the condescension of the Divine Inhabitant ! that 
 the High and Lofty One, who fills immensity with his 
 glory, should, in a peculiar manner, fix his abode there ! 
 should there manifest an extraordinary degree of his bene- 
 dictive presence ; permit sinful mortals to approach his 
 majesty j and promise " to make them joyful in his house 
 of prayer !" This should more sensibly affect our hearts, 
 than the most curious arrangement of stones can delight 
 our eyes. 
 
 Nay, the everlasting God does not disdain to dwell in 
 
 are exalted above all praise. — Dwell: to bestow on sinful creatures 
 a propitious look ; to favour them with a transient visit of kindness ; 
 even this were an unutterable obligation. Will he then vouchsafe to 
 fix his abode among them, and take up his stated residence with 
 them? — Indeed: a word, in this connection, peculiarly emphatical, 
 expressive of a condescension, wonderful and extraordinary almost 
 beyond all credibility. — Behold: intimating the continued, or rather 
 the increasing surprise of the speaker, and awakening the attention 
 of the hearer. — Behold! the heaven: the spacious concave of the 
 firmament ; that wide extended azure circumference, in which worlds 
 unnumbered perform their revolutions, is too scanty an apartment 
 for the Godhead. — Nay, the heaven of heavens : those vastly higher 
 tracts, which lie far beyond the limits of human survey ; to which 
 our very thoughts can hardly soar; even these (unbounded as they 
 are) cannot afford an adequate habitation for Jehovah ; even these 
 dwindle into a point, when compared with the infinitude of his es- 
 sence ; even these "are as nothing before Him." Hoio much less 
 proportionate is this poor diminutive speck (which I have been 
 erecting and embellishing) to so august a Presence, so immense a. 
 Majesty ! 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 13 
 
 our souls by his Holy Spirit ; and to make even our bodies 
 his temple. Tell me, ye that frame critical judgments, 
 and balance nicely the distinction of things 5 " is this most 
 astonishing, or most rejoicing?" He humbleth himself, 
 the Scripture assures us, even to behold the things that 
 are in heaven."^ 'Tis a most condescending favour, if he 
 pleases to take the least approving notice of angels and 
 archangels, when they bow down in homage from their 
 celestial thrones. Will he then graciously regard, will he 
 be united, most intimately united, to poor, polluted, breath- 
 ing dust ? Unparalleled honour ! Invaluable privilege ! 
 Be this my portion, and I shall not covet crowns, nor 
 envy conquerors. 
 
 But let me remember, what a sanctity of disposition 
 and uprightness of conversation, so exalted a relation de- 
 mands : remember this, " and rejoice with trembling." 
 Durst I commit any iniquity, while I tread these hallowed 
 courts ? Could the Jewish High Priest allow himself in 
 any known transgression, while he made that solemn yearly 
 entrance t into the Holy of Holies, and stood before the 
 immediate presence of Jehovah ? No, truly. In such cir- 
 cumstances, a thinking person must shudder at the most 
 remote solicitation to any wilful offence. I should now 
 be shocked at the least indecency of behaviour, and am 
 apprehensive of every appearance of evil. And why do 
 we not carry this holy jealousy into all our ordinary life ? 
 Why do we not, in every place, reverence ourselves 3 1 as 
 persons dedicated to the Divinity, as Uving temples of the 
 
 * Psal. cxiii. 6. f Heb. ix. 7. 
 
 ■vsoLVTwy Sf f^akio-T aia-)fyvso asavTov, was the favourite maxim 
 
 of Pythagoras, and supposed to be one of the best moral precepts ever 
 given to the Heathen workl. With what superior force, and very sin- 
 gular advantage, does this argument take place in the Christian 
 scheme ; where we are taught to regard ourselves, not merely as 
 intellectual beings, who have reason for our monitor ; but as conse- 
 crated creatures, who have a God of the most consummate perfection, 
 ever with us, ever in us. 
 
14 MEDITATIONS 
 
 Godhead? Foi% if we are real^ and not merely nominal 
 Christians, the God of glory, according to his own promise,* 
 dwells hi us, and walhs in us. O ! that this one doctrine of 
 our religion might operate, with an abiding efficacy, upon 
 our consciences ! It would be instead of a thousand laws, 
 to regulate our conduct j instead of a thousand motiv^es, 
 to quicken us in holiness. Under the influence of such a 
 conviction, we should study to maintain a purity .of in- 
 tention, a dignity of action ; and to walk worthy of that 
 transcendently majestic Being, who admits us to a fellow- 
 ship with himself, and with his Son Jesus Christ. 
 
 The next thing which engaged my attention, was the 
 lettered Jioor. The pavement, somewhat like EzekieVs roll, 
 was written over from one end to the other. I soon per- 
 ceived the comparison to hold good in another respect ; 
 and the inscriptions to be matter of mourning, lamenta- 
 tion, and woe.f They seemed to court my observation j 
 silently inviting me to read them. And what would these 
 dumb monitors inform me of? '^ That, beneath their little 
 circumferences, were deposited such and such pieces of 
 clay, which once lived, and moved, and talked : that they 
 had received a charge to preserve their names, and were the 
 remaining trustees of their memory." 
 
 Ah ! said I, is such my situation ? The adorable 
 Creator around me, and the bones of my fellow-creatures 
 under me ! Surely, then, I have great reason to cry out, 
 with the revering patriarch. How dreadful is this place ! | 
 Seriousness and devotion become this house for ever. May 
 I never enter it lightly or irreverently 3 but with a profound 
 awe, and godly fear. 
 
 0/ that they ivere ivise!\\ said the inspired penman. 
 It was hts last wish for his dear people. He breathed it 
 out, and gave up the ghost. But what is wisdom? It 
 consists not in refined speculations, accurate researches 
 
 * 2 Cor. vi. 16. t Ezek. ii. 10. 
 
 + Gen. xxviii. 17. II Deut. xxxii. 29. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 15 
 
 into nature^ or an universal acquaintance with history. 
 The divine lawgiver settles this important point in his 
 next aspiration : O ! that they understood this ! that they 
 had right apprehensions of their spiritual interests and 
 eternal concerns ! that they had eyes to discern and in- 
 clinations to pursue^ the things which belong to their 
 peace ! But how shall they attain this valuable knowledge r 
 I send them not, adds the illustrious teacher, to turn over 
 all the volumes of literature : they may acquire, and much 
 more expeditiously, this science of life, by considering 
 their latter end. This spark of heaven is often lost under 
 the glitter of pompous erudition j but shines clearly in 
 the gloomy mansions of the tomb : drowned is this gentle 
 whisper amidst the noise of secular aflfairs -, but speaks 
 distinctly in the retireinents of serious contemplation. Be- 
 hold! how providentially I am brought to the school of 
 wisdom!-* The grave is the most faithful master jf and 
 these instances of mortality the most instructive lessons. 
 Come then, calm attention, and compose my thoughts 5 
 come, thou celestial Spirit, and enlighten my mind 3 that 
 I may so peruse these awful pages, as to become '^ wise 
 unto salvation." 
 
 Examining the records of mortality, I found the memo- 
 rials of a promiscuous multitude. % They were huddled, at 
 least they rested together, Avithout any regard to rank or 
 seniority. None were ambitious of the uppermost rooms 
 or chief seats, in this house of mourning. None entertained 
 fond and eager expectations of being honourably greeted 
 
 * The man how wise, who, sick of gaudy scenes. 
 Is led by choice to take his favourite walk 
 Beneath death's gloomy, silent, cj^ress shades, 
 Unpierced by vanit}^s fantastic ray ! 
 To read his monuments, to weigh his dust. 
 Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs ! 
 
 Night Thoughts. 
 •f Wait the great teacher death. — Pope. 
 J Mista smum acjuvenmn densantur funera. — Hor. 
 
16 MEDITATIONS 
 
 in their darksome cells. The man of years and experiencCj 
 reputed as an oracle in his generation, was content to lie 
 dowTi at the feet of a babe. In this house appointed for 
 all living, the servant was equally accommodated, and 
 lodged in the same story with his master. The poor 
 indigent lay as softly, and slept as soundly, as the most 
 opulent possessor. All the distinction that subsisted was 
 a grassy hillock, bound with osiers ; or a sepulchral stone, 
 ornamented with imagery. 
 
 Why then, said my working thoughts^ O ! why should we 
 raise such a mighty stir about superiority and precedence ; 
 when the next remove will reduce us all to a state of 
 equal meanness ? AVhy should we exalt ourselveS;, or 
 debase others ; since we must all, one day, be upon a 
 common level, and blended together in the same undis- 
 tinguished dust ? O ! that this consideration might humble 
 my owii and others' pride, and sink our imaginations as 
 low as our habitations will shortly be ! 
 
 Among these confused relics of humanity, there are, 
 without doubt, persons of contrary interests and contra^ 
 dieting sentiments. But death, like some able Daysman, 
 has laid his hand on the contending parties, and brought 
 all their diiferences to an amicable conclusion. * Here 
 enemies, sworn enemies, dwell together in unity. They 
 drop every imbittered thought, and forget that they once 
 were foes. Perhaps their crumbling bones micV, as they 
 moulder : and those who, while they lived, stood aloof in 
 irreconcileable variance, here fall into mutual embraces, 
 and even incorporate with each other in the grave. O ! 
 that we might learn from these friendly ashes, not to 
 perpetuate the memory of injuries, not to foment the fever 
 of resentment) nor cherish the turbulence of passion ; that 
 there may be as little animosity and disagreement in the 
 land of the living, as there is in the congregation of the 
 
 * Hi motus emimorum, atque hcEC certmnina tanta, 
 Pulverii sxiguljactu compressa quiescunt. '^Yirg. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 17 
 
 dead ! But I suspend for a while such general observa- 
 tions;, and address myself to a more particular inquiry. 
 
 Yonder white stone, emblem of the innocence it covers, 
 informs the beholder of one who breathed out its tender 
 soul almost in the instant of receiving it. There, the 
 peaceful infant, without so much as knowing what labour 
 and vexation mean, " lies still and is quiet 3 it sleeps and 
 is at rest."* Staying only to wash away its native im- 
 purity in the laver of regeneration, it bid a speedy adieu 
 to time and terrestrial things. ^Vhat did the little hasty 
 sojourner find so forbidding and disgustful in our upper 
 world, to occasion its precipitate exit ? 'Tis written, in- 
 deed, of its suffering Saviour, that when he had tasted the 
 vinegar mingled with gall, he would not drink. f And did 
 our new-come stranger begin to sip the cup of life 3 but, 
 perceiving the bitterness, turn away its head, and refuse 
 the draught? Was this the cause, why the wary babe 
 only opened its eyes ; just looked on the light ; and then 
 withdrew into the more inviting regions of undisturbed 
 repose ? 
 
 Happy voyager ! no sooner launched, than arrived at the 
 haven ! % But more eminently happy they, who have passed 
 the waves, and weathered all the storms of a troublesome 
 and dangerous world ! who, "^ through many tribulations, 
 have entered into the kingdom of heaven 3" and thereby 
 brought honour to their divine Convoy, administered com- 
 foft to the companions of their toil, and left an instructive 
 example to succeeding pilgrims. 
 
 Highly faV'Oured probationer ! accepted, without being 
 exercised ! It was thy peculiar privilege, not to feel the 
 
 * Job, iii. 13. t Matt. xx\'ii. 34. 
 
 X Happy the babe, who, privileged by fate 
 
 To shorter labour and a lighter weight. 
 
 Received but yesterday the gift of breath, 
 
 Order'd to-morrow to return to Death. 
 
 Prior's Sol. 
 
IS MEDITATIONS^ 
 
 slightest of those evils which oppress thy surviving kindred ; 
 which frequently fetch groans from the most manly forti- 
 tude or most elevated faith. The arrows of calamity, 
 barbed with anguish, are often fixed deep in our choicest 
 comforts. The fiery darts of temptation, shot from the 
 hand of hell, are always flying in showers around our in- 
 tegrity. To thee, sweet babe, both these distresses and 
 dangers were alike unknown. 
 
 Consider this, ye mourning parents, and dry up your 
 tears. Why should you lament that your little ones are 
 crowned with victory, before the sword is drawn or the 
 conflict begun ? Perhaps, the Supreme Disposer of events 
 foresaw some ine\atable snare of temptation forming, or 
 some di'eadful storm of adversity impending. And why 
 should you be so dissatisfied with that hind precautiony 
 which housed your pleasant plant, and removed into shelter 
 a tender flower, before the thunders roared j before the 
 lightnings flew ; before the tempest poured its rage ? O 
 remember ! they are not lost, but tahen away from the evil 
 to come.* 
 
 At the same time, let survivors, doomed to bear the heat 
 and burden of the day, for their encouragement reflect, that 
 it is more honourable to have entered the lists, and to 
 have fought the good fight, before they come off con- 
 querors. They who have borne the cross, and submitted 
 to afflictive providences, with a cheerful resignation ; have 
 girded up the loins of their mind, and performed their Ma- 
 ster's will, with an honest and persevering fidelity 3 these, 
 having glorified their Redeemer on earth, will, probably, be 
 as stars of the first magnitude in heaven. They will shine 
 with brighter beams, be replenished with stronger joys, 
 in their Lord's everlasting kingdom. 
 
 Here lies the grief of a fond mother, and the blasted 
 expectation of an indulgent father. The youth grew up, 
 
 * Isa. Mi. U 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 19 
 
 like a well-watered plant ; he shot deep, rose high, and bid 
 fair for manhood. Bnt just as the cedar began to tower, 
 and promised, ere long, to be the pride of the wood, and 
 prince among the neighbouring trees — behold ! the a^e 
 is laid unto the root 3 the fatal blow struck 3 and all its 
 branching honours tumbled to the dust. And did he fall 
 alone ? No, tlie hopes of his father that begat him, and 
 the pleasing prospects of her that bare him, fell, and were 
 crushed together with him. 
 
 Doubtless, it would have pierced one's heart, to have 
 beheld the tender parents following the breathless youth 
 to his long home. Perhaps, drowned in tears, and all 
 overwhelmed with sorrows, they stood, like weeping statues^ 
 on this very spot. Methinks, I see the deeply distressed 
 mourners attending the sad solemnity. How they v^Ting 
 their hands, and pour floods from their eyes ! Is it fancy? 
 or do I really hear the passionate mother, in an agony of 
 affliction, taking her final leave of the darling of her soul ? 
 Dumb she remained, while the awful obsequies were per- 
 forming 3 dumb with grief, and leaning upon the partner 
 of her woes. But now the inward anguish struggles for 
 vent J it grows too big to be repressed. She advances to 
 the brink of the grave. All her soul is in her eyes. She 
 fastens one more look upon the dear doleful object, before 
 the pit shuts its mouth upon him. And as she looks^ 
 she cries, in broken accents, interrupted by many a rising 
 sob, she cries — '^ Farewell, my son ! my son ! my only 
 beloved ! would to God I had died for thee ! Farewell, 
 my child 3 and farewell all my earthly happiness ! I shall 
 never more see good, in the land of the living. Attempt 
 not to comfort me. I will go mourning, all my days, till 
 my gray hairs come down, with sorrow, to the grave !" 
 
 From this affecting representation, let parents be con- 
 nnced, how highly it concerns them to cultivate the morals, 
 and secure the immortal interests of their children. If you 
 
 c2 
 
20 MEDITATIONS 
 
 really love the offspring of your own bodies -, if your 
 bowels yearn over tliose amiable pledges of conjugal 
 endearment j spare no pains, give all diligence, I entreat 
 you, to ^' bring them up in the nurture and admonition of 
 the Lord :" then, may you have joy in their life, or con- 
 solation in their death. If their span is prolonged^ their 
 unblameable and useful conduct will be the staff of your 
 age, and a balm for declining nature. Or, if the number 
 of their years be cut off in the midst, you may commit 
 their remains to the dust with much the same comfortable 
 expectations as you send the survivors to places of genteel 
 education. You may commit them to the dust with cheer- 
 ing hopes of receiving them again to your arms ine^pressi- 
 hly improved in every noble and endearing accomplishment. 
 'Tis certainly a severe trial, and much more afflictive 
 than I am able to imagine, to resign a lovely blooming 
 creature, sprung from your own loins, to the gloomy re- 
 cesses of corruption. Thus to resign him, after having been 
 long dandled upon your knees, united to your affections by 
 a thousand ties of tenderness, and now become both the 
 delight of your eyes and the support of your family ! to 
 have such a one torn from your bosom, and thrown into 
 darkness ; doubtless, it must be like a dagger in your 
 hearts. But O ! how much more cutting to you, and 
 confounding to the child, to have the soul separated from 
 God J and, for shameful ignorance or early impiety, trans- 
 mitted to places of eternal torment ! How would it aggra- 
 vate your distress, and add a distracting emphasis to all 
 vour sighs, if you should follow the pale corpse with these 
 bitter reflections ! '' This dear creature, though long ago 
 capable of knowing good from evil, is gone out of the 
 world before it had learned the great design of coming into 
 it. A short-lived momentary existence it received from 
 me J but no good instructions, no holy admonitions, nothing 
 to further its well-being in that everlasting state upon 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 21 
 
 %vliich it is now entered. The poor body is consigned to 
 the coffin^ and carried out to consume away in the cold 
 and silent grave. And what reason have I to suppose 
 that the precious soul is in a better condition ? May I not 
 justly fear^ that, sentenced by the righteous Judge, it is 
 going, or gone away, into the pains of endless punishment ? 
 Perhaps, while I am bewailing its untimely departure, it 
 may be cursing, in outer darkness, that ever to be de- 
 plored, that most calamitous day, when it was born of such 
 a careless ungodly parent as I have been." 
 
 Nothing, I think, but the gna wings of that worm which 
 never dies can equal the anguish of these self-condemnintj 
 thoughts. The tortures of a rack must be an easy suffer- 
 ing, compared with the stings and horrors of such a re- 
 morse. How earnestly do I wish, that as many as are 
 intrusted with the management of children, would take 
 timely care to prevent these scourges of conscience ; by 
 endeavouring to conduct tlieir minds into an early know- 
 ledge of Christ, and a cordial love of his truth ! 
 
 On this hand is lodged one, whose sepulchral stone tells 
 -a most pitiable tale indeed! Well may the little images, 
 reclined over the sleeping ashes, hang down their heads 
 with that pensive air ! None can consider so mournful a 
 story, without feeling some touches of sympathizing con- 
 cern. His age twenty-eight ; his death sudden ; himself 
 cut down in the prime of life, amidst all the vivacity and 
 vigour of manhood ; while, '' his breasts were full of milk, 
 and his bones moistened with marrow." Probably he en- 
 tertained no apprehensions of the evil hour. And indeed 
 who could have suspected, that so bright a sun should go 
 down at noon ? To human appearance, his hill stood 
 strong. Length of days seemed written in his sanguine 
 countenance. He solaced himself with the prospect of a 
 long, long series of earthly satisfactions. When lo ! an 
 unexpected stroke descends ! descends from that mighty 
 arm, which *' overturneth the mountains by their roots ; 
 
22 MEDITATIONS 
 
 and crushes the imaginary hero^ before the ?}wf/i,'** as 
 quickly, and more easily, than our fingers press such a feeble 
 fluttering insect to death. 
 
 Perhaps, the futptiai Jot/s ^,\eve eM he thought on. "Were 
 not such the breathings of his enamoured soul ! " Yet a 
 very little while, and I shall possess the utmost of my 
 wishes. I shall call my charmer mine; and, in her, en- 
 joy whatever mv heart can crave."' In the midst of such 
 enchanting views, had some faithful friend but softly re- 
 minded him of an opening grave, and the end of all things ; 
 how tinseasonable would he have reckoned the admonition ! 
 Yet, though all warm with life, and rich in \-isionan,- bliss, 
 he was even then tottering upon the brink of both. 
 Dreadful vicissitude ! to have the bridal festivity- turned 
 into the funeral solemnity ! f Deplorable misfortune ! to 
 be shipwrecked in the ver}- haven ! and to perish even in 
 sight of happiness ! "V^Tiat a memorable proof is here 
 of the frailty of man, in his best estate ! Look, O ! look 
 
 * Job, iv. 19. mv UaV — ^<^ instar, ad modum, tinea. I retain 
 this iuterpretation, both as it is most suitable to my purpose, and as 
 it is patronized by some eminent commentators ; especially the cele- 
 brated Schultem. Though I cannot but give the preference to the 
 opinion of a judicious friend, who would render the passage more 
 Kterally, be/ore the face of a moth : making it to represent a creature 
 so exceedingly frail, that even a moth, flying against it, may dash 
 it to pieces ; wliich, besides its closer correspondeuce T\-ith the 
 exact import of the Hebrew, presents us mth a much finer image of 
 the most extreme imbecility. For it certainly implies a far greater 
 degree of weakness, to be crushed by the feeble flutter of the feeblest 
 creature, than only to be crushed as easily as that creature by the 
 hand of man. The French version is very expressive and beautiful — 
 a la rencontre d'un vermisseau. 
 
 ■\- A distress of this kind is painted in ven- affecting colours by 
 Pliny, in an epistle to MarcelUnus : trhte plane acerbumque fuinis ! 
 O morte ipsa mortis tempits itidignim ! jam destinata erat egregio 
 juveni ; Jam electus nuptiarum dies ; jam nos advocati. Quod gaudiutn 
 quo mosrore mutatum est! Non possum exprimere verbis, quantum 
 animo vulnus acceperim, quum audivi Fundanum ipsum (ut multa luc- 
 tuosa dolor invenit) prcEcipAentem, quod in vestes, margaritas, gemmaSy 
 fuerat erogaturm, hoc in thura, et unguenta, et adores impendei-etur. 
 Plin. lib. V, epist. 26. 
 
AMOXG THE TOMBS. 23 
 
 on this monument, ye gay and careless ! Attend to this 
 date 3 and boast no more of to-morrow ! 
 
 AAlio can tell, but the hride-malds, girded with gladness, 
 had prepared the marriage-bed ? had decked it with the 
 richest covers, and dressed it in pillows of down ? AMien 
 —oh ! trust not in youth, or strength, or in any thing 
 mortal ; for there is nothing certain, nothing to be de- 
 pended on, beneath the unchangeable God — Death, relent- 
 less Death, is making him another kind of bed in the 
 dust of the earth. Unto this he must be conveyed, not 
 vAih a splendid procession of joyous attendants ; but 
 stretched in the gloomy hearse, and followed by a train of 
 mourners. On this he must take up a lonely lodging, nor 
 ever be released, '*^till the heavens are no more." In vain 
 does the consenting fair-one put on her ornaments, and 
 expect her spouse. Did she not, like Sisera's mother, look 
 out of the lattice ; chide the delays of her beloved ; and 
 wonder '^ why his chariot was so long in coming r" little 
 thinking, that the intended bridegroom had for ever done 
 with transitoiy tilings ! that now everlasting cares employ 
 his mind, without one single remembrance of his lovely 
 Lucinda ! Go^ disappointed virgin ! go^ mourn the uncer- 
 tainty of all created bliss ! Teach thy soul to aspire after 
 a sure and immiitahle felicity ! For the once gay and 
 gallant Fidelio sleeps in other embraces 3 even in the icy 
 arms of Death ! forgetful, eternally forgetful, of the world, 
 and thee ! 
 
 Hitherto, one is tempted to exclaim against the king of 
 terrors, and call him capriciously cruel. He seems, by be- 
 ginning at the wrong end of the register, to have inverted 
 the laws of nature. Passing over the couch of decrepit 
 age, he has nipped infancy in its bud ; blasted youth in its 
 bloom ; and torn up manhood in its full maturity. Terrible 
 indeed are these providences, yet not unsearchable the 
 counsels: — 
 
24 MEDITATIONS 
 
 For us they sicken, and for us they die.* 
 
 Such strokes must not only grieve the relatives^ but 
 surprise the whole neighbourhood. They sound a powerful 
 alarm to heedless dreaming mortals, and are intended as 
 a remedy for our carnal security. Such passing-bells in- 
 culcate loudly our Lord's admonition : "^ Take ye heed, 
 watch, and pray 3 for ye know not when the time is." 
 We nod, like intoxicated creatures, upon the very verge of 
 fl, tremendous precipice. These astonishing dispensations 
 are the kind messengers of Heaven, to rouse us from our 
 supineness, . and quicken us into timely circumspection. I 
 need not, surely, accommodate them with language, nor act 
 as their interpreter. Let every one's conscience be awake, 
 and this will appear their awful meaning : ^*^ O ! ye sons 
 of men, in the midst of life you are in death. No state, 
 no circumstances, can ascertain your preservation a single 
 moment. So strong is the tyrant's arm, that nothing can 
 resist its force j so true his aim, that nothing can elude 
 the blow. Sudden, as lightning, sometimes, is his arrow 
 launched ; and wounds, and kills, in the twinkling of an 
 eye. Never promise yourselves safety in any expedient 
 but constant preparation. The fatal shafts fly so promis- 
 cuously, that none can guess the next victim. Thei'efore, 
 he ye always ready : for in such an hour as ye think not, the 
 final summons cometh." 
 
 Be ye always ready : for in such an hour as ye think not 
 — Important admonition ! Methinks, it reverberates from 
 sepulchre to sepulchre -, and addresses me with line upon 
 line, precept upon precept. The reiterated warning, I 
 acknowledge, is too needful 3 may cooperating grace render 
 it effectual ! The momentous truth, though worthy to be 
 engraved on the tables of a most tenacious memory, is but 
 
 * Night Thought*. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 25 
 
 slightly sketched on the transient flow of passion. We see 
 our neighbours fall ; we turn pale at the shock j and feel^ 
 perhaps, a trembling dread. No sooner are they removed 
 from our sight j but, driven in the whirl of business, or 
 lulled in the languors of pleasure, we forget the provi- 
 dence, and neglect its errand. The impression made on 
 our unstable minds is like the trace of an arrow through the 
 penetrated air, or the path of a keel in the furrowed wave. 
 Strange stupidity ! To cure it, another monitor bespeaks 
 me from a neighbouring stone. It contains the narrative 
 of an unhappy mortal, snatched from his friends, . and 
 hurried to the awful bar, without leisure, either to take a 
 last farewell of the one, or to put up so much as a single 
 prayer preparatory for the other : killed, according to the 
 usual expression, by a sudden stroke of casualty. 
 
 Was it then a random stroke ? Doubtless, the blow 
 came from an aiming, though invisible hand. God pre- 
 sideth over the armies of heaven ; God ruleth among the 
 inhabitants of the earthy and God conducteth what men 
 call Chance. Nothing, nothing comes to pass through 
 a blind and undiscerning fatality. If accidents happen, 
 they happen according to the exact foreknowledge, and 
 conformably to the determinate counsels of Eternal Wis- 
 dom. The Lord, with whom are the issues of death, signs 
 the ivarrant, and gi^es the high commission. The seem- 
 ingly fortuitous disaster is only the agent or the instrument 
 appointed to execute the supreme decree. When the king 
 of Israel was mortally wounded, it seemed to be a casual 
 shot. A certain man drew a how at a venture. "^ — At a 
 venture, as he thought. But his hand was strengthened 
 by an omnipotent aid, and the shaft levelled by an un- 
 erring eye. So that, what we term casualty, is really 
 •providence j accomplishing deliberate designs, but conceal- 
 
 * 1 Kings, xxii. 34. 
 
26 MEDITATIONS 
 
 ing its own interposition. How comforting this reflection ! 
 admirably adapted to soothe the throbbing anguish of the 
 mourners, and compose their spirits into a quiet submis- 
 sion ! excellently suited to dissipate the fears of godly 
 survivors, and create a calm intrepidity even amidst in- 
 numerable perils ! 
 
 How thin is the partition between this world and another ! 
 How short the transition from time to eternity ! The par- 
 tition^ nothing more than the breath in our nostrils ; and 
 the transition may be made in the twinkling of an eye. 
 Poor Chremylus, I remember, arose from the diversion of 
 a card-table, and dropped into the dwellings of darkness. 
 One night, Corinna was all gaiety in her spirits, all finery 
 in her apparel, at a magnificent ball. The next night, she 
 lay pale and stiff, an extended corpse, and ready to be 
 mingled with the mouldering dead. Young Atticus lived to 
 see his ample and commodious seat completed : but not to 
 spend one joyous hour under the stately roof. The sashes 
 were hung to admit the dayj but the master's eyes are 
 closed in endless night. The apartments were furnished 
 to invite society or administer repose ; but their lord rests 
 in the lower parts of the earth, in the solitary, silent cham- 
 bers of the tomb. The gardens were planned, and a thou* 
 sand elegant decorations designed ; but alas ! their intended 
 possessor is gone down to '^the place of skulls 5" is gone 
 down to the valley of the shadow of death. 
 
 While I am recollecting, many, I question not, are ex- 
 periencing the same tragical vicissitude. The eyes of that 
 sublime Being, who sits upon the circle of the earth, and 
 views all its inhabitants with one comprehensive glance, 
 even now beholds many tents in alGfliction — such affliction, 
 as overwhelmed the Egyptians in that fatal night, when 
 the destroying angel sheathed his arrows in all the pride of 
 their strength : — some, sinking to the floor from their easy 
 ichairy and deaf even amidst the piercing shrieks of their 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 27 
 
 distracted relations: — some giving up the ghost, as they 
 sit retired, or lie reclined under the shady arbour, to taste 
 the sweets of the flowery scene : — some, as they sail, asso- 
 ciated with a party of pleasure , along the dancing stream, 
 and through the laughing meads. Nor is the grim intruder 
 mollified, though wine and music flow around: — some m- 
 tercepted, as they are returning home 3 and some inter- 
 rupted^ as they enter upon an important negociation : — 
 some arrested, with the gain of injustice in their hands j and 
 some surprised, in the very act of lewdness, or the attempt 
 of cruelty. 
 
 Legions, legions of disasters, such as no prudence can 
 foresee, and no care prevent, lie in wait to accomplish our 
 doom. A starting- horse may throw his rider ; may at once 
 dash his body against the stones, and fling his soul into 
 the invisible world. A stack of chimneys may tumble into 
 the street, and crush the unwary passenger under the ruins. 
 Even a single tile, dropping from the roof, may be as fatal 
 as the fall of the whole structure. So frail, so very atte- 
 nuated is the thread of life, that it not only bursts before 
 the storm, but breaks even at a breeze. The most common 
 occurrences, those from which we suspect not the least 
 harm, may prove the weapons of our destruction. A grape- 
 stone, a despicable fly, may be more mortal than Goliath, 
 with all his formidable armour. Nay, if God give com- 
 mand, our very comforts become killing. The air we 
 breathe is our bane ; and the food we eat the vehicle of 
 death. That last enemy has unnumbered avenues for his 
 approach 3 yea, lies intrenched in our very bosom, and 
 holds his fortress in the seat of our life. The crimson 
 fluid, which distributes health, is impregnated with the seeds 
 of death. Heat may inflame it, or toil oppress it ; and 
 make it destroy the parts it was designed to cherish. 
 Some unseen impediment may obstruct its passage, or some 
 unknown violence may divert its course ; in either of which 
 
28 MEDITATIONS 
 
 caseSj it acts the part of a poisonous draiiglit or a deadly 
 
 stab. 
 
 Ah ! in what perils is vain life engaged ! 
 What slight neglects, what trivial faults destroy 
 The hardiest frame ! Of indolence, of toil 
 We die ; of want, of superfluity. 
 The all-surrounding heaven, the vital air. 
 Is big with death. 
 
 Since then we are so liable to be dispossessed of this 
 earthly tabernacle, let us look upon ourselves only as 
 tenants at ivill -, and hold ourselves in perpetual readiness^ 
 to depart at a moment's warning. Without such an habitual 
 readiness, we are like Avretches that sleep on the top of 
 •a mast^ while a horrid gulf yawns, or furious waves rage, 
 below. And where can be the peace, what the satisfaction, 
 of such a state ? Whereas, a prepared condition will in- 
 spire a cheerfulness of temper, not to be dismayed by any 
 alarming accident ; and create a firmness of mind, not to 
 be overthrown by the most threatening dangers. When 
 the city is fortified with walls, furnished with provision, 
 guarded by able and resolute troops -, what have the inha- 
 bitants to fear ? what may they not enjoy ? So, just so, or 
 rather by a much surer band, are connected the real taste 
 of life, and the constant thought of death. 
 
 I said. Our very comforts may become kilUng. — And see 
 the truth inscribed by the hand, sealed with the signet, 
 of fate. The marble, which graces yonder pillar, informs 
 me, that near it are deposited the remains of Sophrojila, 
 the much lamented Sophroma, who died in childbed. How 
 often does this calamity happen ! The branch shoots -, 
 but the stem withers. The babe springs to light ; but she 
 that bare him breathes her last. She gives life, but gives 
 it (O pitiable consideration !) at the expense of her own 3 
 and becomes, at once, a mother and a corpse. Or else, 
 perhaps, she expires in severe pangs, and is herself a tomb 
 for her infant 3 while the melancholy complaint of a mon- 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 29 
 
 rircli's woe is the epitaph for them both : The children are 
 come to the birth, and there is not strength to bring forth. * 
 Less to be lamented, in my opinion, this misfortune, than 
 the other. Better for the tender stranger to be stopped 
 in the porch ; than to enter, only to converse with affliction. 
 Better, to find a grave in the womb^ than to be exposed 
 on a hazardous world, without the guardian of its infantine 
 years, without the faithful guide of its youth. 
 
 This monument is distinguished by its finer materials 
 and more delicate appendages. It seems to have taken its 
 model from an affluent hand, directed by a generous heart j 
 which thought it could never do enough for the deceased. 
 It seems, also, to exhibit an emblematical picture of So- 
 phronias person and accomplishments. Is her beauty, or, 
 what is more than beauty, her white-robed innocence, re- 
 presented by the snouy colour ? the surface, smoothly po- 
 lished, like her amiable temper and engaging manners ? 
 the whole adorned, in a well-judged medium between ex- 
 travagant pomp and sordid negligence, like her undissem- 
 bled goodness, remote from the least ostentation, yet in 
 all points exemplary ? But ah ! how vain were all these 
 endearing charms ! How vain the lustre of thy sprightly 
 eye ! How vain the bloom of thy bridal youth ! How vain 
 the honours of thy superior birth ! How unable to secure 
 
 the lovely possessor from the savage violence of death ! 
 
 How ineffectual the universal esteem of thy acquaintance, 
 the fondness of thy transported husband, or even the spot- 
 less integrity of thy character, to prolong thy span, or 
 procure thee a short reprieve! — The concurrence of all 
 these circumstances reminds me of those beautiful and 
 tender lines : 
 
 How loved, how valued once, avails thee not ; 
 To whom related, or by whom begot ; 
 
 * Isa. xxxvii. 3. 
 
so MEDITATIONS 
 
 A heap of dust alone remains of thee : 
 
 'Tis all THOU art I — and all the proud shall be ! * 
 
 Pope's Miscelt. 
 
 Yet, though unable to divert the stroke, Christianity is 
 sovereign to pluck out the sting of death. Is not this the 
 
 * These verses are inscribed on a small but elegant monument, 
 lately erected in the great church at Northampton, which, in the 
 MeroglypMcal decorations, corresponds with the description intro- 
 duced above ; in this circumstance particularly, that it is dedicated 
 to the memory of an amiable woman, Mrs. Anne Stonhouse, the 
 excellent wife of my worthy friend Dr. Stonhouse, who has seen all 
 the powers of that healing art, to which I and so many others have 
 been greatly indebted, failing in their attempts to preserve a life 
 4earer to him than his own. 
 
 Nee prosimt Domino, quce prosunt omnibus artes. 
 
 No longer his all-healing art avails ; 
 But every remedy its master fails. 
 
 In the midst of this tender distress, he has sought some kind of con- 
 solation, even from the sepulchral marble, by teaching it to speak, 
 at once, his esteem for her memory, and his veneration for that re- 
 ligion Avhich she so eminently adorned. Nor could this be more 
 significantly done, than by summing up her character in that con- 
 cise but comprehensive sentence, — A sincere Christian: concise 
 enough to be the motto for a mourning ring; yet as comprehensive 
 as the most enlarged sphere of personal, social, and religious worth. 
 For, whatsoever things are pure ; whatsoever things are lovely ; what- 
 soever things are of good report; are they not all included in that 
 grand and noble aggregate, a sincere Christian ? 
 
 The first lines, considered in such a connection, are wonderfully 
 plaintive and pathetic : 
 
 How loved, how valued once, avails thee not ; 
 To whom related, or by whom begot. 
 
 They sound, at least in my ears, like the voice of sorrow, mingled 
 with admiration. The speaker seems to have been lost, for a while, 
 in melancholy contemplation ; suddenly breaks out into this abrupt 
 encomium; then melts into tears, and can proceed no farther. Yet, 
 in this case, how eloquent is silence ! While it hints the universal 
 esteem which attended, and the superiority of birth which distin- 
 guished, the deceased icife; it expresses, beyond all the pomp of 
 words, the yearning affection, and heart-felt affliction, of the sur- 
 viving husband. Amidst the group of monumental marbles which are 
 lavish of their panegyric^ this, I think, resembles the incomparable 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 31 
 
 silenf language of those lamps, which burn, and of that 
 hearty which flames 3 of those pahns, which flourish, and of 
 that crown, which glitters, in the well-imitated and gilded 
 marble r Do they not, to the discerning eye, describe the 
 vigilance of her faith 3 the fervency of her devotion j her 
 victory over the world j and the celestial diadem, which the 
 Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give her at that day ? * 
 
 address of the painter, who, having placed round a beautiful expiring 
 virgin her friends in all the agonies of grief, represented the unequalled 
 anguish of the father with far greater liveliness and strength, or rather 
 with an inexpressible emphasis, by draAving a veil over his face. 
 
 If the last lines are a wide departure from the beaten track of our 
 modern epitaphs, and the very reverse of their high-flo^vn compli- 
 ments, 
 
 A heap of dust alone remains of thee ! 
 
 'Tis all THOU art, and all the proud shall be ! 
 
 they are not without a precedent, and one of the most consummate 
 kind ; since they breathe the very spirit of that sacred elegy, in which 
 all the heart of the hero and the friend seems to be dissolved : How 
 are the ^nighty fallen, and the veapons oficar perished! 2 Sam. i. 2/ . 
 They remind the reader of that a^vful lesson, which was originally 
 dictated by the Supreme Wisdom : Dust thou art, and unto dust thou 
 Shalt return. Gen. iii. 19. They inculcate, with all the force of the 
 most convincing evidence, that solemn admonition, delivered by the 
 prophet: Cease ye from man, ivhose breath is in his nostrils ; for 
 wherein is he to be accounted of I Isa. ii. 22. 
 
 That no reader, however inattentive, might mistake the sense and 
 design of this part of \\\^ fourth line, 
 
 ^Tis ALL thou art ! — 
 
 it is guarded above and beneath. Above, is an expanded book, that 
 seems to be waved, with an air of triumph, over the emblem of death ; 
 which we cannot but suppose to be the volume of inspiration, as it 
 exhibits a sort of abridgement of its whole contents, in those ani- 
 mated words : Be ye not slothful, but followers of them ivho through 
 faith and patience inherit the pro)nises, Heb. vi. 12. Beneath, that 
 eveiy part might be pregnant with instruction, are those striking 
 reflections, worthy the consideration of the highest proficient in know- 
 ledge and piety, yet obvious to the understanding of the most w«- 
 taught reader : Life, hoio short ! eternity, how long / May my soul 
 learn the forcible purport of this short lesson, in her contracted span 
 of time ! and all eternity will not be too long to rejoice in having 
 learned it. 
 
 » 2 Tim. iv. 8. 
 
3^ MEDITATIONS 
 
 How happy the liusband, in such a sharer of his bed^ and 
 partner of his fortunes? Their inclinations were nicely- 
 tuned unhon, and all their conversation was harmony. 
 How silken the yoke to such a pair, and what blessings 
 were twisted with such bands ! every joy was heightened, 
 and every care alleviated. Nothing seemed wanting to 
 consummate their bliss, but a hopeful progeny rising around 
 them J that they might see themselves multiplied in their 
 little ones j see their mingled graces transfused into their 
 offspring ; and feel the glow of their affection augmented, 
 by being refected from their children. ''^ Grant us this gift," 
 said their united prayers, "'and our satisfactions are crown- 
 ed : we request no more." 
 
 Alas ! how blind are mortals to future events ! How 
 unable to discern what is really good ! - Give me children, 
 said Rachel, or else J die: | an ardour of impatience alto- 
 gether unbecoming, and as mistaken as it was unbecoming. 
 She dies, not by the dimppdintment , but by the accomplish- 
 ment, of her desire. If children are to parents like a flowery 
 chaplet, whose beauties blossom with ornament, and whose 
 odours breathe delight 3 death, or some fell misfortune, may 
 find means to entwine themselves with the lovely wreath. 
 Whenever our souls are poured out, with passionate im- 
 portunity, after any inferior acquisition, it may be truly 
 said, in the words of our Divine Master, Ye know not what 
 ye ask. Does Providence withhold the thing that we long' 
 for ? It denies in mercy ; and only withholds the occasion 
 of our misery, perhaps the instrument of our ruin. With 
 a sickly appetite, we often loathe what is wholesome, and 
 hanker after our bane. Where imaoination dreams of un- 
 
 * Nescia mens hominum fatiy sortisque futura ! 
 Turno tempus erit, magno cum optaverit emptum 
 Intactum Pallanta; et cum spolia ista diemque 
 Oder it. ViRGiL. 
 
 f Gen, XXX. 1. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. ^83 
 
 mingled sweets, there Ccvperience frequently finds the bitter- 
 ness of woe. 
 
 Therefore, may we covet immoderately neither this nor 
 that form of earthly felicity ; but refer the whole of our 
 condition to the choice of unerring ^Visdom. May we learn 
 to renounce our own will, and be ready to make a sacri- 
 fice of our warmest wishes, whenever they run counter to 
 the good pleasure of God. For, indeed, as to obey his 
 laws, is to be perfectly free ; so, to resign ourselves to 
 liis disposal, is to establish our ovvn happiness, and to be 
 secure from fear of e\nl. 
 
 Here, a small and plain stone is placed upon the ground j 
 purchased, one would imagine, from the little fund, and 
 formed by the hand of frugality itself. Nothing costly: 
 not one decoration added j only a very short inscription ; 
 and that so effaced, as to be scarcely intelligible. Was the 
 depositary unfaithful to its trust ? or were the letters worn 
 by the frequent resort of the surviving family to mourn 
 over the grave of a most valuable and beloved relative ? 
 For I perceive, upon a closer inspection, that it covers the 
 remains of a father ; a religious father, snatched from his 
 growing offspring before they were settled in the world, 
 or so much as their principles fixed by a thorough edu- 
 cation. 
 
 This, sure, is the most complicated distress that has 
 hitherto come under our consideration. The solemnities of 
 such a dying chamber, are some of the most melting and 
 melancholy scenes imaginable. There lies the affectionate 
 husband ; the indulgent parent 3 the faithful friend ; and. 
 the generous master. He lies in the last extremities, and 
 on the very point of dissolution. Art has done its all. 
 The raging disease mocks the power of medicine. It 
 hastens, with resistless impetuosity, to execute its dreadful 
 errand 5 to rend asunder the silver cord of life, and the 
 more delicate tie of social attachment and conjugal af- 
 fection. 
 
34 MEDITATIONS 
 
 A servant or tvvo^ from a revering distance, east many a 
 wishful look, and condole their honoured master in the 
 language of sighs. The condescending mildness of his com- 
 mands was wont to produce an alacrity of obedience;, and 
 render their service a pleasure. The remembrance of both 
 imbitters their grief, and makes it trickle plentifully down 
 their honest cheeks. W\^ friends, \n\\o have so often shared 
 his joys, and gladdened his mind with their enlivening 
 converse, now are miserable comforters. A sympathizing 
 and mournful pity is all the relief they are able to con- 
 tribute 'j unless it be augmented by their silent prayers for 
 the divine succour, and a word of consolation suggested 
 from the Scriptures.* Those poor innocents, the children , 
 crowd around the bed ', drowned in tears, and almost fran- 
 tic with grief, they sob out their little souls, and pas- 
 sionately cry, " Will he leave us ? leave us in a helpless 
 condition ! leave us to an injurious world !" 
 
 These separate streams are all united in the distressed 
 spouse, and overwhelm her breast with an impetuous tide 
 of sorrows. In her, the lover weeps ; the wife mourns j 
 and all the mother yearns. To her the loss is beyond mea- 
 sure aggravated, by months and years of delightful so- 
 ciety, and exalted friendship. Where, alas ! can she meet 
 with such unsuspected fidelity, or repose such unreserved 
 confidence ? Where find so discreet a counsellor ; so im- 
 proving an example -, and a guardian so sedulously atten- 
 tive to the interests of herself and her children ? See ! 
 how she hangs over the languishing bedj most tenderly 
 •solicitous to prolong a life, important and desirable far 
 beyond her own. Or, if that be impracticable, no less ten- 
 
 * Texts of Scripture, proper for such an occasion ; containing pro- 
 mises — of support vmder affliction. Lam. iii. 32. Heb. xii. 6. 2 Cor, 
 iv. 17. — of pardon, Isa. liii. 5. Isa. \. 18. 1 John, ii. 1,2. Acts, x. 
 43. — of justification, Rom. v. 9. Rom. viii. 33, 34. 2 Cor. v. 21. — of 
 victory over death, Psal. xxiii. 4. Psal. Ixxiii. 26. 1 Cor. xv. 56, 
 57. — of a happy resurrection, JoJm^ vi. 40. 2 Cor. v. 1. Rev. vii. 
 16, 17. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 35 
 
 derly ofl&cious to soothe the last agonies of her dearer self. 
 Her hands, trembling under direful apprehensions, v/ipe 
 the cold deu s from the livid cheeks ; and sometimes stay 
 the sinking head on her gentle arms, sometimes rest it on. 
 her compassionate bosom. See ! how she gazes, with a 
 speechless ardour, on the pale countenance and meagre 
 features. Speechless her tongue j but she looks unutterable 
 things j while all her soft passions throb with unavailing 
 fondness, and her very soul bleeds with exquisite anguish. 
 
 The sufferer, all patient and adoring, submits to the di- 
 vine will 3 and, by submission, becomes superior to his 
 affliction. He is sensibly touched with the disconsolate 
 Btate of his attendants, and pierced with an anxious con- 
 cern for his wife and his children : his wife, who will soon 
 be a destitute widow ; his children, who will soon be help' 
 less orphans. " Yet, though cast down, not in despair." He 
 is greatly refreshed by his trust in the everlasting cove- 
 nant, and his hope of approaching glory. Religion gives 
 a dignity to distress. At each interval of ease, he com- 
 forts his ver)^ comforters 3 and suffers with all the majesty 
 of woe. 
 
 The soul, just going to abandon the tottering clay, col- 
 lects all her force, and exerts her last efforts. The STOod 
 man raises himself on his pillow ; extends a kind hand to 
 his servants, which is bathed in tears ; takes an affecting 
 farewell of his friends ; clasps his wife in a feeble embrace j 
 kisses the dear pledges of their mutual love j and then 
 pours all that remains of life and of strength, in the fol- 
 lowing words: — '' \ die, my dear children; but God, the 
 everlasting God, will be with you. Though you lose an 
 earthly parent, you have a Father in heaven, who lives for 
 evermore. Nothing, nothing but an unbelieving heart and 
 irreligious life can ever separate you from the regards of 
 his providence — from the endearments of his love." 
 
 He could proceed no farther. His heart was full, but 
 
 D 2 
 
36 MEDITATIONS 
 
 utterance failed. After a sliort pause^ with difficulty, great 
 difficulty, lie added : " You, the dear partner of my soul, 
 you are now the only protector of our orphans. I leave 
 you under a weight of cares. But God, who defendeth the 
 cause of the widow — God, whose promise is faithfulness 
 and truth — God hath said, I will never leave thee, nor for- 
 sake tliee."^ This revives my drooping spirits — let this 
 support the wife of my bosom — and now, O Father of 
 Compassions, into thy hands I commend my spirit — en- 
 couraged by thy promised goodness, / leave my father- 
 less — " 
 
 Here he fainted 5 fell back upon the bed 5 and lay for 
 some minutes bereft of his senses. As a taper, upon the 
 very point of extinction, is sometimes suddenly rekindled, 
 and leaps into a quivering flame ; so life, before it totally 
 expired, gave a parting struggle, and once more looked 
 abroad from the opening eye-lids. He would fain have 
 spoke; fain have uttered the sentence he began. More 
 than once he essayed : but the organs of speech were be- 
 come like a broken vessel 3 and nothing but the obstructing 
 phlegm rattled in his throat. His aspect, however, spohe 
 affection inexpressible. With all the father, all the hus- 
 . band still living in his looks, he takes one more view of 
 those dear children, whom he had often beheld with a pa- 
 rental triumph. He turns his dying eyes on that beloved 
 ivoman, whom he never beheld but with a glow of delight. 
 Fixed in this posture, amidst smiles of love, and under a 
 gleam of heaven, they shine out their last. 
 
 Upon this, the silent sorrow bursts into loud laments. 
 They weep, and refuse to be comforted 3 till some length of 
 time had given vent to the excess of passion, and the con- 
 solations of religion had stanched- their bleeding w^oes. 
 Then the afflicted family search for the sentence, which fell 
 
 * Heb. xiii. 5. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 37 
 
 unfinished from those loved, those venerable and pious lips. 
 They find it recorded by the prophet Jeremiah, containing 
 the direction of Infinite Wisdom, and the promise of un- 
 bounded Goodness: Leave thy fatherless children; I will 
 preserve them alive ; and let thy widows trust in mef^. This, 
 now, is the comfort of their life, and the joy of their heart. 
 They treasure it up in their memories. It is the best of 
 legacies, and an inexhaustible fund j a fund which will 
 supply all their wants, by entailing the blessing of Heaven 
 on all their honest labours. They are rich, they are happy, 
 in this sacred pledge of the divine favour. They fear no 
 evil} they want no good 3 because God is their portion, 
 and their guardian God. 
 
 No sooner turned from one memento of my own, and 
 memorial of another's decease, but a second, a third, a long 
 succession of these melancholy monitors crowd upon my 
 sight, f That which has fixed my observation, is one of a 
 more grave and sable aspect than the former. I suppose it 
 preserves the relics of a more aged person. One would 
 conjecture, that he made somewhat of a figure in his station 
 among the living ; as his monument does among the funeral 
 marbles. Let me draw near, and inquire of the stone, 
 ' ivho, or whaty is beneath its surface.' I am informed, he 
 was once the owner of a considerable estate 3 which was 
 much improved by his own application and management : 
 that he left the world in the busy period of life, advanced 
 a little beyond the meridian. 
 
 Probably, replied my musing mind, one of those hide- 
 fatigable drudges, who rise early, late take rest, and eat 
 the bread of carefulness ; not to secure the loving-kindness 
 of the Lord J not to make provision for any reasonable 
 necessity 3 but only to amass together ten thousand times 
 
 * Jerem. xlix. 11. 
 
 f Plurima mortis imago. — Virg, 
 
38 MEDITATIONS 
 
 more than they can possibly use. Did he not lay schemes 
 for enlarging his fortune^ and aggrandizing his family ? Did 
 he not purpose to join field to field, and add house to 
 house 3 till his possessions were almost as vast as his de- 
 sires ? That, then, he would sit down, and enjoy what he 
 had acquired ; * breathe a while from his toilsome pursuit 
 of things temporal, and, perhaps, think a little of things 
 eternal. 
 
 But see the folly of worldly vAsdom I How silly, how 
 childish, is the sagacity of (what is called) manly and 
 masterly prudence j when it contrives more solicitously for 
 TIME than it provides for eternity ! How strangely in- 
 fatuated are those subtle heads, which weary themselves in 
 concerting measures for phantofns of a dai/ ; and scarce 
 bestow a thought on everlasting realities! When every 
 wheel moves on smoothly ; when all the well-disposed de- 
 signs are ripening apace for execution ; and the long-ex- 
 pected crisis of enjoyment seems to approach ; behold ! 
 God from on high laughs at the Babel-bullder. Death 
 touches the bubble, and it breaks, it drops into nothing. 
 The cobweb, most finely spun indeed, but more easily 
 dislodged, is swept away in an instant • and all the abor- 
 tive projects are buried in the same grave with their pro- 
 jector. So true is that verdict which the wisdom from 
 above passes on these successful unfortunates : '■' They walk 
 in a vain shadow, and disquiet themselves in vain."f 
 
 Speak, ye that attended such a one in his last minutes -, 
 ye that heard his e.rplrlng sentiments; did he not cry out, 
 in the language of disappointed sensuality, '' O death ! how 
 terrible is thy approach to a man immersed in secular 
 cares^ and void of all concern for the never-ending here" 
 
 * Hac mente lahorem 
 
 Seseferre, senes ut in otia tut a recedant, 
 Aiunt, cum sihi sint congesta cibaria. — Hor. 
 f Psal. xxxix. 6. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. SS- 
 
 after ! "V^Tiere, alas ! is the profit, where the comfort of 
 entering deep into the knowledge, and of being dexterous 
 in the despatch of earthly afi'airs j since I have all the while 
 neglected the one thing- needful ! Destructive mistake ! I 
 have been attentive to every inferior interest ; I have laid 
 myself out on the trifles of a moment ; but have disregarded 
 heaven; have forgot eternal ages! O! that my days" — 
 here, he was going on to breathe some fruitless wishes, or 
 to form 1 know not what ineffectual resolutions : but a 
 sudden convulsion shook his nerves ; disabled his tongue j 
 and, in less than an hour, dissolved his frame. 
 
 May the children of this world be warned by the d\-ing 
 words of an unhappy brother, and gather advantage from 
 his misfortune. VChx should they pant, with such impatient 
 ardour, after ichite and yellow earth ; as if the universe did 
 not afford sufficient for ever^^ one to take a little ? Wkj 
 should they lade themselves with thick clay, when they are 
 to '' run for an incorruptible crown, and press towards the 
 prize of their high calling r" AMiy should they overload 
 the vessel, in which their everlasting all is embarked ; or 
 fill their arms with superfukles, when they are to swim for 
 their lives? Yet, so preposterous is the conduct of those 
 persons, who are all industry to heap up an abundance of 
 the wealth which perisheth, but are scarce so much ^s faintly 
 desirous of being rich towards God. 
 
 O ! that we may walk, through all these glittering toys, 
 at least with a wise indifference, if not with a superior dis- 
 dain ! Having enough for the conveniences of life, let us 
 only accommodate ourselves with things below, and lay up 
 our treasures in the regions above. Whereas, if we in- 
 dulge an anxious concern, or lavish an inordinate care, on 
 any transitory possessions, we shall rivet them to our af- 
 fections with so firm an union, that the utmost severity of 
 pain must attend the separating stroke. By such an eager 
 attachment to what will certainly be ra\-ished from us, we 
 shall only insure to ourselves accumulated anguish against 
 
40 MEDITATIONS 
 
 the agonizing hour. We shall plants aforehand, our dying 
 pillow with thorns.* 
 
 Some, I perceive, arrived at threescore years and ten 
 before they made their exit ; nay, some few resigned not 
 their breath till they had numbered fourscore revolving 
 harvests. These, I would hope, '^ remembered their Creator 
 in the days of their youth j" before their strength became 
 labour and sorrow 3 before that low ebb of languishing 
 nature, when the keepers of the house tremble , and those that 
 look out of the imndoivs are darkened :\ when even the 
 lighting down of the grasshopper is a burden on the bending 
 shoulders ; and desire itself faiis in the listless, lethargic 
 soul ; — before those heavy hours come, and those tiresome 
 moments draw nigh, in which there is too much reason 
 to say, '^ we have no pleasure in them} no improvement 
 from them." 
 
 If their lamps were unfurnished with oil, how unfit must 
 they be, in such decrepit circumstances, to go to the mar^ 
 ket, and buy ! J For, besides a variety of disorders, arising 
 from the enfeebled constitution, their corruptions must be 
 surprisingly strengthened by such a long course of irreligion. 
 jEvil habits must have struck the deepest root ; must have 
 twisted themselves with every fibre of the heart ; and be as 
 thoroughly ingrained in the disposition, as the soot in the 
 ^Ethiopian's complexion, or the spots in the leopard's skin. 
 If such a one, under such disadvantages, surmounts all the 
 
 * Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ; 
 A broken reed at best, but oft a spear : 
 On its sharp point pea(Ce bleeds, and hope expires. 
 
 Night Thoughts, N'>. III. 
 f Eccles. xii. 3, 5. I need not remind my reader, that by tlie 
 former of these figurative expressions, is signified the enervated state 
 of the hands and arms; by the latter, the dimness of the eyes, or 
 the total loss of sight: that, taken in connection with other parts of 
 the chapter, they exhibit, in a series of bold and lively metaphors, % 
 description of the various infirmities attendant on old age. 
 
 + Matt. XXV. 9. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 41 
 
 difficulties which lie in his way to glory, it must be a great 
 and mighty salvation indeed. If such a one escapes de- 
 struction^ and is saved at the lastj it must, without all 
 peradventure, be — so as by fire * 
 
 This is the season which stands in need of comfort, and 
 is very improper to enter upon the conflict. The husband- 
 man should now be putting in his sickle, or eating the fruit 
 of his labours; not beginning to break up the ground, or 
 scatter the seed. Nothing, 'tis true, is impossible with 
 God. He said. Let there be light, and there teas li^ht; 
 instantaneous light diffused, as quick as thought, through 
 all the dismal dominion of primeval darkness. At his com- 
 mand, a leprosy of the longest continuance, and of the 
 utmost inveteracy, departs in a moment. He can, in the 
 greatness of his strength, quicken the wretch who has lain 
 dead in trespasses and sins, not four days only, but four- 
 score years. Yet trust not, O trust not, a point of such 
 inejcpressible importance to so dreadful an uncertainty . God 
 may suspend his power ; may withdraw his help ; may swear, 
 in his wrath, that such abusers of his long-suffering shall 
 " never enter into his rest." 
 
 Ye, therefore, that are vigorous in health, and blooming 
 in years, improve the precious opportunity. Improve vour 
 golden hours to the noblest of all purposes: such as may 
 render you meet for the inheritance of saints in light ; and 
 ascertain your title to a state of immortal youth, to a crown 
 oi eternal glory.f Stand not^ all the prime of your day, 
 
 * 1 Cor. iii. 15. 
 
 t iNIay I be permitted to recommend, as a treasure of inestimable 
 value, and a treatise particularly apposite to my subject. Dr. Lucas's 
 Inquiry after Happiness ? that part especially, which displays the me- 
 thod, and enumerates the advantages, of improving life, or living much 
 in a little time, chap. iii. p. 158, of the 6th edit. — an author, in whom 
 the gentleman, the scholar, and the Christian, are most happily 
 united — 2i performance, which, in point of solid argument, unaffected 
 piety, and a vein of thought amazingly fertile, has, perhaps, no supe- 
 rior. Nor can I wish my reader a more refined pleasure, or a more 
 
42 MEDITATIONS 
 
 idle : trifle no longer with the offers of this immense feli- 
 city : but make haste, and delay not the time, to keep God's 
 commandments. While you are loitering in a gay insensi* 
 hility, death may be bending his bow, and marking you out 
 for speedy victims. Not long ago, I happened to spy a 
 thoughtless J«y. The poor bird was idly busied in dressing 
 his pretty plumes, or hopping carelessly from spray to 
 spray. A sportsman coming by observes the feathered 
 rover 3 immediately he lifts the tube, and levels his blow. 
 Swifter than whirlwind flies the leaden death -, and, in a 
 moment, lays the silly creature breathless on the ground. 
 Such, such may be the fate of the man who has a fair oc- 
 casion of obtaining grace to-day, and wantonly postpones 
 the improvement of it till to-morrow. He may be cut off 
 in the midst of his folly, and ruined for ever while he is 
 dreaming of being wise hereafter. 
 
 Some, no doubt, came to this their last retreat, full oj 
 piety, and full of days ; '^ as a shock of corn, ripe with 
 age and laden with plenty, cometh in in his season.^" 
 These were children of light, and ivise in their generation j 
 wise with that exalted wisdom which cometh from above, 
 and with that enduring wisdom which lasts to eternity. 
 Rich also they were, more honourably and permanently 
 rich, than all the votaries of Mammon. The wealth of 
 the one has made itself wings, and is irrecoverably gone ; 
 while the wretched acquirers are transmitted to that place 
 of penury and pain, where not so much as one drop of 
 water is allowed to cool their scorching tongues. The stores 
 of the other still abide with them 3 will never depart from 
 them 3 but make them glad for ever and ever, in the city 
 of their God. Their treasures were such as no created 
 power could take aicay ; such as none but infinite benefi- 
 
 substantial happiness, than that of having the sentiments of this en- 
 tertaining and pathetic writer wove into the very texture of his 
 heart. 
 ' * Job, v. 26. - 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 43 
 
 cence can bestow ; and (comfortable to consider !) such as 
 \, and every indigent longing sinner, may obtain ; treasures 
 of heavenly knowledge and saving faith ; treasures of 
 atoning blood and imputed righteousness. 
 
 Here * lie their bodies in "' peaceable habitations, and 
 
 * Some, I know, are offended at our burying corpses within the 
 church ; and exclaim against it, as a veiy great impropriety and 
 indecency. But this, I imagine, proceeds from an excessive and mis- 
 taken delicacy. If proper care be taken to secure from injury the 
 foundations of tlie bvilding, and to prevent the exhalation of any 
 noxious effluvia from the putrefying flesh, I cannot discover any in- 
 conveniences attending this practice. 
 
 The notion, that noisome carcases (as they are called) are veiy 
 unbecoming a place consecrated to religious purposes, seems to be 
 derived from the antiquated Jeu-ish canon, whereby it was declared, 
 that a dead body imparted defilement to the person who touched 
 it, and polluted the spot where it was lodged ; on which account the 
 Jews were scrupulously careful to have their sepulchres built at a 
 distance from their houses ; and made it a point of conscience not to 
 suffer burial-places to subsist in the city. But as this was a rite 
 purely ceremonial, it seems to be entirely superseded by tiie Gospel 
 dispensation. 
 
 1 cannot forbear thinking that, under the Christian economy, there 
 is a propriety and usefulness in the custom. Usefulness, because it 
 must render our solemn assemblies more venerable and awful. For 
 when we walk over the dust of our friends, or kneel upon the ashes 
 of our relations, this awakening circumstance must strike a lively 
 impression of our own mortality. And what consideration can be 
 more effectual, to make us serious and attentive in hearing, earnest 
 and importunate in praying } 
 
 As for the fitness of the usage, it seems perfectly suitable to the 
 design of those sacred edifices. They are set apart for God, not only 
 to receive his worshippers, but to presene the furniture for holy mi- 
 nistrations, and what is, in a peculiar manner, appropriated to the 
 Divine Majesty. Are not the bodies of the saints the Almighty's 
 property ? Were they not once the objects of his tender love ? Are 
 they not still the subjects of his special care ? Has he not given 
 commandment concerning the bones of his elect ; and charged the 
 ocean, and enjoined the grave, to keep them until that day ? When 
 rocks bright with gems, or mountains rich with mines, are aban- 
 doned to the devouring flames, will not these be rescued from the 
 fiery ruin } Will not thesehe translated into Jehovah's kingdom, and, 
 conjointly with the soul, made *' his jewels ;" made " his peculiar 
 treasure ;" made to shine as the brightness of the firmament, and 
 as the stars for ever and ever ? 
 
44 MEDITATIONS 
 
 quiet resting-places." Here, they have thrown off every 
 burden, and are escaped from every S7iare. The head aches 
 no more 3 the eye forgets to weep 3 the flesh is no longer 
 racked with acute, nor wasted with lingering distempers. 
 Here, they receive a final release from pain, and an ever- 
 lasting discharge from sorrow. Here, danger never threat- 
 ens them with her terrifying alarms 3 but tranquillity softens 
 their couch, and safety guards their repose. Rest then, 
 ye precious relics, within this hospitable gloom. Rest in 
 gentle slumbers, till the last trumpet shall give the wel- 
 come signal 3 and sound aloud, through all your silent 
 mansions, ''Arise 3 shine 3 for your light is come, and 
 the glory of the Lord is risen upon you." * 
 
 To these, how calm was the evening of life ! In what 
 a smiling serenity did their sun go down ! When their 
 flesh and their heart failed, how reviving was the remem- 
 brance of an all-sufficient Redeemer, once dying for their 
 sins, now risen again for tkelr justification ! How cheer- 
 Is not Christ the Lord of our bodies ? Are they uot bought with 
 a price; bought, not with corruptible thhigs silver and gold, but 
 with his divinely precious blood ? And, if the blessed Jesus obtained 
 the redemption of our bodies at so infinitely dear a rate, can it enter 
 into our hearts to conceive that he should dislike to have them re- 
 posed under his own habitation .' Once more ; are not the bodies 
 of th€ faithful temples of the Holy Ghost ? And is there not, upon 
 this supposition, an apjiarent propriety, rather than the least inde- 
 corum, in remitting these temples of flesh to the temples made 
 with hands ? They are vessels of honour, instruments of righteous- 
 ness ; and, even when broken by death, like the fragments of a 
 golden bowl, are valuable 3 are worthy to be laid up in the safest, 
 most honourable repositories. 
 
 Upon the whole, since the Lord Jesus has purchased them at the 
 expense of his blood, and the blessed Spirit has honoured them with 
 his in-dwelling presence ; since they are right dear in the sight 
 of the adorable Trinity, and undoubted heirs of a glorious immor- 
 tality ; why should it be thought a thing improper, to admit them to 
 a transient rest in their heavenly Father's house ? Why may they 
 not lie down and sleep in the outer courts, since they are soon 
 to be introduced into the inmost mamions of everlasting honour ancl 
 joy ? 
 * Isa. Ix, 1. 
 
amo?Jg the tombs. 45 
 
 ing the well-groniided hope of pardon for their trans- 
 gressions, and peace with God, through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord ! How did this assuage the agonies, and sweeten 
 the bitterness of death ? Where now is wealth, with all 
 her golden mountains ? Where is honour, with her proud 
 trophies of renown ? Where are all the vain pomps of a 
 deluded world ? Can they inspire such comfort, can they 
 administer any support, in this last extremity ? Can they 
 compose the affrighted thoughts ? or buoy up the departing 
 soul, amidst all the pangs of dissolution ? The followers 
 of the Lamb seem pleased and triumphant, even at their 
 last gasp. " God's everlasting arms are underneath"* 
 their fainting heads. His Spirit whispers peace and con- 
 solation to their consciences. In the strength of these 
 heavenly succours, they quit the field, not captives, but 
 conquerors , with '' hopes full of immortality." 
 
 And now they are gone. The struggles of reluctant 
 nature are over. The body sleeps in death j the soul 
 launches into the invisible state. But who can imagine 
 the delightful surprise, when they find themselves sur- 
 rounded by guardian angels, instead of iceeping friends ? 
 How securely do they wing their way, and pass through 
 unknown worlds, under the conduct of those celestial guides ? 
 The vale of tears is quite lost. Farewell, for ever, the 
 realms of woe, and range of malignant beings ! They 
 aiTive on the frontiers of inexpressible felicity. They 
 " are come to the city of the living God :" while a voice 
 sweeter than music in her softest strains, sweet as the 
 harmony of hymning seraphim, congratulates their arrival^ 
 and bespeaks their admission : Lift up your heads, O ye 
 gates ; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, that the heirs 
 of glory may enter in. 
 
 Here^ then, let us leave the spirits and souls of the 
 righteous j escaped from an entangling tcilderness, and 
 received into a paradise of delights ! escaped from the 
 
 * Deut. xxxiii, 27. 
 
46 MEDITATIONS 
 
 territories of disquietude, and settled in regions of unmo- 
 lested security ! Here, they sit down witli Abraham, 
 Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of their Father. Here, 
 they mingle with an innumerable company of angels, and 
 rejoice around the throne of the Lamb : rejoice in the 
 fruition of present felicity, and in the assured ecV-pectat'ion 
 of an inconceivable addition to their bliss 3 when God shall 
 call the heavens from above, and the earth, that he may 
 judge his people."* 
 
 Fools accounted their life madness, and their end to be 
 ivithout honour : but they are numbered among the children, 
 ofGo^', and their lot, their distinguished and eternal lot, 
 is among the saints I \ However, therefore, an undiscern- 
 ing world may despise, and a profane world vilify, the truly 
 religious 3 be this the supreme, the invariable desire of 
 my heart : " Let me live the life and die the death of the 
 righteous. Oh ! let my latter end and future state be like 
 theirs !" 
 
 What figure is that which strikes my eye from an 
 eminent part of the wall } It is not only placed in a more 
 elevated situation than the rest, but carries a more splendid 
 and sumptuous air than ordinary. Swords and spears, 
 murdering engines and instruments of slaughter, adorn the 
 stone with a formidable magnificence. — It proves to be 
 the monument of a noble warrior. 
 
 Is such respect, thought I, paid to the memory of this 
 brave soldier for sacrificing his life to the public good? 
 
 * Seneca's reflections upon the state of holy souls delivered from 
 the burden of the flesh, are sparkling and fine, yet very indistinct and 
 empty compared with the particulars mentioned above, and with 
 jnany others that might be collected from Scripture. In hoc tarn 
 procelloso et in omnes tetnpestates e.vposito navigantibus mart, nullus 
 partus nisi mortis est. Ne itaque invideris fratri tuo ; quiescit. Tan- 
 dem liber, tandem tutus, tandem ceternm est. Fruitur nunc aperto 
 et Ubero coelo ; ex humili et depresso, in eum emicuit locum, qui solutas 
 vincuHs animas beato recipit sinu ; et nunc omnia rerum natura bona 
 eum summa voluptate percipit. Sen. ad Polyb. 
 
 f Wisdom, V. 4, 5. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 47 
 
 Then what honours, what immortal honours, are clue to 
 the great Captain of our salvation r who, though Lord 
 of the angelic legions, and supreme Commander of all the 
 heavenly hosts, willingly offered himself a bleeding' pro- 
 pitiation for sinners ! 
 
 The one died, being a mortal, and only yielded up a 
 life which was long before forfeited to divine justice : 
 which must soon have been surrendered as a debt to nature 
 if it had not fallen as a prey to war. But Christ took flesh 
 and gave up the ghost, though he was the great I Am, 
 the fountain of existence, who calls happiness and im- 
 mortality all his own. He who thought it no robbery to 
 be equal ivkh God, he whose outgoings were from ever- 
 lasting, even he was made in the likeness of man, and 
 cut off out of the land of the living. Wonder, O heavens ! 
 be astonished, O earth ! He died the death, of whom it 
 is witnessed, that he is '* the true God and eternal life."* 
 
 The one e.vposed himself to peril in the service of his 
 sovereign and his country, which, though it was glorious to 
 do, yet V, ould have been ignominious in such circumstances 
 to have declined. But Christ took the field, though he 
 was the blessed and only Potentate ; the King of kiugs^ 
 and Lord of lords. Christ took the field, though he was 
 sure to drop in the' engagement ; and put on the harness^ 
 though he knew beforehand that it must reek with his 
 blood. That Prince of heaven resigned his royal person, 
 not barely to the hazard, but to the inevitable stroke ; to 
 death, certain in its approach and armed with all its 
 horrors. And for ivhom 9 Not for those who were in any 
 degree deserving, but for his disobedient creatures, for the 
 pardon of condemned malefactors ; for a band of rebels, 
 a race of traitors, the most obnoxious and inexcusable of 
 all criminals, whom he might have left to perish in their 
 iniquities, without the least impeachment of his goodness, 
 and to the display of his avenging justice, 
 
 * 1 John, V. 20. 
 
48 MEDITATIONS 
 
 The one, it is probable, died ea'pedumisly; was suddenly 
 wounded, and soon slain. A bullet lodged in his heart, a 
 sword sheathed in his breast, or a battle-axe cleaving the 
 brain, might put a speedy end to his misery, despatchi 
 him " as in a moment j" whereas the divine Redeemer 
 expired in tedious and protracted torments. His pangs 
 were as lingering as they were exquisite. Even in the 
 prelude to his last suffering, what a load of sorrows 
 overwhelmed his sacred humanity ! till the intolerable pres- 
 sure wrung blood, instead of sweat, from every pore : till 
 the crimson flood stained all his raiment and tinged the 
 very stones. But, when the last scene of the tragedy com- 
 menced 5 when the executioner's hammer had nailed him to 
 the cross j O ! how many dismal horns did that illustrious 
 sufferer hang, a spectacle of woe to God, to angels, and 
 to men ! His temples mangled with the thorny crown ! his 
 hands and feet cleft with the rugged irons ! his whole body 
 covered with wounds and bruises ! and his soul, his very 
 soul, pierced with pangs of unutterable distress ! 
 
 So long he hung, that nature through all her dominions was 
 thrown into sympathizing commotions. The earth could no 
 longer sustain such barbarous indignities without trembling, 
 nor the sun behold them without horror. Nay, so long did 
 he hang in this extremity of agony and torture, that the 
 alarm reached even the remote regions of the dead. Never, 
 O my soul, never forget the amazing truth. The Lamb 
 of God was seized, was bound, was slaughtered with the 
 utmost inhumanity, and endured death in all its bitterness 
 for thee ! His murderers, studiously cruel, so guided the 
 fatal cup, that he tasted everif drop of its gall, before he 
 drank it off to the very dregs. 
 
 Once again 3 the warrior died like a hero, and fell gal- 
 lantly in the field of battle. But died not Christ as a fool 
 dieth ? * Not on the bed of honour, with scars of glory in 
 
 * 2 Sam. iii. 33. Of this indignity our Lord complains : Are you 
 come out as against a thief ? •—'^IdXX, xxvi. 65. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 49 
 
 his breast -, but like some execrable miscreant on a gibbet, 
 with the lashes of the vile scourge on his back. Yes, the 
 blessed Jesus bowed his expiring head on the accursed 
 tree, suspended between heaven and earth, as an outcast 
 from both, and unworthy of either. 
 
 What suitable returns of inflamed and adoring devotion 
 can we make to the Holy One of God -, thus dying, that 
 we might live ; dying in ignominy and anguish, that we 
 might live for ever in the heights of joy, and sit for ever 
 on thrones of glory ? Alas ! it is not in its, impotent, 
 insensible mortals, to be duly thankful. He only who con- 
 fers such inconceivably rich favours, can enkindle a proper 
 warmth of grateful aifections. Then build thyself a monu- 
 ment , most gracious Immanuel, build thyself an everlasting 
 monument of gratitude in our souls. Inscribe the memory 
 of thy matchless beneficence, not with ink and pen, but 
 with that precious blood which gushed from thy wounded 
 veins. Engrave it, not with the hammer and chisel, but 
 with that sharpened spear which pierced thy sacred side. 
 Let it stand conspicuous and indelible, not on outward 
 tables of stone, but on the very inmost tables of our hearts. 
 
 One thing more let me observe, before I bid adieu to 
 this entombed warrior, and his garnished sepulchre. How 
 mean are these ostentatious methods, of bribing the vote 
 of fame, and purchasing a little posthumous renown ! 
 WTiat a poor substitute for a set of memorable actions, is 
 polished alabaster, or the mimickry of sculptured marble ! 
 The real excellency of this bleeding patriot * is written on 
 
 * Sir Bevil Granville, slain in the civil wars, at an engagement \%ith 
 the rebels. It may possibly be some entertainment to the reader, if 
 I subjoin Sir Bevil's character, as it is dra^^^l by that celebrated pen 
 which wrote the history of those calamitous times. " That which 
 would have clouded any victory, says the noble historian, and made the 
 loss of others less spoken of, was the death of Sir Bevil Granville. 
 He was indeed an excellent person, whose activity, interest, and repu- 
 tation, were the foundation of what had been done in Cornwall : his 
 temper and affections so public, that no accident which happened 
 could make any impression upon him : and his example kept others 
 
 E 
 
50 MEDITATIONS 
 
 the minds of liis countrymen ; it would be remembered 
 with applause so long as the nation subsists, without this 
 artificial expedient to perpetuate it. And such, such is 
 the monument I would wish for myself. Let me leave 
 a memorial in the breasts of my fellow-creatures. Let 
 surviving friends bear witness, that I have not lived to 
 myself alone, nor been altogether unserviceable in my 
 generation. Oh ! let an uninterrupted series of beneficent 
 offices be the inscription ; and the best interests of my 
 acquaintance the j)late that exhibits it. 
 
 Let the j)oor, as they pass by my grave, point at the little 
 spot, and thankfully acknowledge, '^ There lies the man, 
 whose unwearied kindness was the constant relief of my 
 various distresses j who tenderly visited my languishing 
 bed, and readily supplied my indigent circumstances. How 
 often were his counsels a guide to my perplexed thoughts, 
 and a cordial to my dejected spirits ! 'Tis owing to God's 
 blessing, on his seasonable charities, and prudent consola- 
 tions, that I now live, and live in comfort." Let a person, 
 once Ignorant and ungodly, lift up his eyes to heaven, and 
 say within himself, as he walks over my bones, " Here 
 are the last remains of that sincere friend, who watched for 
 my soul. I can never forget with what heedless gaiety I was 
 posting on in the paths of perdition ; and I tremble to 
 think into what irretrievable ruin I might quickly have 
 been plunged, had not his faithful admonitions arrested 
 me in the wild career. I was unacquainted with the Gos- 
 pel of peace, and had no concern for its unsearchable 
 treasures : but now, enlightened by his instructive conver- 
 sation, I see the all-sufficiency of my Saviour, and animated 
 by his repeated, exhortations, I count all things but loss, 
 that I may win Christ. Methinks, his discourses, seasoned 
 
 from taking any thing ill, or at least seeming to do so. In a word, a 
 brighter courage and a gentler disposition were never married to- 
 gether, to make the most cheerful and innocent conversation." 
 
 Clar. Hist. Reb^ vol. ii. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 51 
 
 with religion, and set home by the divine Spirit, still 
 tingle in my ears, are still warm upon my hearty and, I trusty 
 will be more and more operative, till we meet each other 
 in the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
 The only infallible way of immortalizing our characters, 
 a way equally open to the meanest and most exalted for- 
 tune, is, " To make our calling and election sure," to 
 gain some sweet evidence that our names are tvritten in 
 heaven. Then, however they may be disregarded or for- 
 gotten among men, they will not fail to be had in ever- 
 lasting remembrance before the Lord. This is, of all 
 distinctions, far the noblest. Ambition, be this thy object, 
 and every page of Scripture will sanctify thy passion 5 
 even grace itself will fan thy flame. As to earthly me- 
 morials, yet a little while, and they are all obliterated. 
 The tongue of those, whose happiness we have zealously 
 promoted, must soon be silent in the coffin. Characters 
 cut with a pen of iron, and committed to the solid rock, 
 will ere long cease to be legible.* But as many as are 
 enrolled ''^ in the Lamb's book of life," He himself de- 
 clares, shall never be blotted out from those annals of 
 eternity.f When a flight of years has mouldered the 
 triumphal column into dust ; when the brazen statue pe- 
 rishes under the corroding hand of time 3 those honours 
 still continue, still are blooming and incorruptible in the 
 world of glory. 
 
 ^lake the extended skies your tomb ; 
 
 Let stars record your worth : 
 Yet know, vain mortals, all must die. 
 
 As nature's sickliest birth. 
 
 Would bounteous Heaven indulge my prayer, 
 
 I frame a nobler choice ; 
 Nor, lining, wish the pompous pile ; 
 
 Nor, dead, regret the loss. 
 
 * Data sunt ipsis quoquefata sevulchris. — ^Juv. 
 
 f Rev. iii. 5. 
 
 E 2 
 
52. MEDITATIONS 
 
 In thy fair hook of life divine. 
 
 My God, inscribe my name : 
 There let it fill some humble place. 
 
 Beneath the slaughter'd Lamb. 
 
 Thy saints, while ages roll away. 
 
 In endless fame sun-ive ; 
 Their glories, o'er the wrongs of time 
 
 Greatly triumphant, live. 
 
 Yonder entrance leads, I suppose, to the vault. Let 
 me turn aside, and take one view of the habitation, and 
 its tenants. The sullen door grates upon its hinges : not 
 used to receive many visitants, it admits me with reluc- 
 tance and murmurs. What meaneth this sudden trepida- 
 tion, while I descend the steps, and am visiting the pale 
 nations of the dead ? Be composed, my spirits j there is. 
 nothing to fear in these quiet chambers. ^' Here^ even 
 the wicked cease from troubling." 
 
 Good heavens ! what a solemn scene ! How dismal the 
 gloom ! Here is perpetual darkness, and night even at 
 noon-day. How doleful the solitude ! Not one trace of 
 cheerful society -, but sorrow and terror seem to have made 
 this their dreaded abode. Hark ! how the hollow dome 
 resounds at every tread. The echoes, that long have slept^ 
 are awakened -, and lament, and sigh along the walls. 
 
 A beam or two. finds its way through the grates, and 
 reflects a feeble glimmer from the nails of the coffins. So 
 many of those sad spectacles, half concealed in shades, 
 half seen dimly by the baleful twilight, add a deeper 
 horror to these gloomy mansions. I pore upon the in- 
 scriptions, and am just able to pick out, that these are 
 the remains of the rich and renowned. No vulgar dead 
 are deposited here. The most illustrious and right honour- 
 able have claimed this for their last retreat : and, indeed, 
 they retain somewhat of a shadowy pre-eminence. They 
 lie, ranged in mournful order, and in a sort of silent pomp, 
 under the arches of an ample sepulchre ; while meaner 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 53 
 
 corpses^ without much ceremony, " go down to the stones 
 of the pit." 
 
 My apprehensions recover from their surprise, I find 
 here are no phantoms, but such as fear raises. How^ever, 
 it still amazes me to observe the wonders of this nether 
 world. Those who received vast revenues, and called 
 whole lordships their own, are here reduced to half a dozen 
 f^et of earth, or confined in a few sheets of lead. Rooms 
 of state and sumptuous furniture are resigned, for no other 
 ornament than the shroud, for no other apartment than 
 the darksome niche. Where is the star that blazed upon 
 the breast, or coronet that glittered round the temples? 
 The only remains of departed dignity are, the weather- 
 beaten hatchment and the tattered escutcheon. I see no 
 splendid retinue surrounding this solitary dwelling. The 
 lordly equipage hovers no longer about the lifeless master. 
 He has no other attendant than a dusty statue, which, 
 while the regardless world is as gay as ever, the sculptor's 
 hand has taught to weep. 
 
 Those who gloried in high-born ancestors and noble 
 pedigree, here drop their lofty pretensions. They acknow- 
 ledge kindred with creeping things, and quarter arms with 
 the meanest reptiles. They say to corruption. Thou art my 
 father ', and to the luorm, Thou art my mother and my 
 sister. Or, should they still assume the style of distinction, 
 ah ! how impotent were the claim ! how apparent the 
 ostentation ! Is it said by their monument, " Here lies 
 the great ?" How easily is it replied by the spectator ! 
 
 False marble ! where ? 
 
 Nothing but poor and sordid dust lies here. 
 
 Mortifying truth ! Sufficient, one would think, to wean 
 the most sanguine appetite from this transitory state of 
 things 5 from its sickly satisfactions, its fading glories, its 
 vanishing treasures : 
 
54 MEDITATIONS 
 
 For now, ye lying vanities of life ! 
 
 Ye ever-tempting, ever-cheating train ! 
 
 Where are you now ? And what is your amount ? 
 
 What is all the world to these poor breathless beings } 
 What are their pleasures ? A bubble broke. What their 
 honours ? A dream that is forgotten. What the sum total 
 of their enjoyments below ? Once, perhaps, it appeared, 
 to inexperienced and fond desire, something considerable j 
 but now death has measured it with his line and weighed 
 it in his scale, what is the upshot ? Alas ! it is shorter 
 than a span ; lighter than the dancing spark 3 and driven 
 away like the dissolving smoke. 
 
 Indulge, my soul, a serious pause. Recollect all the 
 gay things that were wont to dazzle thy eyes and inveigle 
 thy affections. Here examine those baits of sense ; here 
 form an estimate of their real value. Suppose thyself first 
 among the favourites of fortune, who revel in the lap of 
 pleasure, who shine in the robes of honour, and swim in 
 tides of inexhausted riches. Yet, how soon will the pass- 
 ing bell proclaim thy exit ! And, when' once that iron call 
 has summoned thee to thy future reckoning, where would 
 all these gratifications be ? At that period, how will all 
 the pageantry of the most affluent, splendid, or luxurious 
 circumstances, vanish into empty air ! And, is this a 
 happiness so passionately to be coveted ? 
 
 I thank you, ye relics of sounding titles and magnificent 
 names. Ye have taught me more of the littleness of the 
 world than all the volumes of my library. Your nobility 
 arrayed in a winding-sheet, your grandeur mouldering in 
 an urn, are the most indisputable proofs of the nothingness 
 of created things. Never, surely, did Providence write 
 this important point in such legible characters, as in the 
 ashes of my lord or on the corpse of his grace* Let 
 
 Mors sola fatetur 
 
 Quantula sint homifium corpuscula ,' — Juv. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 55 
 
 others^ if they please^, pay their obsequious court to your 
 wealthy soiis^ and ignobly fawn^ or anxiously sue^ for pre- 
 ferments : my thoughts shall often resort, in pensive con- 
 templation, to the sepulchres of their sires ; and learn, 
 from their sleeping dust — to moderate my expectations from 
 mortals, to stand disengaged from every undue attachment 
 to the little interests of time, to get above the delusive 
 amusements of honour, the gaudy tinsels of wealth, and all 
 the empty shadows of a perishing world. 
 
 Hark ! what sound is that ? In such a situation every 
 noise alarms. Solemn and slow, it breaks again upon the 
 silent air. 'Tis the striking of the clock ; designed, one 
 would imagine, to ratify all my serious meditations. Me- 
 thinks it says Amen, and sets a seal to every improving 
 hint. It tel!s me, that another portion of my appointed 
 time is elapsed. One calls it, *' the knell of my departed 
 hours." 'Tis the watchword to vigilance and activit^^ It 
 cries in the ear of reason, "^ Redeem the time. Catch the 
 favourable gales of opportunity : O ! catch them, while 
 they breathe j before they are irrecoverably lost. The 
 span of life shortens continually. Thy minutes are all 
 upon the wing, and hastening to be gone. Thou art a 
 borderer upon eternity, and making incessant ad\'ances to 
 the state thou art contemplating." May the admonition 
 sink deep into an attentive and obedient mind ! May it 
 teach me that heavenly arithmetic, of " numbering my 
 days, and applying my heart unto wisdom !" 
 
 I have often walked beneath the impending promontory's 
 craggy cliffy I have sometimes trod the vast spaces of the 
 lonely desert, and penetrated the inmost recesses of the 
 dreary cavern : but never, never beheld nature louring with 
 so tremendous a form j never felt such impressions of awe 
 striking cold on my heart, as under these black-browed 
 arches, amidst these mouldy walls, and surrounded by 
 such rueful objects ; where melancholy, deepest melan- 
 choly, for ever spreads her raven wings ! Let me now 
 
56 MEDITATIONS 
 
 emerge from tlie damp and dreadful obscurity ! Farewell^ 
 ye seats of desolation, and shades of death ! Gladly I 
 revisit the realms of day. 
 
 Having cast a superficial view upon these receptacles 
 of the dead,, curiosity prompts my inquiry to a more 
 intimate survey. Could we draw back the covering of the 
 tomb J could we discern what those are now who once 
 were mortals — O ! how would it surprise and grieve us ! 
 . — surprise us, to behold the prodigious transformation 
 which has taken place on every individual ; grieve us, to 
 observe the dishonour done to our nature in general 
 within these subterraneous lodgements ! 
 
 Here, the sweet and winning aspect, that wore per- 
 petually an attractive smile, grins horribly a naked ghastly 
 skull. The eye that outshone the diamond's brilliancy, 
 and glanced its lovely lightning into the most guarded 
 heart : alas ! where is it ? Where shall we find the rolling 
 sparkler ? How are all its sprightly beams eclipsed, 
 totally eclipsed ! The tongue, that once commanded all 
 the power of eloquence, in this strange land has " forgot 
 its cunning." Where are now those strains of harmony, 
 which ravished our ears ? Where is that flow of persua- 
 sion, which carried captive our judgments ? The great 
 master of language and of song is become silent as the 
 night that surrounds him. The pampered ^e*/i, so lately 
 clothed in purple and fine linen, how is it covered rudely 
 with clods of clay ! There was a time, when the timor- 
 ously nice creature would scarce ^' adventure to set a foot 
 upon the ground for delicateness and tenderness,"* but 
 is now enwrapped in clammy earth, and sleeps on no 
 softer a pillow than the ragged gravel-stones. Here, 
 '' the strong men bow themselves." The nervous arm is 
 unstrung } the brawny sinews are relaxed , the limbs, not 
 long ago the seats of vigour and activity, lie down motion- 
 
 * Deut. xxviii. 56. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 57 
 
 less 5 and the bones, which were as bars of iron, are 
 crumbled into dust. 
 
 Here, the man of business forgets all his favourite schemes, 
 and discontinues the pursuit of gain. Here, is a total stand 
 to the circulation of merchandise and the hurry of trade. 
 In these solitary recesses, as in the building of Solomon s 
 temple, is heard no sound of the hammer and axe. The 
 winding-sheet and the cofl&n are the utmost bound of all 
 earthly devices. " Hitherto may they go, but no farther." 
 Here, the sons oi pleasure take a final farewell of their dear 
 delights. No more is the sensualist anointed with oil, or 
 crowned with rose-buds. He chants no more to the me- 
 lody of the viol, nor revels any longer at the banquet of 
 wine. Instead of sumptuous tables and delicious treats, 
 the poor voluptuary is himself a feast for fattened insects , 
 the reptile riots in his flesh ; " the worm feeds sweetly on 
 him." * Here also beauty fails ; bright beauty drops her 
 lustre here. O ! how her roses fade, and her lilies lan- 
 guish, in this bleak soil ! How does the grand leveller 
 pour contempt upon the charmer of our hearts ! How turn 
 to deformity what captivated the world before ! 
 
 Could the lover have a sight of his once enchanting fair- 
 one, what a startling astonishment would seize him ! '' Is 
 this the object I not long ago so passionately admired? 
 I said, she was divinely fair ; and thought her somewhat 
 more than mortal. Her form was symmetry itself 5 every 
 elegance breathed in her air ; and all the Graces waited on 
 her motions. 'Twas music, when she spoke 5 but, when 
 she spoke encouragement, 'twas little less than rapture. 
 How my heart danced to those charming accents ! And 
 can that which, some weeks ago, was to admiration lovely , 
 be now so insufferably loathsome ? MTiere are those blush- 
 ing cheeks ? where the coral lips ? where that ivory neck, 
 on which the curling jet in such glossy ringlets flowed ? with 
 
 * Job, xxiv. 20. 
 
68 BIEDITATIONS 
 
 a thousand other beauties of person^ and ten thousand de- 
 licacies of action ? * Amazing alteration ! Delusory bliss ! 
 Fondly I gazed upon the glittering meteor. It shone bright- 
 ly 3 and I mistook it for a star ; for a permanent and sub- 
 stantial good. But how is it fallen ! fallen from an orb^ 
 not its o^\Ti ! And all that 1 can trace on earthy is but a 
 j)utrid massy 
 
 Lie, poor Florellal lie deep, as thou dost, in obscure 
 darkness. Let night, with her impenetrable shades, always 
 conceal thee. May no prying eye be witness to thy dis- 
 grace : but let thy surviving sisters think upon thy state, 
 when they contemplate the idol in the glass. When the 
 pleasing image rises gracefully to view, surrounded with a 
 world of charms, and flushed with joy at the consciousness 
 of them all ; then, in those minutes of temptation and dan- 
 ger, when vanity uses to steal into the thoughts — then, let 
 them remember what a veil of horror is drawn over a face, 
 which was once beautiful and brilliant as theirs. Such a 
 seasonable reflection might regulate the labours of the toilet, 
 and create a more earnest solicitude to polish the jewel 
 than to varnish the casket. It might then become their 
 highest ambition to have the mind decked with divine vir- 
 tues, and dressed after the amiable pattern of their Re- 
 deemer's holiness. 
 
 And would this prejudice their persons, or depreciate 
 their charms r Quite the reverse. It would spread a sort 
 of heavenly glory over the finest set of features, and heighten 
 the loveliness of every other engaging accomplishment. 
 What is yet a more inviting consideration, these flowers 
 would not wither with nature, nor be tarnished by time ; 
 but would open coutinually into richer beauties, and flourish 
 even in the lointer of age. But the most incomparable re- 
 
 * Quo fugit Venus? heu! quove color? decens 
 Quo motus ? Quid hahet illius, illiuSj 
 QucB spirahat amores, 
 Quce me surpuerat mihi? — Hor, 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 59 
 
 commendation of these noble qualities is, that from their 
 hallowed relics, as from the fragrant ashes of the plKBiiix, 
 will ere long arise an illustrious form, bright as the ^^ings 
 of angels, lasting as the light of the new Jerusalem. 
 
 For my part, the remembrance of this sad revolution shall 
 make me ashamed to pay my devotion to a shrine of pe- 
 rishing flesh, and afraid to expect all my happiness from so 
 brittle a joy. It shall teach me not to think too highly of 
 well-proportioned clay, though formed in the most elegant 
 mould, and animated with the sweetest soul. 'Tis Heaven's 
 last, best, and crou^ling gift, to be received ^^-ith gratitude^ 
 and cherished with love, as a most valuable blessing j not 
 worshipped with the incense of flatteiy and strains of ful- 
 some adoration, as a goddess. It will cure, I trust, the 
 dotage of my eyes; and incline me always to prefer the 
 substantial " ornaments of a meek and virtuous spirit," be- 
 fore the transient decorations of white and red on the skin. 
 
 Here I called in my roving meditations from their long 
 excursion on this tender subject. Fancy listened a while 
 to the soliloquy of a lover. Now judgment resumes the 
 reins, and guides my thoughts to more near and self-inte- 
 resting inquiries. However, upon a review of the whole 
 scene, crowded with spectacles of mortality and trophies of 
 death, I could not forbear smiting my breast, and fetching 
 a sigh, and lamenting over the noblest of all visible beings, 
 laid prostrate under the feet of " the pale horse and his 
 rider."* I could not forbear repeating that pathetic ex- 
 clamation, '^ Oh ! thou Adam, ichat hast thou done ?" f What 
 desolation has thy disobedience wrought in the earth ! See 
 the malignity, the ruinous malignity, of sin ! Sin has de- 
 molished so many stately structures of flesh : sin has made 
 such havock among the most excellent ranks of God's lowef 
 creation : and sin (that deadly bane of our nature) would 
 have plunged our better part into the execrable horrors of 
 
 * Rev. vi, 8. t 2 Esdr, -t-ii. 41. 
 
^0 MEDITATIONS 
 
 the nethermost hell, had not our merciful Mediator inter- 
 posed, and given himself for our ransom. Therefore what 
 grateful acknowledgments does the whole world of penitent 
 sinners owe 3 what ardent returns of love will a whole 
 heaven of glorified believers pay, to such a friend, benefac- 
 tor, and deliverer ! 
 
 Musing upon these melancholy objects, a faithful remem- 
 brancer suggests from within — ''^ Must this sad change suc- 
 ceed in me also ? Am I to draw my last gasp , to become a 
 breathless corpse 3 and ^e, what I deplore?'^ Is there a 
 time approaching, when this body shall be carried out upon 
 the bier, and consigned to its clay-cold bed ? while some 
 kind acquaintance, perhaps, may drop one parting tear, and 
 cry, Alas, my brother !" Is the time approaching ? No- 
 thiilg is more certain 3 a decree, much surer than the law of 
 the Medes and Persians, has irrevocably determined the 
 doom. 
 
 Should one of these ghastly figures burst from his con=- 
 finement, and start up in frightful deformity before me — 
 should the haggard skeleton lift a clattering hand, and point 
 it full in my view — should it open the stiffened jaws, and 
 with a hoarse tremendous murmur break this profound si- 
 lence — should it accost me, as SamueFs apparition ad- 
 dressed the trembling king, " The Lord shall deliver thee 
 also into the hands of death; yet a little ivhile, and thou 
 shalt he with me^'\ — the solemn warning, delivered in so 
 
 * I pass, with melancholy state. 
 By all these solemn heaps of fate ; 
 And think, as soft and sad I tread 
 Above the venerable dead, 
 " Time was, like me, they life possess'd ; 
 And time will be, when I shall rest." — Parnell. 
 
 f 1 Sam. xxviii. 19. On this place, the Dutch translator of the 
 Meditations has added a note, to correct, very probably, what he sup- 
 poses a mistake. On the same supposition, I presume, the compilers 
 of our rubric ordered the last verse of Ecdus. xlvi, to be omitted in 
 the daily service of the church. But that the sentiment hinted above 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 61 
 
 striking a manner, must strongly impress my imagination. 
 A message in tliiinder would scarce sink deeper. Yet, 
 there is abundantly greater reason to be alarmed by that 
 express declaration of the Lord God Almighty, " Thou shalt 
 surely die.'' Well then, since sentence is passed, since I 
 am a condemned man, and know not when the dead warrant 
 may arrive 3 let me die to sin, and die to the world, before 
 I die beneath the stroke of a righteous God. Let me em- 
 ploy the little uncertain interval of respite from execution, 
 in preparing for a happier state and a better life ; that 
 when the fatal moment comes, and I am commanded to shut 
 my eyes upon all things here below, I may open them again 
 to see my Saviour in the mansions above. 
 
 Since this body, which is so fearfully and wonderfully 
 made, must fall to pieces in the grave) since I must soon 
 resign all my bodily powers to darkness, inactivity, and 
 corruption, let it be my constant care to use them well 
 while I possess them ! Let my hands be stretched forth to 
 relieve the needy, and always he more ^' ready to give than 
 to receive." Let my knees bend in deepest humiliation be- 
 fore the throne of grace, while my eyes are cast domi to 
 the earth in penitential confusion, or devoutly looking up to 
 heaven for pardoning mercy ! In every friendly interview, 
 let the '^ law of kindness dwell on my lips;" or rather, if the 
 seriousness of my acquaintance permits, let the Gospel of 
 peace flow from my tongue. O ! that I might be enabled, 
 in every public concourse, to lift up my voice like a trum- 
 pet, and pour abroad a more joyful sound than its most 
 melodious accents, in proclaiming the glad tidings of free 
 
 is strictly true; that it was i^jn Tt^lDlt^ Samuel himself (not an in- 
 fernal spirit, personating the prophet,) who appeared to the female 
 necromancer at Endor, appeared, not in compliance vnth. any diaboli- 
 cal incantation, but in pursuance of the divine commission ; this, I 
 think, is fully proved in the historical account of the life of David.' 
 Vol. I. chap, xxiii. 
 
62 MEDITATIONS 
 
 salvation ! Be shut, my ears, resolutely shut, against the 
 malevolent whispers of slander, and the contagious breath 
 of filthy talking. But be swift to hear the instructions of 
 wisdom ; be all attention when your Redeemer speaks ; 
 imbibe the precious tmths -, and convey them carefully to 
 the heart. Carrv' me, my feet, to the temple of the Lord, 
 to the beds of the sick, and houses of the poor. May all 
 my members, devoted entirely to my divine ^Master, be the 
 willing instruments of promoting his gloiy ! 
 
 Then, ye embalmei's, ye may spare your pains. These 
 works of faith and labours of love, these shall be my spices 
 and perfumes. Enwrapped in these, I would lay me gently 
 do^vn, and sleep sweetly in the blessed Jesus ; hoping that 
 God will '''give commandment concerning my bones," and 
 one day fetch them up from the dust, as silver from the fur- 
 nace, purified " I say not seven times, but seventy times 
 seven." 
 
 Here my contemplation took wing, and in an instant 
 alighted in the garden, adjoining to Mount Calvary. Having 
 viewed the abode of my deceased fellow-creatures, me- 
 thought I longed to see the place where our Lord lay. 
 And, O ! what a marvellous spectacle was once exhibited 
 in this memorable sepulchre ! He, '' who clothes himself 
 with light as vrsSSi a garment, and walks upon the wings of 
 the wind 3"* He was pleased to wear the habiliments of 
 
 * Tlie Scriptures, speaking of the Supreme Being, say — He icalketh 
 upon the waves of the sea; to denote his uncontrollable power, Joi, 
 ix. 8. — He icalketh in the circuit of heaven; to express the immensity 
 of his presence, Joh, xxii. 14. — He icalketh upon the icings of the 
 wind; to signify the amazing swiftness of his operations, Psal. civ. 3 ; 
 in which last phrase there is, I think, an elegance and emphasis, not 
 taken notice of by our commentators, yet unequalled in any \\Titer. — 
 Not, Hejiieth; He runneth; but. He icalketh: and that, on the very 
 wings of the wind ; on the most impetuous of elements, roused into 
 its utmost rage, and sweeping along with inconceivable rapidity. A 
 tumult in nature, not to be described, is the composed and sedate work 
 of the Deity. A speed, not to be measured, is (with reverence I use 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 63 
 
 mortality y and dwell among the prostrate dead. ^\Tio can 
 repeat the wondrous truth too often ? AATio can dweU upon 
 the transporting theme too long r He_, who sits enthroned 
 in gloiy, and diffuses bliss among all the heavenly hosts j 
 He was once a pale and bloody corpse^ and pressed this 
 little spot. 
 
 O death ! how great was thy triumph in that hour ! 
 Never did thy gloomy realms contain such a prisoner before. 
 Prisoner, did I say r Xo j He was more than conqueror. 
 He arose, far more mightily than Sampson, from a transient 
 slumber j broke down the gates, and demolished the strong- 
 holds of those dark dominions. And this, O mortals, this 
 is your only consolation and security. Jesus has trod the 
 dreadful path, and smoothed it for your passage. Jesus^ 
 sleeping in the chambers of the tomb, has brightened the 
 dismal mansion, and left an inviting odour in those beds of 
 dust. The dying Jesus ! (never let the comfortable truth 
 depart from your minds ! the dpng Jesus) is your sure 
 protection, your unquestionable passport, through the terri- 
 tories of the grave. Believe in Him, and they shall prov© 
 " a highway to Sion;' shaU transmit you safe to Paradise. 
 Believe in Him, and you shedl be no losers, but unspeak- 
 able gainers, by your dissolution. For hear what the oracle 
 of heaven says upon this important point : TVhoso believeth 
 in Me, shall never die.^ What sublime and emphatical 
 language is this ! This much, at least, it must import — . 
 The nature of that last change shall '*^be surprisingly altered 
 for the better 3 it shall no longer be indicted as a punish- 
 
 the expression, and to comport with our low methods of conception} 
 the solemn and majestic foot-pace of Jehovah. How /fat are the 
 folloi(\ing lines, even in the great master of Ivric song ; 
 
 Ocyor ceri'is, et agente nimbos 
 Ocyor EurOy 
 
 when compared with this inimitable stroke of dirine poetry — He 
 tBolheth upon the icings of the wind! 
 
 * John, xi. 26. 
 
64 MEDITATIONS 
 
 ment, but rather be vouchsafed as a blessing. To such 
 persons it shall come attended with such a train of benefits^ 
 as will render it a kind of happy impropriety to call it 
 dying. Dying ! No ; 'tis then they truly begin to live. 
 Their exit is the end of their frailty and their entrance 
 upon perfection. Their last groan is the prelude to life and 
 immortality." 
 
 O ye timorous souls, that are terrified at the sound of 
 the passing-bell, that turn pale at the siglit of an opened 
 ffrave. and can scarce behold a coffin or a skull without a 
 shuddering horror ; ye that are hi bondage to the grisly 
 tyrant, and tremble at the shaking of his iron rod 3 cry 
 mightily to the Father of your spirits,, for faith in his dear 
 Son. Faith will free you from your slavery."* Faith will 
 embolden you to tread on (this fiercest of) serpents. f Old 
 Simeon, clasping the child Jesus in the arms of his flesh, 
 and the glorious Mediator in the arms of his faith, departs 
 with tranquillity and peace. That bitter persecutor Saul, 
 having won Christ, being found in Christ, longs to be dis- 
 missed from cumbrous clay, and kindles into rapture at the 
 
 * Death's terror is the'mouiitani/a<M removes : 
 "Vis faith disarms destruction. — 
 BeUevey and look with triumph on the tomb. 
 
 These, and some other quotatioiJs, I am proud to borrow from the 
 Night Thoughts, especially from Night the Fourth; in which, energy 
 of language, sublimity of sentiment, and the most exquisite beauties 
 of poetry, are the least perfections to be admired. Almost every line 
 glows with devotion, rises into the most exalted apprehensions of the 
 adorable Redeemer, and is animated with the most lively faith in his 
 all-sufficient mediation. The author of tliis excellent performance 
 has the pecidiar felicity of ennobling all the strength of style, and 
 every delicacy of imagination, with the grand and distinguishing truths 
 of Christianity. These thoughts give the highest entertainment to 
 the fancy, and impart the noblest improvement to the mind. They, 
 not only refine our taste, but prepare us for death, and ripen us for 
 glory. I never take up this admirable piece, but I am ready to C17 
 out — Tecum vivere amem, tecum abeam lib ens ; i.e. " Inspire me with 
 such a spirit, and life shall be delightful, nor death itself iniwfel- 
 come." 
 
 t Luke, X. 19. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 65 
 
 prospect of dissolution.* Methinks I see another of Im- 
 manuel's followers, trusting in his Saviour,, leaning on his 
 Beloved, go down to the silent shades witii composure and 
 alacrity. f In this powerful name an innumerable company 
 of sinful creatures have set up their banners, and '^ over- 
 come, through the blood of the Lamb." Authorised by the 
 Captain of thy salvation, tJiou also mayst set thy feet upon 
 the neck of this king of terrors. Furnished with this anti- 
 dote, thoit also mayst play around the hole of the asp, and 
 put thy undaunted hand on this cockatrice-den. | Thou 
 mayst feel the viper § fastening to thy mortal part, and year 
 no evil: thou shalt one day shake it oflf by a joyful resur- 
 rection, and anffer no harm.. 
 
 Resurrection ! That cheering word eases my mind of an 
 anxious thought, and solves a most momentous question. 
 I was going to ask, " wherefore do all these corpses lie here, 
 in this abject condition ? Is this their final state r Has 
 death conquered, and will the tyrant hold captivity captive ? 
 How long wilt thou forget them, O Lord ? for ever ?" No, 
 saith the voice from heaven, the Avord of divine revelation j 
 the righteous are all prisoners of hope. \\ There is an hour 
 {an awful secret that, and known only to all-foreseeing 
 Wisdom), an appointed hour there is, when an act of grace 
 will pass the great seal above, and give them an universal 
 discharge, a general delivery from the abodes of corruption. 
 Then shall the Lord Jesus descend from heaven, with the 
 shout of the archangel and the trump of God. Destruction 
 itself shall hear his call, and the obedient grave give up her 
 dead. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, they shake 
 off the sleep of ten thousand years, and spring forth, like 
 the bounding roe, to '' meet their Lord in the air." 
 
 And O ! with what cordial congratulations, what trans- 
 
 * Phil. i. 23. 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8. 
 
 t 2 Pet. i. 14. + Isa. xi. 8. 
 
 § Acts, xxn'iii. 35. i| Zech. ix. 12. 
 
 F 
 
66 MEDITATIONS 
 
 porting endearments, do the soul and body, those affec-* 
 tionate companions, re-unite ! But with how much greater 
 demonstrations of kindness are they both received by their 
 compassionate Redeemer ! The Ancient of days, who comes 
 in the clouds of heaven, is their friend, their father, their 
 bridegroom. He comes with irresistible power and infinite 
 glory, but they have nothing to fear from his majestic ap- 
 pearance. Those tremendous solemnities, which spread de- 
 solation and astonishment through the universe, serve only 
 to inflame their love, and heighten their hopes. The Judge, 
 the awful Judge, amidst all his magnificence and splendour, 
 vouchsafes to confess their names, vouchsafes to comme- 
 morate their fidelity, before all the inhabitants of the skies, 
 and the whole assembled world. 
 
 Hark ! the thunders are hushed. See ! the lightnings 
 cease their rage. The angelic armies stand in silent sus- 
 pense. The whole race of Adam is wrapped in pleasing or 
 anxious expectation. And now, that adorable Person, whose 
 favour is better than life, whose acceptance is a crown of 
 glory, lifts up the light of his countenance upon the righteous 5 
 he speaks, and what ravishing words proceed from his gra- 
 cious lips ! what ecstasies of delight they enkindle in the 
 breasts of the faithful ! ^' I accept you^ O my people ! Ye 
 are they that believed in my name. Ye are they that re- 
 nounced yourselves, and are complete in me. I see no spot 
 or blemish in you, for ye are washed in my blood, and 
 clothed with my righteousness. Renewed by my Spirit, ye 
 have glorified me on earth, and have been faithful unto 
 death. Come then, ye servants of holiness, enter into the 
 joy of your Lord. Come, ye children of light, ye blessed 
 of my Father, receive the kingdom that shall never be re- 
 moved, wear the crown which fadeth not away, and enjoy 
 pleasures for evermore !" 
 
 Then, it will be one of the smallest privileges of the 
 righteous, that they shall languish no more j that sickness 
 will never again show her pale countenance in their dwell- 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 67 
 
 ings.* Death itself will be ^' swallowed up in victory." 
 That fatal javelin^ which has drank the blood of monarchs, 
 and finds its way to the hearts of all the sons of Adam, 
 shall be utterly broken. That enormous sitlie, which has 
 struck empires from their root, and swept ages and genera- 
 tions into oblivion^ shall lie by in perpetual uselessness. 
 Sin also, which filled thy quiver, thou insatiate archer ! — > 
 sin, which stnmg thy arm with resistless vigour 3 which 
 pointed all thy shafts with inevitable destruction — sin. 
 will then be done away. Whatever is frail or depraved 
 will be thrown off with our grave-clothes. All to come is 
 perfect holiness, and consummate happiness, the term of 
 whose continuance is eternity. 
 
 O eternity ! eternity ! how are our boldest, our strongest 
 thoughts, lost and overwhelmed in thee ! ^\Tio can set 
 landmarks to limit thy dimensions, or find plummets to 
 fathom thy depths ? Arithmeticians have figures to com- 
 pute all the progressions of time ; astronomers have in- 
 struments to calculate the distances of the planets ; but 
 what numbers can state, what lines can gauge, the lengths 
 and breadths of eternity ? ^' It is higher than heaven, 
 what canst thou do ? deeper than hell, what canst thou 
 know ? the measure thereof is longer than the earth, 
 broader than the sea."^ 
 
 Mysterious, miglity existence ! a sum not to be lessened 
 by the largest deductiotis ! an extent not to be contracted 
 by all possible diminutions ! None can truly say, after 
 the most prodigious waste of ages, *' So much of eternity 
 is gone j" for, when millions of centuries are elapsed, it 
 is but just commencing; and, when millions more have 
 
 * Isaiah, speaking of the new Jerusalem, mentions this as one 
 of its immunities : The inhabitants thereof shall no more say, I am 
 sick. Another clause in its royal charter runs thus : God shall tvipe 
 away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, 
 neither sorrow, nor crying, tieither shall there be any mere pain, 
 Isa. xxxiii. 24. Rev. xxi. 4. 
 
 * Job, ^. 8, 9. 
 
 F 2 
 
6s MEDITATIONS 
 
 run their ample round, it will be no nearer ending. Yea, 
 when ages, numerous as the bloom of spring, increased 
 by the herbage of summer, both augmented by the leaves 
 of autumn, and all multiplied by the drops of rain which 
 drown the winter — when these, and ten thousand times 
 ten thousand more — more than can be represented by 
 any similitude^ or imagined by any conception — when all 
 these are revolved and finished, eternity, vast, boundless^ 
 amazing eternity, will only be beginning ! 
 
 What a pleasing, yet awful thought is this ! full of 
 delight, and full of dread. O ! may it alarm our fears, 
 quicken our hopes, and animate all our endeavours ! Since 
 we are so soon to launch into this endless and incon- 
 ceivable state, let us give all diligence to secure our 
 entrance into bliss. Now, let us give all diligence, be-r 
 cause there is no alteration in the scenes of futurity. 
 The wheel never turns : all is steadfast and immoveable 
 beyond the grave. Whether we are then seated on the 
 throne, or stretched on the rack ; a seal will be set to 
 our condition by the hand of everlasting mercy or inflexible 
 justice. The saints always rejoice amidst the smiles of 
 Heaven ; their harps are perpetually tuned ; their triumphs 
 admit of no interruption. The ruin of the ivicked is 
 irremediable. The fatal sentence, once passed, is never 
 to be repealed. No hope of exchanging their doleful 
 habitations j but all things bear the same dismal aspect 
 for ever and ever. 
 
 The ivicked! my mind recoils* at the apprehension 
 of their misery. It has studiously waved the fearful sub- 
 ject, and seems unwilling to pursue it, even now. But 
 'tis better to reflect upon it for a few minutes, than to 
 endure it to eternal ages. Perhaps the consideration of 
 their aggravated misery may be jwofitably terrible ; may 
 teach me more highly to prize the Saviour, who ^^ delivers 
 
 * —' Animus meminisse horret, luctuquerefugit, — Virg, 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 69 
 
 from going down into the bottomless pit 3" may drive me, 
 like the avenger's sword, to this only city of refuge for 
 obnoxious sinners. 
 
 The wicked seem to lie here, like malefactors, in a deep 
 and strong dungeon, reserved against the day of trial, 
 '' Their departure was without peace." Clouds of horror 
 sat louring upon their closing eye-lids, most sadly fore- 
 boding the '^ blackness of darkness for ever." WTien the 
 last sickness seized their frame, and the inevitable change 
 advanced 3 when they saw the fatal arrow fitting to the 
 strings, saw the deadly archer aiming at their heart, and 
 felt the envenomed shaft fastened in their vitals — good 
 God ! what fearfulness came upon them ! "NVliat horrible 
 dread overwhelmed them ! How did they stand shuddering 
 and aghast upon the tremendous precipice ! excessively 
 afraid to plunge into the abyss of eternity, yet utterly 
 unable to maintain their standing on the verge of life. 
 
 O ! what pale reviews, what startling prospects conspire 
 to augment their sorrows ! They look backward, and be- 
 hold! a most melancholy scene! sins uurepented ofj 
 mercy slighted -, and the day of grace ending ! They 
 look forward, and nothing presents itself but the righteous 
 Judge ', the dreadful tribunal ; and a most solemn reckon- 
 ing. They roll around their afiiighted eyes on attending 
 friends. If accomplices in debauchery, it sharpens their 
 anguish to consider this farther aggravation of their guilt, 
 that they have not sinned alone, but drawn others into 
 the snare. If religious acquaintance, it strikes a fresh 
 gash into their hearts, to think of never seeing them any 
 more, but only at an unapproachable distance, separated 
 by the unpassable gulf. 
 
 At last, perhaps, they begin to pray. Finding no other 
 possible way of relief, they are constrained to apply unto 
 the Almighty. With trembling lips and a faltering tongue 
 they cry unto that sovereign Being, '' who kills and makes 
 alive." But why have they deferred, so long deferred. 
 
fO MEDITATIONS 
 
 their addresses to God ? Why have they despised all his 
 counsels, and stood incorrigible under his incessant re- 
 proofs ? How often have they been forewarned of these 
 terrors, and most importunately entreated to seek the 
 Lord while he might be found ? I wish they may obtain 
 mercy at the eleventh, at the last hour. I wish they may 
 be snatched from the jaws, the opened, the gaping, the 
 almost closing jaws of damnation. But, alas ! who can 
 tell whether affronted Majesty will lend an ear to their 
 complaint? whether the Holy One will work a miracle 
 of grace in behalf of such transgressors ? He may, for 
 aught any mortal knows, ^'^ laugh at their calamity, and 
 mock when their fear cometh." 
 
 Thus they lie, groaning out the poor remains of life -, 
 their limbs bathed in sweat j their heart struggling with 
 convulsive throes ; pains insupportable throbbing in every 
 pulse J and innumerable darts of agony transfixing their 
 conscience. 
 
 In that dread moment, how the frantic soul 
 Raves round the walla of her clay tenement ; 
 Runs to each avenue ; and shrieks for help ; 
 But shrieks in vain ! How wishfully she looks 
 On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! 
 A little longer, yet a little longer, 
 O ! might she stay, to wash avs^ay her crimes. 
 And fit her for her passage ! Mournful sight ! 
 Her very eyes weep blood ; and every groan 
 She heaves, is big with horror ; but the foe. 
 Like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose. 
 Pursues her close through every lane of life. 
 Nor misses once the track ; but presses on ; 
 Till, forced at last to the tremendous verge. 
 At once she sinks. — * 
 
 If this be the end of the ungodly, ^' my soul, come not 
 thou into their secret ! unto their assembly, mine honour, 
 be not thou united!" How awfully accomplished is that 
 prediction of inspired wisdom ! Sin, though seemingly 
 
 * See a valuable poem, entitled The Grave. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 71 
 
 sweet in the commission, yet at the last it hiteth like a 
 serpent, and stingeth like an adder. Fly, therefore, from 
 the tents, O ! fly from the ways, of such wretched men. 
 
 Happy dissolution ! were this the period of their woes. 
 But, alas ! all these tribulations are only the beginning 
 of sorroivs ,• a small drop only from that '^ cup of trem- 
 bling," which is mingled for their future portion. No 
 sooner has the last pang dislodged their reluctant souls, 
 but they are hurried into the presence of an injured angry 
 God J not under the conducting care of beneficent angels, 
 but exposed to the insults of accursed spirits, who lately 
 tempted them, now upbraid them, and will for ever tor- 
 ment them. Wh^o can imagine their confusion and distress, 
 when they stand guilty and inexcusable before their in- 
 censed Creator ? They are received with frowns. The 
 God that made them has no '"^ mercy on them."* The 
 Prince of Peace rejects them with abhorrence. He con- 
 signs them over to chains of darkness and receptacles of 
 despair, against the severer doom and more public infamy - 
 of the great day. Then, all the vials of wrath will be 
 emptied upon these wretched creatures. The law they 
 have violated, and the Gospel they have slighted 5 the 
 power they have defied, and the goodness they have 
 abused ; will all get themselves honour in their exemplary 
 destruction. Then God, the God to whom vengeance 
 belongeth, will draw the arrow to the very head, and set 
 them as the mark of his inexorable displeasure. 
 
 Resurrection will be no privilege to them ; but immor- 
 tality itself their everlasting curse. Would they not bless 
 the grave, ^^that land where all things are forgotten," and 
 wish to lie eternally hid in its deepest gloom ? But the 
 dust refuses to conceal their persons, or to draw a veil 
 over their practices. They also must awake 5 must arise j 
 must appear at the bar, and meet the Judge 3 a Judge, 
 
 * Isaiah, xx^ii, 11. 
 
72 MEDITATIONS 
 
 before whom '' the pillars of heaven tremble, and the 
 earth melts away 5" a Judge, once long-suffering and very 
 compassionate, but now unalterably determined to teach 
 stubborn offenders what it is to provoke the Omnipotent 
 Godhead J what it is to trample upon the blood of his 
 Son, and offer despite to all the gracious overtures of hia 
 Spirit. 
 
 O ! the perplexity ! the distraction, that must seize the 
 impenitent rebels when they are summoned to the great 
 tribunal ! What will they do in this day of severe visita- 
 tion, this day of final decision ? Where ? how ? whence 
 can they find help ? To which of the saints will they 
 turn ? Whither betake themselves for shelter or for suc- 
 cour ? Alas ! 'tis all in vain ! 'tis all too late. Friends 
 and acquaintance know them no more ; men and angels 
 abandon them to their approaching doom ; even the Me- 
 diator, the Mediator himself, deserts them in this dread- 
 ful hour. To////, will be impracticable: to justify them- 
 selves, still more impossible 3 and now, to make any sup- 
 plications, utterly unavailable. 
 
 Behold ! the books are opened ; the secrets of all hearts 
 are disclosed ; the hidden things of darkness are brought 
 to light. How empty, how ineffectual now, are all those 
 refined artifices, with which hypocrites imposed upon 
 their fellow-creatures, and preserved a character in the 
 sight of men ! The jealous God, who has been about their 
 path, and about their bed, and 'spied out all their ways, 
 sets before them the things that they have done. They 
 cannot answer him one in a thousand, nor stand in the 
 awful judgment. The heavens reveal their iniquities, and 
 the earth rises up against them.* They are speechless 
 with guilt, and stigmatized with infamy before all the 
 armies of the sky and all the nations of the redeemed. 
 What a favour would they esteem it, to hide their ashamed 
 
 = *Job, XX. 27. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 73 
 
 heads in the bottom of the ocean, or even to be buried 
 beneath the ruins of the tottering workl ! 
 
 If the contempt poured upon them be thus insupportable, 
 how will their hearts endure, when the sword of infinite 
 indignation is unsheathed, and fiercely waved around their 
 defenceless heads, or pointed directly at their naked 
 breasts ! How must the wTetches scream with wild amaze- 
 ment, and rend the very heavens with their cries, when 
 the right-aiming thunderbolts go abroad ! — go abroad with 
 a dreadful commission to drive them from the kingdoms 
 of glory, and plunge them, not into the sorrows of a 
 moment, or the tortures of an hour, but into all the restless 
 agonies of unquenchable fire and everlasting despair.* 
 
 Misery of miseries ! too shocking for reflection to dwell 
 upon. But if so dismal to foresee, and that at a distance^ 
 together with some comfortable expectation of escaping it^ 
 O ! how bitter, inconceivably bitter, to hear, without any 
 intermission, or any mitigation, through hopeless and eter- 
 nal ages ! 
 
 Wlio has any bowels of pity ? Who has any sentiments 
 of compassion ? Who has any tender concern for his 
 fellow-creatures ? Who ? — in God's name and for Christ's 
 sake, let him show it, by warning every man, and beseech- 
 ing every man, to seek the Lord while he may be found, to 
 throw down the arms of rebellion before the act of indem- 
 nity expires, submissively to adore the Lamb, while he 
 .holds out the golden sceptre. Here, let us act the friendly 
 part to mankind ; here, let the whole force of our benevo- 
 lence exert itself, in exhorting relations, acquaintance, 
 neighbours, whomsoever we may probably influence, to 
 • take the wings of faith unfeigned, of repentance undelayed, 
 and flee away from this wrath to come. 
 
 * Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 
 And rest' can never dwell : hope never comes 
 That comes to all ; but torture witliout end 
 Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed 
 With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.'^MiLTON. 
 
74 MEDITATIONS 
 
 Upon the wliole^ what stupendous discoveries are these ! 
 Lay them up in a faithful remembrance^ O my soul ; re- 
 collect them with the most serious attention, when thou 
 iiest down, and when thou risest up j when thou walkest, 
 receive them for thy companions ; when thou talkest, listen 
 to them as thy prompters ; and whatever thou doest, con- 
 sult them as thy directors. Influenced by these considera- 
 tions, thy views \vill greaten, thy affections be exalted, 
 and thou thyself raised above the tantalizing power of 
 perishing things. Duly mindful of these, it will be the 
 sum of thy desires and the scope of thy endeavours, to 
 gain the approbation of that Sovereign Being who will 
 then fill the throne and pronounce the decisive sentence 5 
 thou wilt see nothing worth a wish,* in comparison of 
 having his will for thy rule, his glory for thy aim, and his 
 Holy Spirit for thy ever actuating principle. 
 
 Wonder^ O man j be lost in admiration at those pro- 
 digious events which are coming upon the universe j events, 
 the greatness of which nothing finite can measure j such 
 as will cause whatever is considerable or momentous in 
 the annals of all generations to sink into littleness and 
 nothing 3 events (Jesus prepare us for their approach, 
 defend us when they take place !) big with the everlasting 
 fates of all the living and the dead. I must see the graves 
 cleaving, the sea teeming, and swarms unsuspected, 
 crowds unnumbered, yea, multitudes of throtiging nations^ 
 rising from both : I must see the world in flames, must 
 stand at the dissolution of all terrestrial things, and be an 
 attendant on the burial of nature : I must see the vast 
 expanse of the sky wrapt up like a scroll, and the incarnate 
 God issuing forth from light inaccessible, with ten thousand 
 times ten thousand angels, to judge both men and deviis : 
 
 * Great day of dread, decision, and despair ! 
 At tlioiight of thee, each sublunary wish 
 Lets go its eager grasp, and quits the world. 
 
 Night Thoughts. 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS. 75 
 
 I must see the curtain of time drop, see all eternity dis- 
 closed to view, and enter upon a state of being that will 
 never, never have an end. 
 
 And ought I not (let the vainest imagination determine, 
 ought I not) to try the sincerity of my faith, and take 
 heed to my ways r Is there an inquiry, is there a carCj 
 of greater, of equal, of comparable importance ? Is not 
 this an infinitely pressing call, to see that my loins are 
 girded about, my lamp trimmed, and myself dressed for 
 the bridegroom's appearance ? that, washed in the foun- 
 tain opened in my Saviour's side, and clad with the 
 marriage-garment wove by his obedience, I may be found 
 in peace, unblameable, and unreprovable. Otherwise, how 
 shall I stand with boldness when the stars of heaven fall 
 from their orbs ? How shall I come forth erect and cou^ 
 rageouSy when the earth itself i-eels to and fro like a 
 drunkard?* How shall I look up with joy, and see my 
 salvation drawing nigh, when the hearts of millions and 
 millions fail for fear ? 
 
 Now, madam, lest my meditations set in a cloud, and 
 leave any unpleasing gloom upon your mind, let me once 
 more turn to the brightening jwospects of the righteous. 
 A \iew of them and their delightful expectations may 
 serve to exhilarate the thoughts, which have been musing 
 upon melancholy subjects, and hovering about the edges 
 of infernal darkness j just as a spacious field, arrayed in 
 cheerful green, relieves and reinvigorates the eye which 
 has fatigued itself by poring upon some minute, or gazing 
 upon some glaring object. 
 
 The righteous seem to lie by, in the bosom of the earth, 
 as a weary pilot in some well-sheltered creek, till all the 
 storms which infest this lower world are blown over ; 
 here they enjoy safe anchorage, are in no danger oi founder- 
 ing amidst the waves of prevailing iniquity, or of beine 
 
 * Isaiah, xxiv. 20. 
 
76 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 
 
 shipwrecked on the rocks of any powerful temptation'. 
 But ere long we shall behold them hoisting their flag of 
 hope, riding before a sweet gale of atoning merit and 
 redeeming love ; till they make, with all the sails of an 
 assured faith, the blessed port of eternal life. 
 
 Then^ may the honoured friend to whom I am writing, 
 rich in good works, rich in heavenly tempers, but inex- 
 pressibly richer in her Saviour's righteousness, O! may 
 she enter the harbour, like a gallant stately vessel, re- 
 turned successful and victorious from some grand expe- 
 dition, with acclamations, honour, and joy ! while my 
 little bark, attendant on the solemnity, and a partaker 
 of the triumph, glides humbly after, and both rest together 
 in the haven, the wished-for, blissful haven, of perfect 
 security and everlasting repose. 
 
REFLECTIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 A FLOWER-GARDEN. 
 
 I look upon the pleasure, which we take in a Garden, as one of the 
 most innocent delights in human life. A Garden was the habita- 
 tion of our first parents before the fall. It is naturally apt to fill 
 the mind with calmness and tranquillity, and to lay all its turbulent 
 passions at rest. It gives us a great insight into the contrivance 
 and wisdom of Providence, and suggests innumerable subjects for 
 meditation. 
 
 Spect. vol. vii. N** 477. 
 
REFLECTIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 A FLOWER-GARDEN, 
 
 IN A LETTER TO A LADY. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 Some time ago, my meditations took a turn among tlie 
 tombs: they visited the awful and melancholy mansions of 
 the dead ; * and you was pleased to favour them with your 
 attention. May I now beg the honour of your company in 
 a more inviting and delightful excursion? — in a beautiful 
 /lower-garden, where I lately walked, and at once regaled 
 the sense and indulged the fancy. 
 
 It was early in a summer morning, when the air was cool, 
 the earth moist, the whole face of the creation fresh and 
 gay. The noisy world Avas scarce awake : business had not 
 quite shook off his sound sleep, and riot had but just re- 
 clined his giddy head. All was serene, all was still j every 
 thing tended to inspire tranquillity of mind, and invite to 
 serious thought. 
 
 * " Discourses on the va7iiti/ of the creature, which represent the 
 barrenness of every thing in this world, and its incapacity of pro- 
 ducing any solid or substantial happiness, are useful. Those specu- 
 lations also, which show the bright side of things, and lay forth those 
 innocent entertainments which are to be met with among the several 
 objects that encompass us, are no less beneficial." Sped. Vol. V. No 
 393. Upon the plan of these observatiom the preceding and following 
 reflections are formed. 
 
80 REFLECTIONS 
 
 Only the wakeful lark had left her nest, and was mount- 
 ing on high to salute the opening day. Elevated in air, she 
 seemed to call the laborious husbandman to his toil, and all 
 her fellow-songsters to their notes. Earliest of birds, said 
 I, companion of the dawn, may I always rise at thy voice ! 
 rise to offer the matin-song, and adore that beneficent Being, 
 " who maketh the outgoings of the morning and evening to 
 rejoice." 
 
 How charming to rove abroad at this sweet hour oi prune, 
 to enjoy the calm of nature, to tread the dewy lawns^ and 
 taste the unrifled freshness of the air ! 
 
 Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet. 
 With charm of earliest birds. 
 
 What a pleasure do the sons of sloth lose ! Little, ah ! 
 little is the sluggard sensible how delicious an entertain- 
 ment he foregoes, for the poorest of all animal gratifica- 
 tions.* 
 
 The grayness of the dawn decays gradually. Abundance 
 of ruddy streaks tinge the fleeces of the firmament, till at 
 length the dappled aspect of the east is lost in one ardent 
 and boundless blush. Is it the surmise of imagination, or 
 do the skies really redden with shame, to see so many su- 
 pinely stretched on their drowsy pillows ? Shall man be 
 lost in luxurious ease ? Shall man waste these precious 
 hours in idle slumbers, while the vigorous sun is up, and 
 
 * See ! how revelation and reason, the Scriptures and the classics, 
 unanimously exhort to this most beneficial practice. Tliey both invite 
 us to early rising by the most engaging motives and tlie most alluring 
 representations. 
 
 ComCy my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the 
 villages. Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see if the vine 
 flourish, whether the tender grape appear, mid the pomegranates bud 
 forth. Cant. vii. 11, 12. 
 
 Luciferi primo cum sidere, frigida rura 
 Carpamus: dum mane novum, dum gramina canent, 
 Et ros in tenera pecori gratissimus herha est. 
 
 ViRG, Georg. III. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 81 
 
 going on his Maker's errand ? while all the feathered choir 
 are hjmming the Creator, and paying their homage in har- 
 mony ? No ; let /iim heighten the melody of the tuneful 
 tribes by adding the rational strains of devotion 5 let him 
 improve the fragrant oblations of nature by mingling with 
 the rising odours the more r.efined breath of praise. 
 
 'Tis natural for man to look upwards, to throw his first 
 glance upon the objects that are above him. 
 
 Straight towards heaven my wondering eyes I turn'd. 
 And gazed a while the ample sky. 
 
 Prodigious theatre ! where lightnings dart their fire, and 
 thunders utter their voice ; where tempests spend their 
 rage, and worlds unnumbered roll at large ! O the greatness 
 of that mighty hand, which meteth out this amazing circum- 
 ference with a span ! O the imnwns'ify of that wonderful 
 Being, before whom this unmeasurable extent is no more 
 than a point! And O (thou pleasing thought!) the un- 
 searchable riches of that mercy, which is greater than the 
 heavens!'^ is more enlarged and extensive in its gracious 
 exercise^ than these illimitable tracts of air, and sea^ and 
 firmament ! which pardons crimes of the most enormous 
 size and the most horrid aggravations ; pardons them in 
 consideratioii of the Redeemer's atonement, with perfect 
 freeness and the utmost readiness ! more readily, if it were 
 possible, than this all-surrounding ea'panse admits within 
 its circuit a ridge of mountains, or even a grain of sand. 
 
 Come hither, then, ye awakened, trembling sinners ; 
 come,f weary and heavy-laden with a sense of your iniqui- 
 
 * Psal. cviii. 4. 
 
 •f" The lilies which follow are admirably descriptive of the spirit and 
 practice hinted above : in them desire pants, prayer wrestles, and faith 
 as it were grasps the prize. I take leave to transplant them into this 
 place ; and I could wish them a better, a more conspicuous situation, 
 than either their neiv or their native soil. Tlieir native soil is no 
 other than ' The Lamentation of a Sinner,' written by Mr. Stern/iold. 
 Notwithstanding the unpromising genius of the performance, I think 
 we may challenge the greatest masters to produce any thing more 
 
 6 
 
82 REFLECTIONS 
 
 ties : condemn yourselves ; renounce all reliance on any 
 thing of your own 3 let your trust be hi the tender mercy of 
 God for ever and ever. 
 
 In them hath he set a tabernacle for the simJ* Behold 
 him coming forth from the chambers of the east ; see the 
 clouds, like floating curtains, are thrown back at his 
 approach. With what refulgent majesty does he walk 
 abroad ! how transcendently bright is his countenance, 
 shedding day and inexhaustible light through the universe ! 
 Is there a scene, though finished by the most elaborate 
 and costly refinements of art, '^ comparable to these illus- 
 trious solemnities of opening sunshine ? Before these all 
 the studied pageantry of the theatre, the glittering economy 
 of an assembly, or even the heightened ornaments of a 
 royal palace, hide their diminished heads, and shrink into 
 nothing." I have read of a person so struck with the 
 splendours of this noble luminary, that he imagined him- 
 self made on purpose to contemplate its glories. O ! that 
 Christians would adopt his persuasion, and transfer it to 
 the Sun of Righteousness ! Thus applied, it would cease 
 to be a chimerical notion, and become a most important 
 truth. For sure I am, it is the supreme happiness of the 
 eternal state, and therefore may well be the ruling concern 
 of this present life, to hnow the only true God, and Jesus 
 Christ whom he hath sent. Nor do I stand alone in this 
 
 spirited and importunate, more full of nature, or more flushed with 
 life. 
 
 Mercy, good Lord, mercy I crave ; 
 
 This is the total sum ; 
 For mercy, Lord, is all my suit ; 
 
 Lord, let thy mercy come. 
 
 The short sentences, not a single copulative ; the frequent repetition 
 of the divine name ; the almost incessant reiteration of the blessing 
 so passionately desired, and inexpressibly needed; — this is the ge- 
 nuine language of ardour ; these are beauties obvious to every eye, and 
 cannot fail, either to please t\iQ judicious taste, or to edify the gracious 
 heart. 
 * Psal, xix. 4. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 83 
 
 opinion. The very best judge of whatever is valuable in 
 science;, or perfective of our nature j a judge who formed 
 his taste on the maxims of paradise^ and received the 
 finishings of his education in the third heavens j this judge 
 determines to know nothing hut Jesus Christ, and him cru- 
 cified. He possessed in his own person the finest, the 
 most admired accomplishments , yet pronounces them no 
 better than dung, in comparison of the supereminent excel- 
 lency of this saving knowledge.* 
 
 Methinks I discern a thousand admirable properties in 
 the sun. 'Tis certainly the best material emblem of the 
 Creator. There is more of God in its lustre, energy, and 
 usefulness, than in any other visible being. To worship it 
 as a deity was the least inexcusable of all the heathen 
 idolatries. One scarce can wonder that fallen reason 
 should mistake so fair a copy for the adorable Original. 
 No comparison in the whole book of sacred wisdom pleases 
 me more, than that which resembles the blessed Jesus to 
 yonder regent of the day^f who now advances on his 
 azure road to scatter light and dispense gladness through 
 the nations. 
 
 What were all the realms of the world, but a dungeon 
 of darkness, without the beams of the sun ? all their fine 
 scenes hid from our view, lost in obscurity. In vain we 
 roll around our eyes in the midnight gloom : in vain we 
 strive to behold the features of amiable nature. Tarn 
 whither we will, no form or comeliness appears ; all seems 
 a dreary waste, an undistinguished chaos, till the returning 
 hours have unbarred the gates of light, and let forth the 
 morn. Then, what a prospect opens ! The heavens are 
 paved with azure, and strewed with roses. A variety of 
 the liveliest verdures array the plains. The flowers put 
 on a glow of the richest colours. The whole creation 
 
 * To virepiyov rrig yvojerewg. Phil. iii. 8. 
 
 f Unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of Righteousness arise, 
 with healing in his wings. — Mai. iv. 2. 
 
 o2 
 
84 REFLECTIONS 
 
 stands forth, dressed in all the charms of beauty. Tlie 
 ravished eye looks round and wonders. 
 
 And what had been the condition of our intellectual 
 nature without the great Redeemer, and his divine revela- 
 tion ? Alas ! what absurd and unworthy apprehensions 
 did the Pagan sages form of God ! What idle dreams, 
 what childish conjectures, were their doctrines of a future 
 state ! How did the bulk even of that favoured nation, 
 the Jetvs, weary themselves in every vanity to obtain 
 peace and reconciliation with their offended Jehovah ! 
 till Jesus arose upon our benighted minds, and brought 
 life and immortality to light ; till he arose to enlighten the 
 wretched Gentiles, and to be the glory of his people Israel. 
 
 Now we no longer cry out with a restless impatience. 
 Where is God my Maker ? for we are allowed to contem-r 
 plate the brightness of his glory, and the express image 
 of his person, in the face of Jesus Christ. Now we no 
 longer inquire, with an unsatisfied solicitude, '' Which is 
 the way to bliss ?" because Jesus has marked the path 
 by his shining example, and left us an unerring clew in 
 his holy word. Now, we have no more reason to proceed 
 with misgiving hearts in our journey to eternity, or to ask 
 anxiously as we go, " Vvlio will roll away the stone and 
 open the everlasting doors ? Who will remove the flaming 
 sword, and give us admission into the delights of Para- 
 dise V for it is done, all done, by the Captain of our 
 salvation. Sin he has expiated by the unblemished sacri- 
 fice of himself: the law he has fulfilled by his perfect 
 obedience : the sinner he transforms by his sanctifying 
 Spirit : in a word, he hath both presented us with a clear 
 discovery of good things to come, and administered to us 
 an abundant entrance into the final enjoyment of them. 
 
 ^Vhenever, therefore, we bless God for the circling 
 seasons and revolving day, let us adore, thankfully adore 
 liim, for the more precious appearance of the Sun of 
 Righteousness, and his glorious Gospel^ without which 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 85 
 
 we should have been groping, even to this hour^ in spiritual 
 darkness and the shadow of death j without which we 
 must have wandered in a maze of inextricable uncertain- 
 ties, and have ^' stumbled upon the dark mountains" of 
 error, till we fell into the bottomless pit of perdition. 
 
 TVithout that grand enlivening principle, what were 
 this earth, but a lifeless mass, a rude lump of inactive 
 ' matter ? The trees could never break forth into leaves, 
 nor the plants spring up into flowers : we should no more 
 behold the meadows mantled over with green, nor the 
 valleys standing thick with corn : or, to speak in the 
 beautiful language of a prophet, " No longer would the 
 fig-tree blossom, nor fruit he in the vine ^ the labour of 
 the olive ivould fail, and the fields could yield no meat ; 
 the flocks must be cut off from the fold, and there would 
 be no herd in the stalls.* The sun darts its beams among 
 all the vegetable tribes, and paints the spring and enriches 
 the autumn : this pierces to the roots of the vineyard and 
 the orchard, and sets afloat those fermenting juices wliicli 
 at length ^burst into floods of wine, or bend the boughs 
 with a mellow load. Nor are its favours confined to the 
 vpper regions, but distributed into the deepest recesses 
 of creation. It penetrates the beds of metal, and finds 
 its way to the place of the sapphires : it tinctures the 
 seeds of gold that are ripening into ore, and throws a 
 brilliancy into the water of the diamond that is hardening 
 on its rock : in short, the beneficial agency of this mag- 
 nificent luminary is inexpressible j it beautifies and impreg- 
 nates universal nature 3 " there is nothing hid from the 
 heat thereof." 
 
 Just in the same manner were the rational world dead 
 in trespasses and sins, without the reviving energy of Jesus 
 Christ. He is the ''Resurrection and the Life/' the 
 overflowing fountain of the one, and the all-powerful cause 
 
 * Hab. iii. 17, 
 
S6 REFLECTIONS 
 
 of the other. The second u4dam is a quickening Spirit, 
 and all his saints live through him. He shines upon their 
 aifectionS;, and they shoot forth into heavenly graces, and 
 abound in the fruits of righteousness. Faith unfeigned, 
 and love undissembled, those noblest productions of the 
 renewed nature, are the effects of his operation on the 
 mind. Not so much as one divine disposition could spread 
 itself, not one Christian habit unfold and flourish, without 
 the kindly influences of his grace. 
 
 As there is no fruitfulness, so likewise no cheerfulness, 
 without the sun.* Wlien that auspicious sovereign of the 
 day diffuses the mildness of his morning splendour, he 
 creates an universal festival. Millions of glittering insects 
 awake into existence, and bask in his rays : the birds start 
 from their slumbers, and pour their delighted souls in 
 harmony: the flocks with bleating accents hail the wel- 
 come blessing l the valleys ring with rural music ^ the 
 hills echo back the artless strains : all that is vocal joins 
 in the general choir -, all that has breath exults in the 
 cheering influence. "^Vhereas, was that radiant orb ex- 
 tinguished, a tremendous gloom would ensue, and horror 
 insupportable. Nay, let it only be eclipsed for a few mi- 
 nutes, and all nature assumes an air of sadness : the hea- 
 vens are wrapped in sables, and put on a kind of mourn- 
 ing J the most sprightly animals hang down their dejected 
 heads j the songsters of the grove are struck dumb 3 howl- 
 ing beasts roam abroad for prey ; ominous birds come 
 forth and screech j the heart of man fails, or a sudden 
 pang seizes the foreboding mind. So, when Christ hides 
 away his face, when faith loses sight of that consolation of 
 Israeli how gloomy are the prospects of the soul! Our 
 God seems to be a consuming fire, and our sins cry loudly 
 for vengeance : the thoughts bleed inwardly ; the Christian 
 
 « " The sun, which is the great soul of the universe, and produces 
 all the necessaries of life, has a particular influence in cheering the 
 mind of man and making the heart glad"-^Spect. vol, v. N" 387. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. S? 
 
 walks heavily J all without is irksome^ all within is dis- 
 consolate. Lift np then, most gracious Jesus, thou nobler 
 day-spring from on high ! O lift up the light of thy coun- 
 tenance upon thy people ! Reveal the fulness of thy me- 
 diatorial sufficiency; make clear our title to this great 
 salvation, and thereby impart 
 
 What nothing earthly gives or can destroy, 
 
 The soul's cahn sunshine, and the heart-felt joy.* 
 
 In one instance more let me pursue the similitude. The 
 sun, I observe, pours his lustre all around, to every dis- 
 tance and in every direction : profusely liberal of his gifts, 
 he illuminates and cheers all the ends of the earth and 
 the whole compass of the skies ; the east reddens with his 
 rising radiance, and the western hills are gilded with his 
 streaming splendours 3 the chilly regions of the north are 
 cherished by his genial warmth, while the southern tracts 
 glow with his fire. Thus are the influences of the Sun 
 of Righteousness diffusive and unconfined ; the generations 
 of old felt them, and generations yet unborn will rejoice 
 in them ; the merits of his precious death extended to 
 the first, and will be propagated to the last ages of man- 
 kind. May they, ere long, visit the remotest climates 
 and darkest corners of the earth ! Command thy Gospel, 
 blessed Jesus, thy everlasting Gospel, to take the wings 
 of the morning and travel with yonder sun ; let it fly upon 
 strong pinions among every people, nation, and language ; 
 that where the heat scorches and the cold freezes, thou 
 mayst be known, confessed, and adored ! that strangers 
 to thy name, and enemies to thy doctrine, may be enlight- 
 ened with the knowledge and won to the love of thy truth ! 
 O ! may that best of aeras come, that wished-for period 
 advance, when all the ends of the ivorld shall remember 
 themselves and be turned unto the Lord, and all the kind' 
 reds of the nations worship before him !\ 
 
 * Pope's Eth. Ep. t Psal. xxii. 27. 
 
88 REFLECTIONS 
 
 From the heavens we retire to the earth. Here the 
 drops of dew, like so many liquid crystals^,"^ sparkle upon 
 the eye. How brilliant and unsullied is their lustre ! How 
 little inferior to the proud stone which irradiates a mo- 
 narch's crown ! They want nothing but solidity and per- 
 manency to equal them with the finest treasures of the 
 jeweller's casket. Here, it must be confessed, they are 
 greatly deficient. Short-lived ornaments, possessed of little 
 more than a momentary radiance ; the sun that lights them 
 up will soon melt them into air, or exhale them into 
 vapours 3 within another hour we may '' look for their 
 place, and they shall be away." O ! may every good 
 resolution of mine and of my flock's, may our united breath- 
 ings after God, not be like these transient decorations of 
 the morning, but like the substantial glory of the growing 
 day ! The one shines more and more with augmented 
 splendours 5 while the other, having glittered gaily for a 
 few moments, disappear and are lost. 
 
 How sensibly has this dew refreshed the vegetable king- 
 dom ! The fervent heat of yesterday's sun had almost 
 parched the face and exhausted the sweets of nature. But 
 what a sovereign restorative are these cooling distillations 
 of the night ! How they gladden and invigorate the lan- 
 guishing herbs ! Sprinkled with these reviving drops, 
 their verdure deepens, their bloom is new flushed 3 their 
 fragrance, faint or intermitted, becomes potent and copious. 
 Thus does the ever-blessed Spirit revive the drooping 
 troubled conscience of a sinner. When that Almighty 
 Comforter sheds his sweet influence on the soul, displays 
 the all-sufficient sacrifice of a Divine Redeemer, and '' wit- 
 nesses with our spirit," that we are interested in the 
 Saviour, and by this means are children of God; then 
 what a pleasing change ensues ! Former anxieties are 
 
 * Now morn, her rosy steps in th' Eastern clime 
 Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl. — Mii^ton, 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 89 
 
 remembered no more -, every uneasy apprehension vanishes ; 
 soothing hopes and delightful expectations succeed ; the 
 countenance drops its dejected mien 3 the eyes brighten 
 with a lively cheerfulness ; while the lips express the 
 heart-felt satisfaction in the language of thanksgiving and 
 the voice of melody. In this sense^ merciful God, be as 
 the dew unto Israel ! " Pour upon them the continual 
 dew of thy blessing." And O ! let not my fleece be dry, 
 while heavenly benediction descends upon all around. 
 
 Who can number these pearly drops ? They hang on 
 every hedge, they twinkle from every spray, and adorn 
 the whole herbage of the field. Not a blade of grass, not 
 a single leaf, but wears the watery pendants j so vast is 
 \hQ profusion, that it baffles the arithmetician's art. Here 
 let the benevolent mind contemplate and admire that em- 
 phatical Scripture, which from this elegant similitude de- 
 scribes the increase of the Messiah's kingdom. The royal 
 prophet, speaking of Christ, and foretelling the success of 
 his religion, has this remarkable expression 3 -^ '' the dew 
 
 * Psalm, ex. 3. ']rnV ^10 ^V inirD EZDHID. Tlie most exact 
 transiatlou of this difticult passage is, I apprehend, as follows ; Prce 
 rore uteri aurorcB, tibi est ros juventutis, vel prolls tiice : The dew of 
 thy birth is larger, more copious, than the dew which proceeds from 
 the womb of the morning. I cannot acquiesce in the new version, 
 because that disjoins the tvomb of the morning from the dew of thy 
 birth ; whereas they seem to have a clear affinity and a close connec- 
 tion. The womb of the morning is, Avith the utmost pertinency, 
 applied to the conception and production of dews, agreeably to a 
 delicate line, in that great master of just description and lively paint- 
 ing, Mr. Thomson : 
 
 The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews. 
 
 Summer. 
 We meet with a fine expression in the book of Job, which may 
 seiTe to confirm this remark, and illustrate the propriety of the 
 phrase used in this connection : " Hath the rain a father, or who 
 hath begotten the drops of dew .<"' It seems the Oriental writers de- 
 lighted to represent the dew as a kind of birth, as the offspring of 
 the morning ; and if so, surely there could be no image in the whole 
 compass of the universe better adapted to the Psalmist's purpose, 
 ov more strongly significant of those multitudes of proselytes which 
 
§0 REFLECTIONS 
 
 of thy birth is of the womb of the morning: (i.e.) As the 
 morning is the mother of dews^ produces them as it were 
 from a prolific womb^ and scatters them with the most 
 
 were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of 
 man, but of God; by the powerful energy of his word and Spirit. 
 Upon this supposition, the whole verse describes. 
 
 The willing subjection, T 
 
 The gracious accomplishments, > of Christ's converts. 
 
 And the vast number, J 
 
 q. d. In the day of thy power, when thy glorious Gospel shall be 
 published in the world, and accompanied with marvellous efficacy — 
 in that memorable period, thy people, discontinuing the former ob- 
 lations commanded under the Mosaic law, shall devote themselves as 
 so many living sacrifices to thy honour. Not constrained by force, 
 but charmed with thy excellency, they shall come in volunteers to 
 thy seiTice, and be free-will offerings in thy church. Neither shall 
 they be " empty vines," or bare professors, but shall walk in all the 
 beauties of holiness, and bring forth such amiable fruit as will adorn 
 the doctrine they embrace. WTiat is still more desirable, they shall 
 be as numerous as they are willing and holy ; born to ,Thee in num- 
 bers immense and inconceivable, exceeding even the countless my- 
 riads of dew-drops which are begotten by the night and issue from 
 the womb of the recent morning. 
 
 By this interpretation, the text, I think, is cleared of its obscurity, 
 and appears both truly sublime and perfectly just. 
 
 INIay I be pardoned the digression, and acquitted from presumption, 
 if on this occasion I take leave to animadvert upon what seems 
 harsh and unnatural in the common exposition of the last verse of 
 this psalm } All the commentators (as many at least as I have con- 
 sulted) inform their readers, that to drink of the brook in the way, 
 signifies to undergo sufferings and death; which, in my opinion, 
 is a construction extremely forced and hardly supportable ; alto- 
 gether remote from the import of such poetical forms of diction 
 customary among the Eastern nations. In those sultry climes nothing, 
 could be more welcome to the traveller than a brook streaming near 
 his paths. To quench his thirst, and lave his feet in the cooling 
 current, was one of the greatest refreshments imaginable, and re- 
 animated him to pursue his journey ; for which reason, among 
 others, brooks are a very favourite image with the inspired penmen, 
 used to denote a situation fertile and delightful, or a state of pleasure 
 and satisfaction : but never, that I can recollect, to picture out the 
 contrary condition of tribulation and distress. 
 
 The water-floods, indeed, in the sacred writings, often represent some 
 imminent danger or grievous affliction ; but then they are not — ^lli 
 C3»VnJ — Streams so calm that they keep within their banks, and 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 91 
 
 lavish abundance over all the surface of the earth ; so shall 
 thy seed he, O thou everlasting Father ! By the preach" 
 ing of thy word shall such an innumerable race of regene- 
 rate children be born unto Thee, and prove an ornament 
 and a blessing to all ages. Millions, millions of willing 
 converts from every nation under heaven shall crowd into 
 thy fumily, and replenish thy church j till they become 
 like the stars of the sky or the sands of the sea for mul* 
 titude, or even as numberless as these fine spangles which 
 
 glide quietly by the traveller's footsteps ; so clear that they are fit for 
 the wayfaring man's use, and invite his lips to a draught ; both which 
 notions are plainly implied in the text. Tliey are rather — niti^D 
 — boisterous billoics, bursting over a ship, or dashing themselves with 
 dreadful impetuosity upon the shore: or — n^ltl^ — sweeping inun- 
 ilations which bear down all before them, and drown the neighbour- 
 ing country. Besides, in these instances of horror we never find the 
 word — nnty* — He shall drink, which conveys a pleasing idea (un- 
 less when it relates to a cup filled with bitter, intoxicating, or im- 
 poisoned liquors, a case quite different from that under consideration) 
 
 but either — ■T\'S1 — which imports terror and astonishment y or else 
 
 tjtDti^ and iii; — which signify to rush upon, to overwhelm , and even 
 to bury under the waves. 
 
 Upon the whole : may not the passage more properly allude to the 
 influences of the Holy Ghost, which were communicated in unmea- 
 surable degrees to our gi-eat High-Priest, and were in fact the cause 
 of his surmounting all difficulties ? These are frequently represented 
 by leaters : *' Whoso believeth on me, out of his beUy shall flow 
 rivers of living icaters" The enjoyment of them is described by 
 drinking : " He that drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall 
 never thirst." Then the sense may run in this well-connected and 
 perspicuous manner. It is asked. How shall the Redeemer be able 
 to execute the various and important offices foretold in the preceding 
 parts of the psalm ? The prophet replies. He shall drink of the brook 
 in the icay : he shall not be left barely to his human nature, which 
 must unavoidably sink under the tremendous work of recovering a 
 lost world; but through the whole course of his incarnate state, 
 through the whole administration of his mediatorial kingdom, shall 
 be supported ^^^th omnipotent succours : he shall drink at the brook 
 of Almighty power, and travel on in the greatness of an uncreated 
 strengtli. Therefore shall he lift up his head; by this means shall he 
 be equal to the prodigious task, and superior to all opposition ; by 
 this means shall lie be thorouglily successful in whatever he under- 
 takes, and greatly triumphant over all his enemies. 
 
92 REFLECTIONS 
 
 now cover tlie face of nature. Behold tlienj ye obstinately 
 wicked^ though you '^'^ are not gathered, yet will the Sa- 
 viour be glorious." His design shall not miscarry nor his 
 labour prove abortive, though you render it of none effect 
 with regard to yourselves : think not that Immanuel will 
 want believers, or heaven inhabitants, because you con- 
 tinue incorrigible. No, the Lamb that was slain will '' see 
 of the travail of his soul and be satisfied," in a never- 
 failing series of faithful people below, and an immense 
 choir of glorified saints above, who shall form his retinue 
 and surround his throne in shining and triumphant armies^ 
 such as no man can number. 
 
 Here I was reminded of the various expedients which 
 Providence, unsearchably wise,, uses to fructify both the 
 material and intellectual world. Sometimes you shall have 
 impetuous and heavy showers bursting from the angry 
 clouds : they lash the plains and make the rivers foam : 
 a storm brings them, and a deluge follows them. At 
 other times these gentle dews are formed in the serene 
 evening air : they steal down by slow degrees and with in- 
 sensible stillness ; so subtile, that they deceive the nicest 
 eye ; so silent, that they escape the most delicate ear j 
 and when fallen, so very light, that they neither bruise the 
 tenderest nor oppress the weakest flower. Very different 
 operations ! yet each concurs in the same beneficial end, 
 and both impart fertility to the lap of nature. 
 
 So some persons have I known reclaimed from the un- 
 fruitful works of darkness by violent and severe means. The 
 Almighty addressed their stubborn hearts as he addressed 
 the Israelites at Sinai, with lightning in his eyes and 
 thunder in his voice. The conscience, smit with a sense 
 of guilt, and apprehensive of eternal vengeance, trembled 
 through all her powers 5 just as that strong mountain 
 tottered to its centre : pangs of remorse and agonies of 
 fear preceded their new birth ; they were reduced to the 
 last extremities^ almost overwhelmed with despair before 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 93 
 
 they found rest in Jesus Christ. Others have been re- 
 covered from a vain conversation by methods more mild 
 and attractive. The Father of spirits applied himself to 
 their teachable minds in '^ a still and small voice :" his 
 grace came down as the rain into a fleece of wool^ or as 
 these softening drops which now water the earth. The 
 kingdom of God took place in their souls without noise or 
 observation. They passed from death unto life^ from a 
 carnal to a regenerate state^ by almost imperceptible ad- 
 vances 3 the transition resembled the growth of corn 5 was 
 very visible when effected, though scarce sensible while 
 accomplishing. O thou Author and Finisher of our faith, 
 recall us from our wanderings and re-unite us to Thyself ! 
 Whether Thou alarm us with thy terrors, or allure us with 
 thy smiles 3 whether Thou drive us \\'ith the scourge of 
 conviction, or draw us with the cords of love 3 let us in 
 any-wise return to thee 3 for Thou art our supreme good. 
 Thou art our only happiness. 
 
 Before I proceed farther, let me ascend the terrace and 
 take one survey of the neighbouring country. What a 
 prospect rushes upon my sight ! How vast, how various, 
 how " full and plenteous with aU manner of store !" Na- 
 ture's whole wealth ! What a rich and inexhaustible ma- 
 gazine is here, furnishing subsistence for every creature ! 
 Methinks I read in these spacious volumes a most lively 
 comment upon that noble celebration of the divine benefi- 
 cence 3 He openeth his hand and Jilleth all things living 
 with plenteousness. 
 
 Tliese are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
 Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, 
 Thus wondrous fair ! Thyself how wondrous then ! 
 
 Milton. 
 
 The ^e Ids are covered deep, and stand thick, with corn : 
 they expand the milky grain to the sun, while the gales, 
 now inclining now raising each flexile stem, open all their 
 ranks to the agency of his beams 3 which will soon impart 
 
94 REFLECTIONS 
 
 a firm consistence to the grain^ and a glossy golden hue 
 to the ear, that they may be qualified to fill the barns 
 of the husbandman with plenty and his heart with glad- 
 ness. 
 
 Yonder lie the meadotvs, smoothed into a perfect level, 
 decorated with an embroidery of the gayest flowers, and 
 loaded with spontaneous crops ^ of herbage ; which, con- 
 verted into hay, will prove a most commodious provision 
 for the barrenness of winter, will supply with fodder our 
 serviceable animals, when all the verdure of the plain is 
 killed by frosts or buried in snows. A winding stream 
 glides along the flowery margin, and receives the image 
 of the bending skies, and waters the roots of many a 
 branching vvillow : 'tis stocked, no doubt, with variety 
 of fish, which afford a solitary diversion to the angler, 
 and nourish for his table a delicious treat : nor is it the 
 only merit of this liquid element to maintain the finny 
 nations j it also carries cleanliness, and dispenses fndtful- 
 ness, wherever it rolls the cr^^stal current. 
 
 The 7;«5^e<re5 with their verdant mounds chequer the 
 prospect, and prepare a standing repast for our cattle : 
 there " our oxen are made strong to labour, and our sheep 
 bring forth thousands and ten thousands 5" there the horse 
 acquires vigour for the despatch of our business, and speed 
 to expedite our journeys ; from thence the kine bring 
 home their udders distended with one of the richest and 
 healthiest liquors in the world. 
 
 On several spots, a grove of trees, like some grand co- 
 lonnade, erects its towering head : every one projects a 
 friendly shade for the beasts, and creates an hospitable 
 lodging for the birds ; every one stands ready to furnish 
 timber for a palace, rnasts for a navy, or, with a more 
 condescending courtesy, fuel for our hearths. One of 
 them seems skirted with a wild uncultivated heath, which, 
 
 * Injiissa vvresount 
 
 Gramma - ■ Virg. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 95 
 
 like well disposed shades in painting, throws an additional 
 lustre on the more ornamented parts of the landscape. 
 Nor is its usefulness, like that of a foil, relative only, but 
 real. There several valuable creatures are produced and 
 accommodated, without any expense or care of ours. There 
 likewise spring abundance of those herbs Avhich assuage 
 the smart of our wounds, and allay the fiery tumults of the 
 fever ; which impart floridity to our circulating fluids, add 
 a more vigorous tone to our active solids^ and thereby 
 repair the decays of our enfeebled constitution. 
 
 Nearer the houses we perceive an ample spread of 
 branches, not so stately as the oaks, but more amiable for 
 their annual services 5 a little while ago I beheld them^ 
 and aU was one beauteous boundless waste of blossofns; 
 the eye marvelled at the lovely sight, and the heart re- 
 joiced in the prospect of autumnal plenty : but now the 
 blooming maid is resigned for the useful matron; the 
 flower is fallen, and the fncit swells out on every twig. 
 Breathe soft^ ye winds ! O, spare the tender fruitage^ ye 
 surly blasts ! Let the pear-tree suckle her juicy progeny^ 
 till they drop into our hands and dissolve in our mouths ; 
 let the plum hang unmolested upon her boughs^ till she 
 fatten her delicious flesh, and cloud her polished skin with 
 blue 3 and as for the apples, that staple commodity of our 
 orchards J let no injurious shocks precipitate them imma- 
 turely to the ground, till revolving suns have tinged them 
 with a ruddy complexion, and concocted them into an 
 exquisite flavour. Then, what copious hoards, what bur- 
 nished rinds, and what delightful relishes will replenish the 
 store-room ! Some to present us with an early entertain- 
 ment, and refresh our palates amidst the sultry heat. Some 
 to borrow ripeness from the falling snows, and carry au- 
 tumn into the depths of winter. Some to adorn the salver^ 
 make a part of the dessert, and give an agreeable * close 
 
 Ah ovo 
 
 Usque ad wa/a — Hor, 
 
96 REFLECTIONS 
 
 to our feasts. Otliers to fill our vats with a foaming floods 
 which, mellowed by age, may sparkle in the glass with 
 a liveliness and delicacy little inferior to the blood of the 
 grape. 
 
 I observe several small inclosures, which seem to be 
 apprehensive of some hostile visit from the north, and 
 therefore are defended on that quarter by a thick wood 
 or a lofty wallj at the same time they cultivate an un- 
 interrupted correspondence with the south, and throw 
 open their whole dimensions to its friendly warmth. One 
 in particular lies within the reach of a distinguishing view, 
 and proves to be a kitchen-garden: it looks, methinks, 
 like a plain and frugal republic. Whatever may resemble 
 the pomp of courts or the ensigns of royalty is banished 
 from this humble community. None of the productions 
 of the olitory affect finery, but all are habited with the 
 very perfection of decency. Here those celebrated qua- 
 lities are eminently united, the utmost simplicity with the 
 exactest neatness.-^ A skilful hand has parcelled out the 
 whole ground into narrow beds and intervening alleys. 
 The same discreet management has assigned to each ver- 
 dant family a peculiar and distinct abode ; so that there 
 is no confusion amidst the great multiplicity, because 
 every individual knovv's its proper home, and all the tribes 
 are ranged with perfect regularity. If it be pleasing to 
 behold their orderly situation and their modest beauties, 
 how much more delightful to consider the advantages they 
 yield ! What a fund of choice accommodations is here \ 
 Wliat a source of wholesome dainties ! And all for the 
 enjoyment of man. Why does the parsley, with her frizled 
 locks, shag the border j or why the celery, with her 
 whitening arms, perforate the mould, but to render his 
 soups savoury ? The asparagus shoots its tapering stems 
 to offer him the first-fruits of the season j and the art'icliohe 
 
 * Simplex munditm. — Hor. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 97 
 
 spreads its turgid top to give him a treat of vegetable 
 marrow. The tendrils of the aecutuder^' creep into the 
 sun j and, though basking in its hottest raySj they secrete 
 for their master, and barrel up for his use, the most cooling 
 juices of the soil. The deans stand firm like files of em- 
 battled troops ; the peas rest upon their props like so 
 many companies of invalids ; while both replenish their 
 pods with the fatness of the earth, on purpose to pour it 
 on their owner's table. Not one species, among all this 
 variety of herbs, is a cumberer of the ground. Not a 
 single plant but is good for food, or some way salutary. 
 With so beneficent an economy are the several periods 
 of their ministration settled, that no portion of the year 
 is left destitute of nourishing esculents. What is still 
 more obliging, every portion of the year affords such es- 
 culents as are best suited to the temperature of the air 
 and the state of our bodies. Why then should the pos- 
 sessor of so valuable a spot envy the condition of kings ?f 
 since he may daily walk amidst rows of peaceable and 
 obsequious, though mute subjects ; every one of which 
 renders him some agreeable present, and pays him a 
 willing tribute, such as is most happily adapted both to 
 supply his wants and to regale his taste ; to furnish him 
 at once with plenty and with pleasure. 
 
 * Plrgily with great conciseness and equal propriety, describes the 
 cucumber : 
 
 — — Tortusque per herham 
 
 Cresceret in vstUrem cucumis. — Georg. ir. 
 
 Milton has (if we admit Dr. Bentley's alteration, which is, I think, 
 in this place unquestionably just) almost translated the Latin poet, 
 
 Forth crept 
 
 The swelling gourd. — Par. Lost, B. vii. 320. 
 •f Hie rarum tamen in dumis olus, albaque circum 
 Lilia ; verbenasque premens, vescumque papaver, 
 Regum sequabat opes auimis : serdque revertens 
 Node donium, dapibus mensas onerabat inemptis. 
 
 ViRG. Georg. iv. 
 
 H 
 
98 REFLEGTIONS 
 
 At a distance one descries the mighty hills: they heave 
 their huge ridges among the clouds^ and look like the 
 harriers of kingdoms^, or the boundaries of nature. Bare 
 and deformed as their surface may appear, their bowels 
 are fraught with inward treasures ; treasures lodged fast 
 in the quarries, or sunk deep in the mines. From thence 
 industry may di'aw her implements to plough the soil, 
 to reap the grain, and procure every necessary convenience. 
 From thence art may fetch her materials to rear the dome, 
 to swell the organ, and form the noblest ornaments of 
 politer life. 
 
 On another side the great deep terminates the view. 
 There go the ships : there is that leviathaii : and there, in 
 that world of waters, an inconceivable number of animals 
 have their habitation. This is the capacious cistern of the 
 miiverse } which admits, as into a receptacle, and distri- 
 butes, as from a reservoir, whatever waters the whole 
 globe. There is not a fountain that gushes in the unfre- 
 quented desert, nor a rivulet that flows in the remotest 
 continent, nor a cloud that swims in the highest regions 
 of the firmament, but is fed by this all-replenishing source. 
 The ocean is the grand vehicle of trade, and the uniter of 
 distant nations. To us it is peculiarly kind, not only as 
 it wafts into our ports the harvest of every climate, and 
 renders our island the centre of traffic, but also as it secures 
 us from foreign invasions by a sort of impregnable in- 
 trenchment.* 
 
 « Whose rampart was the sea. — Nahiim, iii. 8. 
 
 I hope this little excursion into the country will not be looked upon 
 as a departure from my subject ; because a rural new, though no 
 essential part of a garden, is yet a desirable appendage, and neces- 
 sary to complete its beauty. As usefulness is the most valuable pro- 
 perty which can attend any production ; this is tlie circumstance 
 chiefly touched upon in the survey of the landscape. Tliough every 
 piece of this extensive and diversified scene is cast in the most 
 elegant mould, yet nothing is calculated merely for show and parade. 
 You see nothing formed in the taste of the ostentatious obelisk, or 
 insignificant pomp of the pyramid. No such idle expenses were 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 99 
 
 Methinks the view of tliis profuse munificence inspires 
 a secret delight, and kindles a disinterested good-will. 
 While the 'Mittle hills clap their hands/' and the luxuriant 
 'Malleys laugh and sing 3" who can forbear catching the 
 general joy ? who is not touched with lively sensations of 
 pleasure ? While the everlasting Father is scattering bless- 
 ings through his whole family^ and crowning the year with 
 his goodness ; who does not feel his breast overflowing 
 with a diffusive benevolence ? My hearty I must confess, 
 beats high with satisfaction^ and breathes out congratii- 
 ' latory wishes upon all the tenants of these rural abodes 3 
 *' peace be within your walls, as well as plenteousness 
 around your dwellings." Live, ye highly favoured, live 
 sensible of your benefits, and thankful to your Benefactor. 
 Look round upon these prodigiously large incomes of the 
 fruitful soil, and call them (for you have free leave) all 
 your owTi. Only let me remind you of one very important 
 truth. Let me suggest, and may you never forget, that 
 you are obliged to Christ Jesus for every one of these 
 accommodations which spring from the teeming earth 
 and the smiling skies. 
 
 1. Christ made them,^ when they were not. He fetched 
 them up from utter darkness, and gave them both their being 
 
 admitted into that consummate plan, which regulated the structure 
 of the universe. All the decorations of nature are no less advan- 
 tageous than ornamental ; such as speak the Maker infinitely bene- 
 ficent, as well as incomparably magnificent. 
 
 * Wlien I ascribe the work of creation to the Son, I would by no 
 means be supposed to withhold the same honour from the Eternal 
 Father and Ever-blessed Spirit. Tlie acts of those inconceivably 
 glorious persons are, like their essence, uudinded and one. But I 
 choose to state the point in this manner, because this is the manifest 
 doctrine of the New Testament ; is the express belief of our church ; 
 and a most noble peculiarity of the Gospel Revelation. I choose it 
 also, because I would take every opportunity of inculcating and cele- 
 brating the divinity of the Redeemer : a truth, v/hich imparts an 
 unutterable dignity to Christianity; a truth, which lays an immove- 
 able foundation for all the comfortable hopes of a Christian ; a tmthj 
 which will render the mystery of our redemption the wonder and 
 
 h2 
 
100 REFLECTIONS 
 
 and their beauty. He created the materials of which they 
 are composed, and moulded them into this endless mul- 
 tiplicity of amiable forms and useful substances. He ar- 
 rayed the heavens with a vesture of the mildest blue, and 
 clothed the earth in a livery of the gayest green. His 
 pencil streaked, and his breath perfumed, whatever is 
 beautiful or fragrant in the universe. His strength set 
 fast the mountains ; his goodness garnished the vales j 
 and the same touch which healed the leper, wrought the 
 whole visible system into this complete perfection. 
 
 2. Christ recovered them when they were forfeited. — > 
 By Adams sin we lost our right to the comforts of life 
 and fruits of the ground. His disobedience w as the most 
 impious and horrid treason against the King of kings. 
 Consequently his whole patrimony became confiscated : as 
 well the portion of temporal good things settled upon the 
 human race during their minority, as that everlasting heri- 
 tage reserved for their enjoyment when they should come 
 to full age. But the " seed of the woman " instantly in- 
 terposing, took off the attainder, and redeemed the alien- 
 ated inheritance. The first Adam being disinherited, the 
 second Adam * was appointed heir of all thhigSy visible 
 
 delight of eternity : and with this truth, every one will observe, my 
 assertion is inseparably connected. 
 
 If any one questions whether this be the doctrine of our church, 
 let the creed., which we repeat in our most solemn devotions, deter- 
 mine his doubt: "I believe," says that form of sound words, *'in 
 one Lord Jesus Christ, very God of very God, hy whom all thing's 
 were made." If it be farther inquired from whence the Nicene Fa- 
 thers derived this article of their faith ; I answer, from the writings 
 of the beloved disciple who lay on the Saviour's bosom, and of that 
 great apostle who had been caught up into the third heaven. — John, 
 i. 3. Coloss. i. 16. 
 
 * Heb. i. 2. — In this sense at least, Christ is the Saviour of all 
 men. The former and latter rain ; the precious fruits of the earth ; 
 food to eat, and raiment to put on ; — all these he purchased, even 
 for his irreclaimable enemies. They eat of his bread, who lift up 
 their heel against Him. 
 
 We learn from hence, in what a peculiar and endearing light the 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. lOl 
 
 as weH as invisible. And we hold our possession of the 
 foi'mer, we expect an instatement in the latter, purely by 
 virtue of our alliance to Him^ and our union with Him. 
 
 3. Christ upholds them, which would otherwise tumble 
 into ruin. By hhriy says the Oracle of Inspiration, all 
 things consist!^ His finger rolls the seasons round, and 
 presides over all the celestial revolutions. His finger winds 
 up the wheels, and impels every spring of vegetative nature. 
 In a word, the whole weight of the creation rests upon 
 his mighty arm, and receives the whole harmony of its 
 motion from his unerring eye. This habitable globe, with 
 all its rich appendages and fine machinery, could no more 
 continue than they could create themselves. Start they 
 would into instant confusion, or drop into their primitive 
 nothing, did not his power support, and his wisdom regu- 
 late them every moment. In conformity to his will, they 
 subsist steadfast and invariable in their orders, and wait 
 only for his sovereign nod, to *^fail away like water that 
 runneth apace." 
 
 4. Christ actuates them,f which would otherwise be 
 
 Christian is to contemplate the things that are seen. Heathens might 
 tliscbver an eternal power and infinite wisdom iu the structure of the 
 universe ; heathens might acknowledge a most stupendous liberality 
 in the unreserved grant of the whole fabric, with all its furniture, to 
 the service of man : but the Christian should ever keep in mind his 
 forfeiture of them, and the price paid to redeem them. He should 
 receive the gifts of indulgent Providence, as the Israelites received 
 their law, froui Ihe hand of a 3Iediator. Or rather, to him they 
 should come, not only issuing from the stores of an unbounded 
 bounty, but swimming (as it were) in that crimson tide which 
 streamed from InmianueVs veins. 
 
 * Col. i. 17. I beg leave to subjoin St. Chnjsostom's pertinent and 
 beautiful note upon the passage ; by which it will appear, that the 
 sentiment of these sections is not merely a private opinion, but the 
 avowed belief of the primitive church. Toutso-to, says the eloquent 
 father, etg aurov upsfixTcut rj oravTcui/ UTTOffTaais' ov ijlovov avTOg avrtx ex tou fir] 
 ovTOf sig TO eivoLi OTaprjyayej', a\?^a xa< aurog ol'jtol (jvjy.pami vw waTB ix'j 
 cnrosTTixa-Qri rrig aurou Trpovoix;, a7ro7.w7\t xa< ^ts'^oxprcct. 
 
 -f- John, v. 17. My Father ivorketh hitherto, and I work: or, I 
 exert tliat unremitting and unwearied energy which is the life of the 
 
102 REFLECTIONS 
 
 lifeless and insignificant. Pensioners they are^ constant 
 pensioners, on his bounty j and borrow their all from his 
 fulness. He only has life ,- and whatever operates, oper- 
 ates by an emanation from his all-sufficiency. Does the 
 grape refresh you with its enlivening juices ? It is by a 
 warrant received, and virtue derived, from the Redeemer. 
 Does bread strengthen your heart, and prove the staff of 
 your life ? Remember, that it is by the Saviour's appoint- 
 ment, and through the efficacy of his operation. You are 
 charmed with his melody, when the ^*^time of the singing 
 of birds is come, and the voice of the nightingale is heard 
 in your land." You taste his goodness in the luscious fig, 
 the melting peach, and the musky flavour of the apricot. 
 You smell his sweetness in the opening honeysuckle and 
 every odoriferous shrub. 
 
 Could these creatures speak for themselves, they would 
 doubtless disclaim all sufficiency of their own, and ascribe 
 the whole honour to their Maker. ^* We are servants," 
 would they say, **^of Him, who died for you. Cisterns 
 only, dry cisterns in ourselves, we transmit to mortals no 
 more than the uncreated fountain transfuses into us. Think 
 not that from any ability of our own we furuish you with 
 assistance, or administer to your comfort. 'Tis the divine 
 energy, the divine energy alone, that works in us, and does 
 you good. We serve you, O ye sons of men, that you may 
 love Him who placed us in these stations. O ! love the 
 Lord, therefore, all ye who are supported by our ministry, 
 or else we shall groan * with indignation, and regret at 
 your abuse of our services. Use us, and welcome -, for we 
 are yours, if ye are Christ's. Crop our choicest beauties j 
 rifle all our treasures ; accommodate yourselves with our 
 
 creation. Thus the words are paraphrased by a masterly expositor, 
 who has illustrated the life of our blessed Lord in the most elegant 
 taste of criticism, with the most amiable spirit of devotion, and 
 wthout any mixture of the malignant leaven or low singularities of 
 a party. See the Family Expository vol. i. Sect. 47. 
 
 * Rom. viii. 22. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 103 
 
 most valuable qualities ; only let us be incentives to your 
 gratitude, and motives to your obedience!' 
 
 Having surveyed the spacious sky, and sent a glance 
 round the inferior creation ; 'tis time to descend from this 
 eminence, and confine my attention to the beautiful spot 
 below — Here Nature, always pleasing, every where lovely, 
 appears with peculiar attractions. Yonder she seems 
 dressed in her deshabille 5 grand, but irregular j here, she 
 calls in her handmaid Art, and shines in all the delicate 
 ornaments which the nicest cultivation is able to convey. 
 Those are her common apartments, where she lodges her 
 ordinary guests j this is her cabinet of curiosities, where 
 she entertains her intimate acquaintance. My eye shall 
 often expatiate over those scenes of universal fertility : 
 my feet shall sometimes brush through the thicket, or 
 traverse the lawn, or stroll along the forest glade : but 
 to this delightful retreat shall be my chief resort. Thither 
 will I 7nake e.vcursionSy but here will I dwell. 
 
 If, from my low procedure, I may form an allusion to 
 the most exalted practices, I would observe upon this oc- 
 casion, that the celebrated Erasmus, and our judicious 
 Locke, having trod the circle of the sciences and ranged 
 through the whole extent of human literature, at length 
 betook themselves solely to the Bible. Leaving the sages 
 of antiquity, they sat incessantly at the feet of Jesus. 
 Wisely they withdrew from that immense multiplicity of 
 learning, from those endless tracts of amusing erudition, 
 where noxious weeds are mixed with wholesome herbs, 
 where is generally a much larger growth of prickly shrubs 
 than of fruitful boughs. They spent their most mature 
 hours in those hallowed gardens which God's own wisdona 
 planted ; which God's own Spirit watereth ; and in which 
 God's own Son is continually walking j where He meeteth 
 those that seek him, and revealeth to them the glories of 
 his person and the riches of his goodness. 
 
 Thus would I finish the remainder of my days ! Having 
 
104 REFLECTIONS 
 
 just tasted (what they call) the politer studies^ I would 
 now devote my whole application to the lively oracles. 
 From other pursuits I might gleari_, perhaps, a few scattered 
 fragments of Ioav, of lean, of unsatisfactory instruction. 
 From this, I trust to reap a harvest of the sublimest truths, 
 the noblest improvements, and the purest joys."* Waft 
 me then, O ! waft my mind to S'lons consecrated bowers. 
 Let my thoughts perpetually rove through the awfully- 
 pleasing walks of inspiration. Here grow thovse heaven- 
 born plants, the trees of life and knowledge, whose am- 
 brosial fruits we now may " take and eat, and live for 
 ever." Here flow those precious streams of grace and 
 righteousness, whose living waters '^'^ whosoever drinks shall 
 thirst no more." And, what can the fables of Grecian 
 song, or the finest pages of Roman eloquence — what can 
 they exhibit in any degree comparable to these matchless 
 prerogatives of Revelation ? Therefore, though I should 
 not dislike to pay a visit now and then to my heathen 
 masters, 1 would live with the prophets and apostles. 
 With those, I would carry on some occasional correspond- 
 ence 5 but these should be my bosom friends, my insepa- 
 rable companions, '^ my delight and my counsellors." 
 
 What sweets are these, which so agreeably salute my 
 nostrils ? They are the breath of the flowers, the incense 
 of the garden. How liberally does the jessamine dispense 
 her odoriferous riches ! How deliciously has the woodbine 
 embalmed this morning walk ! The air is all perfume. 
 And is not this another most engaging argument to for- 
 sake the bed of sloth ? Who would lie dissolved in sense- 
 less slumbers, while so many breathing sweets invite him 
 to a feast of fragrancy? especially considering, that the 
 advancing day will exhale the volatile dainties, A fugitive 
 treat they are, prepared only for the wakeful and indus- 
 
 * Quicquiddocetur, Veritas; quicquid prcecipiturf bonitas; quicquid 
 promUtitw',felicitas, 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 105 
 
 trioiis : whereas, when the sluggard lifts his heavy eyes, 
 
 the flowers will droop, their fine scents be dissipated, and, 
 
 instead of this refreshing humidity, the air will become a 
 
 kind of liquid fire. 
 
 With this very motive, heightened by a representation of 
 
 the most charming pieces of morning scenery, the parent 
 
 of mankind awakes his lovely consort. There is such a 
 
 delicacy in the choice, and so much life in the description, 
 
 of these rural images, that I cannot excuse myself without 
 
 repeating the whole passage. Whisper it, some friendly 
 
 geniuSy in the ear of every one who is now sunk in sleep, 
 
 and lost to all these refined gratifications ! 
 
 Awake : the morning shines, and the fresh jfield 
 Calls you : ye lose the prime, to mark how spring 
 The tended plants, how blows the citron grov'e ; 
 What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed; 
 How nature paints her colours ; how the bee 
 Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweets.* 
 
 How delightful is this fragrance ! It is distributed in 
 the nicest proportion ; neither so strong as to oppress the 
 organs, nor so faint as to elude them. We are soon cloyed 
 at a sumptuous banquet j but this pleasure never loses its 
 poignancy f never palls the appetite. Here luxury itself is 
 innocent ; or rather, in this case, indulgence is incapable 
 of excess. This balmy entertainment not only regales the 
 sense, but cheers the very soul ;-\ and, instead of clogging, 
 elates its powers. It puts me in mind of that ever me- 
 morable sacrifice which was once made in behalf of offend- 
 ing mortals : I mean the sacrifice of the blessed Jesus, 
 when he offered up himself to God '' for a sweet-smelling 
 savour." Such the Holy Spirit styles that wonderful ob- 
 lation J as if no image in the whole sensible creation was 
 so proper to give us an idea of the ineffahle satisfaction 
 which the Father of Mercies conceived from that unparal- 
 
 * Milt. Par. Lost, B. v. 1. 20. 
 
 f Ointment and perfiime rejoice the heart. 
 
 Prov. xxvii. 9. 
 
106 REFLECTIONS 
 
 leled atonement^ as the pleasing sensations which such rich 
 perfumes are capable of raising. '' Thousands of rams, 
 and ten thousands of rivers of oil/' from an apostate world j 
 the most submissive acknowledgments, added to the most 
 costly offerings, from men of defiled hands and unclean 
 lips } what could they have effected ? A prophet repre- 
 sents the " High and Lofty One that inhabiteth eternity," 
 turning himself away from such filthy rags, turning himself 
 away with a disdainful abhorrence,* as from the noisome 
 steams of a dunghill ; but in Christ's immaculate holiness, 
 in Christ's consummate obedience, in Christ's most pre- 
 cious blood-shedding, with what unimaginable compla- 
 cency does justice rest satisfied, and vengeance acquiesce ! 
 All thy works, O thou surety for ruined sinners ! all thy 
 sufferings, O thou slaughtered Lamb of God ! as well as 
 all thy garments, O thou bridegroom of thy church ! smell 
 of myrrh, aloes, and cassia ! f They are infinitely more 
 grateful to the eternal Godhead, than the choicest ex- 
 halations of the garden, than all the odours of the spicy 
 East, can be to the human nostrils. 
 
 As the altar of old sanctified the gift, so this is the great 
 propitiation which recommends the obnoxious persons and 
 unprofitable services of the believing world. In this may 
 my soul be interested ! by this may it be reconciled to the 
 Father ! There is such a leprous depravity cleaving to 
 my nature, as pollutes whatever I perform : my most 
 profound adorations and siucerest acts of religion must not 
 presume to challenge a reward, but humbly implore for- 
 giveness. | Renouncing therefore myself in every instance 
 
 * Amos, V. 21, 22. f Psalm, xlv. 8. 
 
 + A writer of distinguished superiority thus addresses the great 
 Observer of actions and Searcher of hearts, and vindicates my senti- 
 ments, while he so justly and beautifully utters his own : 
 Look down, great God, with pity's softest eye. 
 On a poor breathing particle in dust. 
 His crimes forgive, forgive his virtues too, 
 Those smaller faults, half converts to the right. 
 
 Niglit Thoughts, NO IX. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 107 
 
 of duty, disclaiming all shadow of confidence* in any 
 deeds of my own, may I now and evermore he accepted 
 through the Beloved ! 
 
 What colours, what charming colours are here ! these 
 so nobly bold, and those so delicately languid ! What a 
 glow is enkindled in some, what a gloss shines upon 
 others ! In one, methinks, I see the ruby with her bleed- 
 ing radiance ; in another, the sapphire with her sky-tinc- 
 tured blue ; in aU, such an exquisite richness of dyes, as 
 no other set of paintings in the universe can boast.f With 
 what a masterly skill is every one of the varying tints 
 disposed ! Here they seem to be thrown on with an easy 
 dash of security and freedom, there they are adjusted by 
 the nicest touches of art and accuracy : those which form 
 the ground are always so judiciously chosen, as to heighten 
 the lustre of the superadded figures -, while the verdure of 
 the impalement, or the shadings of the foliage, impart new 
 liveliness to the whole : indeed, whether they are blended 
 or arranged, softened or contrasted, they are manifestly 
 under the conduct of a taste that never mistakes, a felicity 
 that never falls short of the very perfection of elegance. 
 
 * See page 44 and 45, in the secoid edition of a most candid and 
 evangelical little treatise, called " Christianity the great Ornament 
 of Human Life:" — " If Christians happily avoid the dangerous ex- 
 treme, and too often fatal rock, of a dead, fruitless faith on the one 
 hand, he (i. e. Satan) will endeavour, by all kind of plausible in- 
 sinuations, to split them on the opposite, viz. spiritual pride, osten- 
 tation, and dependence on their ivorks, as if these were the meritorious 
 or procuring cause of all true peace, hope, consolation, and divine 
 acceptance : now this self-dependence may be ranked among the most 
 dangerous of the infernal politics, because the fatal poison lies deep^ 
 and too often undiscerned." 
 
 •f Who can paint 
 
 Like nature ? Can imagination boast. 
 
 Amid his gay creation, hues like these ? 
 
 And can he mix them with that matchless skill. 
 
 And lay them on so delicately fine. 
 
 And lose them in each other, as appears 
 
 In every bud that blows ? 
 
 Thomson, Spring, 
 
108 REFLECTION'S 
 
 Fine^ inimitably fine, is the texture of the web on which 
 these shining treasures are displayed. What are the la- 
 bours of the Persian looms, or the boasted commodities 
 of Brussels, compared with these curious manufactures of 
 Nature ? Compared with these, the most admired chintses 
 lose their reputation ; even superfine cambrics appear coarse 
 as canvass in their presence. 
 
 Wliat a cheering argument does our Saviour derive from 
 hence, to strengthen our affiance in God ! He directs us 
 to learn a lesson of heaven-depending faith from every 
 bird that wings the air, and from every flower that blos- 
 soms in the field. If Providence, with unremitted care> 
 supports those inferior creatures, and arrays these insen- 
 sible beings with so much splendour ; surely He will in no 
 wise withhold from his elect children "• bread to eat, and 
 raiment to put on." Ye faithful followers of the Lamb, 
 dismiss every low anxiety relating to the needful sustenance 
 of life. He that feeds the ravens from an inexhaustible 
 magazine j He that paints the plants with such surpassing 
 elegance 3 in short. He that provides so liberally both for 
 the animal and vegetable parts of his creation, will not, 
 cannot, neglect his own people. Fear not, little Jloch, ye 
 peculiar objects of Almighty love ! It is your Father s good 
 pleasure to give you a kingdom.'^ And, if He freely gives 
 you an everlasting kingdom hereafter, is it possible to 
 suppose that He will deny you any necessary conveniencies 
 here ? 
 
 One cannot forbear reflecting in this place, on the too 
 prevailing humour of being fond and ostentatious of dress.f 
 
 * Luke, xii. 32. 
 
 f Mr. Addison has a fine remark on a female warrior celebrated 
 by Firgil. He observes that, with all her other great qualities, this 
 little foible n\m^\.&& itself; because, as the poet relates, an intempe- 
 rate fondness for a rich and splendid suit of armour betrayed her into 
 ruin. In this circumstance our critic discovers a moral concealed ; 
 this he admires as a neat, though oblique satire^ on that trifling 
 passiott. — Spect, vol. i. N^ 15. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 109 
 
 \Miat an abject and mistaken ambition is this ! How 
 unworthy the dignity of immortal, and the wisdom of 
 rational beings ! especially, since these little productions 
 of the earth have indisputably the pre-eminence in such 
 outward embellishments. Go, clothe thyself with purple 
 and fine linen, trick thyself up in all the gay attire which 
 the shuttle or the needle can furnish; yet know^, to the 
 mortification of thy vanity, that the native elegance of a 
 common daisy* eclipses all this elaborate finery. Nay^ 
 
 I would refer it to the judicious reader, whether there is not a 
 beauty of the same kind, but touched witli a more masterly hand, in 
 the song of Deborah. — Speaking of Sisera's mother, the sacred eu- 
 cliaristic ode represents her, as anticipating, in lier fond fancy, the 
 victory of her son, and indulging the following soliloquy: — Have 
 they not sped ? Have they not divided the prey ? To Sisera a prey of 
 divers colours, a prey of divers colours of needle-work ; of divers' co- 
 lours of needle -li'ork on both sides, meet for the necks of them that take 
 the spoil ? She takes no notice of the signal service which her hero 
 would do to his country, by quelling so dangerous an insurrection. 
 Slie never reflects on the present acclamations, the future advance- 
 ment, and the eternal renown, which are the tribute usually paid to 
 a conqueror's merit. She can conceive, it seems, nothing greater 
 than to be clad in an embroidered vesture, and to trail along the 
 ground a robe of the richest dyes. This is, in her imagination, the 
 most lordly spoil he can Avin, the most stately trophy he can erect. 
 It is also observable how she dwells upon the trivial circumstance, 
 reiterating it again and again : it has so charmed her ignoble heart, 
 so entirely engrossed her little views, that she can think of nothing 
 else, speak of nothing else, and can hardly ever desist from the darl- 
 ing topic. Is not this a keen though delicately couched censure, on 
 that poor, contemptible, grovelling taste, which is enamoured with 
 silken finery, and makes the attributes of a butterfly the idol of its 
 affections ? 
 
 How conspicuous is the elevated and magnificent spirit of that 
 venerable mother in Israel, when viewed in comparison with the low, 
 the despicable turn of this Canaanitish lady ! Such strong and beau- 
 tiful contrasts are, I think, some of the most striking excellencies of 
 poetic painting; and in no book are they more frequently used, or 
 expressed with greater life, than in the sacred volumes of inspiratioft, 
 * Peaceful and lowly in their native soil. 
 
 They neither know to spin, nor care to toil ; 
 
 Yet with confess' d magnificence deride 
 
 Our mean attire, and impotence of pride. 
 
 Prior. 
 
110 REFLECTIONS 
 
 wert thou decked like some illustrious princess on her 
 coronation day^ in all the splendour of royal apparel j 
 couldst thou equal even Solomon in the height of his mag- 
 nificence and glory, yet would the meanest among the 
 Jiowery populace outshine thee j every discerning eye 
 would give the preference to these beauties of the ground.* 
 Scorn, then, to borrow thy recommendations from a neat 
 disposition of threads, and a curious arrangement of co- 
 lours : assume a becoming greatness of temper : let thy 
 endowments be of the immortal kind: study to be all- 
 glorious ivith'in : be clothed with humility : wear the or- 
 nament of a meek and quiet spirit :f to say all in a word, 
 put on the Lord Jesus Christ :X let his blood be sprinkled 
 upon thy conscience, and it shall be whiter than the virgin 
 snows ; let his righteousness, like a spotless robe, adorn 
 thy inner man ; and thou shalt be amiable, even in the 
 most distinguishing eye of God : let his blessed Spirit 
 dwell in thy heart ; and, under his sanctifying operations^ 
 thou shalt be made partaker of a divine nature. 
 
 These are real excellencies j truly noble accomplish- 
 ments these. In this manner be arrayed, be beautified -, 
 and thou wilt not find a rival in the feathers of a peacock, 
 or the foliation of a tulip. These will exalt thee far above 
 the low pretensions of lace and embroidery. These will 
 prepare thee to stand in the beatific presence, and to take 
 thy seat among the angels of light. 
 
 What an enchanting situation is this ! One can scarce 
 
 « Mr. Cowley, with his usual brilliancy of imagination, styles them 
 Stars of Earth. 
 
 f How beautifully does the prophet describe the furniture of a 
 renewed and heavenly mind under the similitude of a rich and com- 
 plete suit of apparel! I vnll greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul 
 shall he joyful in my God ; for he hath clothed me vjith the garments of 
 salvation, he hath covered me tvith the robe of righteousness, as a 
 bridegroom decheth himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth 
 herself with herjeivels. — Isa. Ixi. 10. 
 
 X Rom, xiii. 14. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. Ill 
 
 be melancholy within the atmosphere of flowers. Such 
 lively hues and delicious odours, not only address them- 
 selves agreeably to the senses, but touch, with a surprising 
 delicacy, the sweetest movements of the mind. 
 
 To the heart inspiring 
 
 Vernal delight and joy.* Milton, B. IV. 
 
 How often have I felt them dissipate the gloom of 
 thought, and transfuse a sudden gaiety through the de- 
 jected spirit ! I cannot wonder that kings descend from 
 their thrones to walk amidst blooming ivory and gold ; or 
 retire from the most sumptuous feast, to be recreated with 
 the more refined sweets of the garden. I cannot wonder 
 that queens forego for a while the compliments of a nation, 
 to receive the tribute of the parterre 3 or withdraw from all 
 the glitter of a court, to be attended vAi\\ the more splendid 
 equipage of a bed of flowers. But, if this be so pleasing, 
 what transporting pleasure must arise from the fruition 
 of uncreated Excellency ! O, what unknowTi delight to 
 enter into thy immediate presence, most blessed Lord God ! 
 to see thee,f thou King of Heaven, and Lord of Glor)^, 
 
 * " I would have my reader endeavour to moralize this natural 
 pleasure of the soul, and to improve this vernal delight y as Milton calls 
 it, into a Christian virtue. When we find ourselves inspired with this 
 pleasing instinct, this secret satisfaction and complacency arising 
 from the beauties of the creation, let us consider to tchom we stand 
 indebted for all these entertainments of sense ; and ivho it is that 
 thus opens his hand and fills the world with good. Such an habitual 
 disposition of mind consecrates every field and wood, turns an ordi- 
 nary icalk into a morning or evening sacrifice, and will improve those 
 transient gleams, which naturally brighten up and refresh the soul 
 on such occasions, into an inviolable and perpetual state of bliss and 
 happiness." Spect. vol. v. N« 394. 
 
 f Isaiah represents the felicity of the righteous, in the everlasting 
 Avorld, by this elegant and amiable image ; Thine eyes shall see the 
 King in his beauty. Isa. xxxiii. 17. Milton touches the same subject, 
 with wonderful elevation and majesty of thought : 
 
 They walk with God, 
 
 High in salvation, and the climes of bliss : — 
 
 Milton, B. XI. /07. 
 
112 REFLECTIONS 
 
 no longer *' through a glass darkly, but face to face 1" to 
 have all thy goodness, all thy greatness, shine before us ; 
 and be made glad for ever with the brightest discovery 
 of thy perfections, with the ineffable joy of thy counte- 
 
 nance 
 
 This we cannot bear, in our present imperfect state. 
 The effulgence of unveiled Divinity would dazzle a mor- 
 tal sight. Our feeble faculties would be overwhelmed with 
 such a fulness of superabundant bliss, and must lie op* 
 pressed under such an exceeding great, eternal tv eight of 
 glory. But when this corruptible hath put on incorruption, 
 the powers of the soul will be greatly invigorated j and 
 these earthly tabernacles will be transformed into the like- 
 ness of Christ's glorious body. Then, though " the moon 
 shall be confounded, and the sun ashamed,"* w^hen the 
 Lord of Hosts is revealed from heaven, yet shall his faith- 
 ful people be enabled to see Him as He ls.\ 
 
 Here then, my wishes, here be fixed. Be this your 
 determined and invariable aim. Here, my affections, here 
 give a loose to your whole ardour. Cry out, in the language 
 of inspiration : This one thing have I desired of the Lord, 
 which with incessant earnestness / ivill require, — that I 
 may divell in the celestial house of the Lord all the days 
 of my future life, to behold the fair beauty of the Lord,X 
 and to contemplate with wonder and adoration, with un- 
 speakable and everlasting rapture, all the attributes of the 
 incomprehensible Godhead. 
 
 Solomon, a most penetrating judge of human nature, 
 knowing how highly mankind is charmed with the fine 
 qualities of flowers, has figured out the blessed Jesus, that 
 ^^ fairest among ten thousand," by these lovely represen- 
 
 words, which, like the fiery car, almost transport our affections to. 
 those glorious abodes. 
 
 * Isa. xxiv. 23. f 1 John, iii. 2» 
 
 ♦ Psal. xxvii. 4. 
 
ON A PLOWER-GAHDEM. 113 
 
 tatives. He styles him The rose of S/iaron,* and The lily 
 <of the valleys ; f like the first, full of delights and com- 
 municable graces J like the last, exalted in majesty, and 
 complete in beauty. In that sacred pastoral, he ranges the 
 creation, borrows its most finished forms, and dips his 
 pencil in its choicest dyes, to present us with a sketch of 
 the amiableness of his person : his amiableness, wiio is 
 the light of the world, the glory of his church, the only 
 hope, the sovereign consolation of sinners, and exalted, 
 infinitely exalted, not only above the sublimest comparison, 
 but e\^n '''above all blessing and praise." May i also 
 make the same heavenly use of all sublunary- enjoyments ! 
 Whatever is pleasurable or charming heloWj let it raise 
 my desire to those delectable objects which are above; 
 which will yield, not partial, but perfect felicity 5 not 
 transient, but never ending satisfaction and joy. Yes, 
 my soul, let these beauties in miniature always remind 
 thee of that glorious Person, in whom '*^ dwells all the 
 fulness of the Godhead bodily," Let these little emana- 
 tions teach thee to thirst after the eternal fountain. O I 
 may the creatures be thy constant clew to tlie Creator ! 
 For this is a certain truth, and deserves thy frequent 
 recollection, demands thy most attentive consideration^ 
 
 * Caut.ii. 1. 
 
 Malm ut arhorihm decori est, nt vitib'us uvce, 
 ' Utque roses cmnpis, ut lilia vallibus alba. 
 Sic Christus decus omne suis. — 
 
 t By the lili/ of the valleys, I appreliend, is meant, not the flower 
 which commonly passes under that denomination, and is compara- 
 tively mean ; but the grand, majestic garden lily, grooving in a rich 
 irriguous soil, where it flourishes in the most ample manner, and 
 arrives at the highest perfection. Tlie circumstance of the valleys, 
 added by the sacred writer, is significant not of the species hut of the 
 place. This is by far the noblest interpretation, and most exactly 
 suitable to the spiritual sense, which intimates, that the blessed Jesus 
 delights to dwell, by the communications of his Spirit, in humble 
 hearts, a^porn DJiy W, Lirnm vallibus gaudens. 
 
 I 
 
114 REFLECTIONS 
 
 that the whole compass of finite perfection is only a faint 
 ray^,^ shot from that immense source — is only a small drop, 
 derived from that inexhaustible ocean — of all good. 
 
 "What a surprising variety is observable among the flowery 
 tribes ! How has the bountiful hand of Providence diver- 
 sified these nicest pieces of his workmanship ; added the 
 charms of an endless novelty to all their other perfections ! 
 A constant uniformity would soon render the entertainment 
 tiresome or insipid j therefore every species is formed on a 
 separate plan^, and exhibits something entirely 7iew. The 
 fashion spreads not from family to family ; but every one 
 lias a mode of its own^ which is truly original. The most 
 cursory glance perceives an apparent diflference, as well as 
 a peculiar delicacy, in the airs and habits, the attitude and 
 lineaments, of every distinct class. 
 
 Some rear their heads with a majestic mien, and over- 
 look, like sovereigns or nobles, the whole parterre. Others 
 seem more moderate in their aims, and advance only to the 
 middle stations 3 a genius turned for heraldry might term 
 them the gentry of the border : while others, free from all 
 aspiring views, creep unambitiously on the ground, and 
 look like the commonalty of the kind. Some are intersected 
 with elegant stripes, or studded with radiant spots. Some 
 affect to be genteelly povjdered, or neatly fringed: while 
 others are plain in their aspect, unaffected in their dress, 
 and content to please with a naked simplicity. Some as- 
 sume the monarch's purple ; some look most becoming in 
 the virgin's ivhite -, but black, doleful black, has no admit- 
 tance into the wardrobe of Spring. The weeds of mourn- 
 ing would be a manifest indecorum, when nature holds an 
 universal festival. She would now inspire none but de- 
 lightful ideas j and therefore always makes her appearance 
 
 « . Thou sitt'st above all heavens. 
 
 To us invisible, or dimly seen 
 In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. 
 
 Milton, Book V. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 115 
 
 in some amiable suit.* Here stands a warrior, clad with 
 crimson; there sits a magistrate^, robed in scarlet 5 and 
 yonder struts a pretty fellow, that seems to have dipped his 
 plumes in the rainbow, and glitters in all the gay colours 
 of that resplendent arch. Some rise into a curious cup, or 
 fall into a set of beautiful bells. Some spread themselves 
 in a swelling tuft, or croivd into a delicious cluster. In 
 some, the predominant stain softens by the gentlest dhni- 
 nutions, till it has even stole away from itself : the eye is 
 amused at the agreeable delusion -, and we wonder to find 
 ourselves insensibly decoyed into a quite different lustre. 
 In others, you would think the fine tinges were emulous of 
 pre-eminence. Disdaining to mingle, they confront one 
 another with the resolution of rivals, determined to dispute 
 the prize of beauty ; while each is improved by the oppo- 
 sition into the highest vivacity of complexion. 
 
 Hoiv manifold are thy works, f O Lord ! multiplied even 
 to a prodigy. Yet in ivisdom, consummate wisdom, hast 
 thou made them all. How I admire the vastness of the 
 contrivance, and the exactness of the execution ! Man, 
 feeble man, with difficulty accomplishes a single work. 
 Hardly, and after many efforts, does he arrive at a tolerable 
 imitation of some one production of nature. But the Al- 
 mighty Artist spoke millions of substances into instantaneous 
 being, the whole collection wonderfully various, and each 
 individual completely perfect. Repeated experiments ge- 
 nerally, I might say, always, discover errors or defects in 
 our happiest inventions. Nay, what wins our approbation 
 at the present hour, or in this particular place, is very pro- 
 bably, in some remote period, or some distant clime, treated 
 with contempt. Whereas, these fine structures have pleased 
 every taste, in every country, for almost six thousand years. 
 Nor has any fault been detected in the original plan, nor 
 any room left for the least improvement upon the first mo- 
 
 * — Nuncformosissimus annus. — Virg. 
 f Psalm civ. 24. 
 
 i2 
 
116 REFLECTIONS 
 
 del.* All our performances, the more minutely they are 
 scanned, the more imperfect they appear. With regard to 
 these delicate objects, the more we search into their pro- 
 perties, the more we are ravished with their graces. They 
 are sure to disclose fresh strokes of the most masterly 
 skill, in proportion to the attention with which they are 
 examined. 
 
 Nor is the >simpUcity of the operation less astonishing 
 than the accuracy of the workmanship or the infinitude of 
 the effects . Should you ask, '^'^ Where and what are the 
 materials which beautify the blooming world ? What rich 
 tints, what splendid dyes, what stores of shining crayons, 
 stand by the Heavenly Limner when he paints the robe of 
 nature?" 'Tis answered. His powerful pencil needs no 
 such costly apparatus. A single principle, under his con- 
 ducting hand, branches out into an immensity of the most 
 varied and most finished forms. The moisture of the earth 
 and of the circumambient air, passed through proper strain- 
 ers, and disposed in a range of pellucid tubes j this per- 
 forms all the wonders, and produces all the beauties of 
 vegetation. This creeps along the fibres of the low-spread 
 moss, and climbs to the very tops of the lofty-waving cedars. 
 This, attracted by the root, and circulating through invi- 
 sible canals -, this bursts into gems, expands itself into 
 leaves, and clothes the forest with all its verdant honours. 
 This one plain and simple cause gives birth to all the charms 
 which deck the youth and maturity of the year.f This 
 blushes in the early hepatica, si\\di Jlaines in the late ad- 
 
 * Eccles. iii. 14. / know that whatsoever God doth, it shall be for 
 ever; nothing can he put to it, nor any thing taken from it. 
 
 ■\' " When every several effect has a particular separate cause, this 
 gives no pleasure to the spectator, as not discovering contrivance. 
 But that work is beheld with admiration and delight, a« the result of 
 deep counsel, which is complicated in its parts^ and yet simple in its 
 operations; where a great variety of effects are seen to arise from one 
 principle operating uniformly." 
 
 Abebnethy on the Attributes. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 117 
 
 vancing poppy. This reddens into blood in the veins of 
 the mulberry, and attenuates itself into leafen gold^ to create 
 a covering for the quince. This breathes in all the fragrant 
 gales of our garden, and weeps odorous gum in the groves 
 of Arabia. So ivonderful is our Creator in counsel, and so 
 excellent in tvorking ! * 
 
 In a grove of tulips, or a knot of pinks, one perceives a 
 difference in almost every individual. Scarce any two are 
 turned and tinctured exactly alike. Each allows himself a 
 little particularity in his dress, though all belong to one 
 family : so that they are various, and yet the same. A 
 pretty emblem this, of the smaller differences between Pro- 
 testant Christians. There are modes in religion which ad- 
 mit of variation, without prejudice to sound faith or real 
 holiness ; just as the drapery on these pictures of the 
 spring may be formed after a variety of patterns, without 
 blemishing their beauty or altering their nature. Be it so 
 then, that in some points of inconsiderable consequence 
 several of our brethren dissent j yet let us all live amicably 
 and sociably together, for we harmonize in principals, 
 though we vary in punctilios. Let us join in conversation, 
 and intermingle interests ; discover no estrangement of be- 
 haviour, and cherish no alienation of affection. If any 
 strife subsists, let it be to follow our divine Master most 
 closely in humility of heart and unblameableness of life : 
 let it be to serve one another most readily in all the kind 
 ofl&ces of a cordial friendship. Thus shall we be united, 
 though distinguished ; united in the same grand fundamen- 
 tals, though distinguished by some small circumstantials j 
 united in one important bond of brotherly love, though 
 distinguished by some slighter peculiarities of sentiment. 
 
 Between Christians, whose judgments disagree only about 
 a form of prayer or manner of worship, I apprehend there 
 is no more essential difference than between flowers which 
 
 * Isa, xxviii. 29» 
 
118 REFLECTIONS 
 
 bloom from the same kind of seed, but happen to be some- 
 what diversified in the mixture of their colours. Whereas, 
 if one denies the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, and 
 degrades the incarnate God to the meanness of a mere 
 creature i if another cries up the worthiness of human 
 works, and depreciates the alone-meritorious righteousness 
 of the glorious Mediator ; if a third addresses the incom- 
 municable honours to a finite being, and bows to the image, 
 or prays to the saint — these are errors extremely deroga- 
 tory to the Redeemer's dignity, and not a little prejudicial 
 to the comfort of his people. Against these to remonstrate, 
 against these to urge every argument and use every dis- 
 suasive, bespeaks not the censorious bigot, but the friend 
 of truth and the lover of mankind. Whereas, to stand 
 neuter and silent while such principles are propagated, 
 would be an instance of criminal remissness rather than of 
 Christian moderation. For the persons, we will not fail to 
 maintain a tender compassion j we w^ill not cease to put up 
 earnest intercessions 3 we will also acknowledge and love 
 whatever is excellent and amiable in their character : yet 
 we dare not subscribe their creed; we cannot remit our 
 assiduous but kind endeavours, if by any means we may 
 reconcile them to a more Scrlpfitral belief and a purer wor- 
 ship.* 
 
 Another circumstance recommending and endearing the 
 flovv^ery creation, is their regular succession. They make 
 not their appearance all at once, but in an orderly rotation, 
 
 * In some former editions, I expressed myself on this point unwa- 
 rilif and harshly. But my meaning and real sentiments were no other 
 than those represented ahove. The reader, from such unguarded in- 
 timations, might too naturally be led to conclude, that tlie author 
 avows, and would stir up, a spirit of persecution. But this is a me- 
 thod of dealing with opponents in religious doctrines, which he dis- 
 claims as absurd, and abhors as iniquitous. He is for no force, but 
 that of rational conviction ; for no constraint, but that of affectionate 
 persuasion. Thus, if you please, compel them to come in. Luke, 
 xiv. 23. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 119 
 
 While a proper number of these obliging retainers are in 
 waiting, the others abscond -, but hold themselves in a pos- 
 ture of service, ready to take their turn, and fill each his 
 respective station the instant it becomes vacant. — The 
 snoivdrop, foremost of the lovely train, breaks her way 
 through the frozen soil, in order to present her early com- 
 pliments to her lord : dressed in the robe of innocency, 
 she steps forth, fearless of danger, long before the trees 
 have ventured to unfold their leaves, even while the icicles 
 are pendent on our houses. — Next peeps out the crocus ; 
 but cautiously, and with an air of timidity. She hears the 
 howling blasts, and skulks close to her low situation. 
 Afraid she seems to make large excursions from her root, 
 while so many ruffian w^inds are abroad, and scouring along 
 the aether. — Nor is the violet last in this shining embassy 
 of the year ; which, with all the embellishments that would 
 grace a royal garden, condescends to line our hedges, and 
 grow at the feet of briers. Freely, and without any solici- 
 tation, she distributes the bounty of her emissive sweets ; 
 while herself, with an exemplary humility, retires from 
 sight, seeking rather to administer pleasure than to win 
 admiration* — emblem, expressive emblem, oi those ?nodest 
 virtues, which delight to bloom in obscurity, which extend 
 a cheering influence to multitudes vv^ho are scarce acquainted 
 with the source of their comforts ! motive, engaging mo- 
 tive, to that ever-active beneficence, which stays not for 
 the importunity of the distressed, but anticipates their suit, 
 
 and prevents them with the blessings of its goodness ! 
 
 The poor polyanthus , that lately adorned the border with 
 her sparkling beauties, and, transplanted into our windows, 
 gave us a fresh entertainment, is now no more. I saw her 
 complexion fade, I perceived her breath decay, till at length 
 she expired, and dropped into her grave. — Scarce have we 
 sustained this loss, but in comes the auricula^ and more 
 
 * ' Prodesse quam conspici. 
 
120 BEFLECTIONS 
 
 than retrieves it. Arrayed she comes, in a splendid variety 
 of amiable forms j with an eye of crystal, and garments of 
 the most glossy sating exhaling perfume, and powdered 
 with silver. A very distinguished procession this ! the fa- 
 vourite care of the florist ! Scarce one among them but is 
 dignified with a character of renown, or has the honour to 
 represent some celebrated toast. But these also, notwith- 
 standing their illustrious titles, have exhausted their whole 
 stock of fragrance, and are mingled with the meanest dust. 
 — Who could forbear grieving at their departure, did not 
 the tulips begin to raise themselves on their fine wands or 
 stately stalks ? They flush the parterre with one of the 
 gayest dresses that blooming nature wears. Did ever beau 
 or beile make so gaudy an appearance in a birth-night suit } 
 Here one may behold the innocent wantonness of beauty. 
 Here she indulges a thousand freaks, and sports Iterself in 
 the most charming diversity of colours. Yet I should wrong 
 her were I to call her a coquette, because she plays her lovely 
 changes, not to enkindle dissolute affections, but to display 
 her Creator's glory. — Soon arises the anemone, encircled 
 at the bottom with a spreading robe, and rounded at the 
 top into a beautiful dome. In its loosely-flowing mantle, 
 you may observe a noble negligence ; in its gently-bending 
 tufts, the nicest symmetry. I would term it the ^ne gen- 
 tleman of the garden, because it seems to have learned the 
 singular address of uniting simplicity with refinement, of 
 reconciling art and ease. — The same month has the merit 
 of producing the ranunculus. All bold and graceful, it ex- 
 pands the riches of its foliage, and acquires by degrees the 
 loveliest enamel in the world. As persons of intrinsic 
 worth disdain the superficial arts of recommendation prac- 
 tised hy fops, so this lordly flower scorns to borrow any of 
 its excellence from powders and essences. It needs no 
 such attractives to render it the darling of the curious, 
 being sufficiently engaging from the elegance of its figure, 
 the radiant variety of its tinges, and a certain superior 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 121 
 
 dignity of aspect. — Methinks nature improves in her opera- 
 tions. Her latest strokes are most masterly. To crown 
 the collection, she introduces the carnation, which capti- 
 vates every eye with a noble spread of graces, and charms 
 another sense with a profusion of exquisite odours. This 
 single flower has centred in itself the perfections of all 
 the preceding. The moment it appears, it so commands 
 our attention that we scarce regret the absence of the 
 rest. — The g'llly -flower, like a real friend, attends you 
 through all the vicissitudes and alterations of the season : 
 while others make a transient visit only j this is rather an 
 inhabitant than a guest in your gardens 5 adds fidelity to 
 complaisance. 
 
 It is in vain to attempt a catalogue of these amiable 
 gifts. There is an endless multiplicity in their characters, 
 yet an invariable order in their approaches. Evei'y month, 
 almost every week, has its peculiar ornaments j not ser- 
 vilely copying the works of its predecessor, but forming, 
 still forming, and still executing, some new design. So 
 lavish is the fancy, yet so exact is the process, of nature. 
 
 Here let me stand a while to contemplate this distribu- 
 tion of flowers through the several periods of the year. 
 Were they all to blossom together, there would be at once 
 a promiscuous throng; and at once a total privation. We 
 should scarce have an opportunity of adverting to the 
 dainty qualities of half, and must soon lose the agreeable 
 company of them all. But now, since every species has 
 a separate post to occupy, and a distinct interval for ap- 
 pearing, we can take a leisurely and minute survey of each 
 succeeding set. We can view and review their forms, 
 enter into a more intimate acquaintance with their charm- 
 ing accomplishments, and receive all those pleasing ser- 
 vices which they are commissioned to yield. This remark- 
 able piece of economy is productive of another very valuable 
 effect : it not only places, in the most advantageous light, 
 every particular community, but is also a sure provisionary 
 
122 REFLECTIONS 
 
 resource against the frailty of the whole nation : oi'^, to 
 speak more truly, it renders the flowery tribes a sort of 
 immortal corps,* For though some are continually drop- 
 ping, yet by this expedient others are as continually rising, 
 to beautify our borders, and prolong the entertainment. 
 
 ^^liat goodness is this, to provide such a series of grati- 
 fications for mankind ! both to diversify, and perpetuate, 
 the fine collation ! to take care that our paths should be 
 in a manner incessantly strewed with flowers ! And what 
 tvisdom, to bid every one of these insensible beings know 
 the precise juncture for their coming forth ! insomuch 
 that no actor on a stage can be more exact in performing 
 his part, can make a more regular entry, or a more punc- 
 tual exit. 
 
 Who emboldens the daffodil to venture abroad in Febru- 
 ary, and to trust her flowering gold with inclement and 
 treacherous skies ? Who informs the various tribes of 
 fruit-bearing blossotns, that vernal suns and a more genial 
 warmth are fittest for their delicate texture ? Who teaches 
 the clove to stay till hotter beams are prepared, to infuse 
 a spicy richness into her odours, and tincture her complexion 
 with the deepest crimson ? Who disposes these beautiful 
 troops into such orderly bodies ; retarding some, and 
 accelerating others ? Who has instructed them to file off 
 with such perfect regularity, as soon as the duty of their 
 respective station is over? And, when one detachment 
 retires, who gives the signal for another immediately to 
 advance? AVho, but that unerring Providence, which, 
 from the highest thrones of angels to the very lowest 
 degrees of existence^ orders all things in ^' number, weight, 
 and measure !" 
 
 * In allusion to the celebrated practice of the Persian kings, *' who 
 maintained, for their lifeguard, a body of troops, called immortal, be- 
 cause it perpetually subsisted : for as soon as any of the men died, 
 another was immediately put into his place." — RoUin's Ancient his- 
 tori/j vol. ii. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 123 
 
 These, O my soul, are the regulations of that most 
 adorable, that most beneficent Being, who bowed the 
 heavens, came do^^ii to dwell on earth, and united the 
 frailty of thy mortal nature to all the glories of his <jod- 
 head. All the honour of this admirable establishment 
 belongs to thy Ransom, thy Surety, thy Saviour. To Him 
 it belongs, who sustained the vengeance which thou hadst 
 deserved and wast doomed to suffer 3 who fulfilled the 
 obedience which thou wast obliged, but unable, to perform j 
 and who humbled himself (stupendous, ineffable loving- 
 kindness !) humbled himself to death, even the death of 
 the cross. He formed this vast machine, and adjusted 
 its nice dependencies. The pillars that support it, the 
 embellishments that adorn it, and the laws that govern it, 
 are the result of his unsearchable counsels. O ! the heights 
 of his majesty, and the depths of his abasement ! 
 
 Which shall we admire most, his essential greatness, or 
 his free grace ? He created the exalted seraph that sings 
 in glory j and every the minutest insect that flutters in 
 air or crawls in dust. He marks out a path for all those 
 globes of light which travel the circuit of the skies, and 
 disdains not to rear the violet from its lowly bed, or to 
 plait the daisy which dresses our plains. So grand are 
 his operations, yet so condescending his regards ! If sum- 
 mer, like a sparkling bride, is brilliant and glorious in her 
 apparel, what is this but a feeble reflection of his uncreated 
 effulgence ? If autumn, like a munificent host, opens her 
 stores, and gives us all things richly to enjoy, what is 
 this but a little taste of his inexhaustible liberality 9 If 
 thunders roar, you hear the sound of his trumpet : if light- 
 nings glare, you see the launching of his glittering spear : 
 " if the perpetual hills be scattered, and the everlasting 
 mountains bowed," you behold a display — no, says the 
 prophet, you have rather the hiding of his power.'^ So 
 
 * Hah. iii. 4. Nothing can be more magnificently conceived than 
 the imagery of this whole chapter; and upon the foot of our inter- 
 
124 BEFLECTIONS 
 
 immense is his power^ so uncontrollable and inconceivable, 
 that all these mighty works are but a sketch, in which more 
 is concealed than discovered. 
 
 Thus, I think, we should always view the visible system, 
 with an evangelical telescope (if I may be allowed the 
 expression), and with an evangelical microscope, regarding 
 Christ Jesus as the great projector and architect who 
 planned and executed the amazing scheme. Wliatever is 
 magnificent or valuable, tremendous or amiable, should 
 ever be ascribed to the Redeemer. This is the Christian's 
 natural philosophy. With regard to this method of con- 
 sidering the things that are seen, we have an inspired 
 apostle for our preceptor and precedent. Speaking of 
 Christ, he says, " Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid 
 the foundation of the earth 3 and the heavens are the work 
 of thy hands." Did we carefully attend to this leading 
 
 pretation, nothing was ever more delicately and nobly turned than 
 the sentiment oi this clause. Other senses of the passage, I acknow- 
 ledge, may be assigned with equal propriety : but none, I think, can 
 be imagined so majestic and sublime. As the original will fairly ad- 
 mit of it, as it carries no disagreement with the context, and ex- 
 presses a most important as well as undoubted truth, I hope I 
 may be permitted to use it, at least by way of accommodation ; es- 
 pecially as it suggests one of the finest mottos imaginable, wherewith 
 to inscribe all the visible productions of the Creator's hand. When, 
 stmck with astonishment, we consider their grandeur, beauty, and 
 consummate perfections, let us, in justice to their Author, apply the 
 exalted reflection of this sacred ode : " In all these is the hiding 
 rather than an adequate display of his matchless /^oet-er. Though they 
 challenge our praise, and surpass our comprehension, yet they are by 
 no means the utmost exertions, but rather some slighter essays, of 
 omnipotent skill." Milton, relating the overthrow of the fallen an- 
 gels, introduces a gi'and circumstance, not much unlike the preceding. 
 Messiah, unaided and alone, had routed an innumerable host of 
 apostate spirits. This was great and manellous. But to create a 
 juster idea of the illustrious Conqueror, our poet beautifully adds — 
 
 Yet half his strength he put not forth. 
 
 If we forget to make the same remark when we contemplate God 
 in his works, we must necessarily form very scanty conceptions 
 of that Supreme Being, before whom all nations are as a *'drop 
 of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of the balance." 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 125 
 
 principle in all our examinations of nature, it would doubt- 
 less be a most powerful means of enkincU'ing our love, and 
 strengthening our faith.* When I look round upon mil- 
 lions of noble substances, and carry with me this trans- 
 porting reflection, *' The Maker of them all expired on a 
 cross for me 5" how can I remain any longer indifferent? 
 Must not the coldest heart begin to glow with gratitude ? 
 When I survey an immensity of the finest productions 
 imaginable, and remember that the Author of them all is 
 my '' righteousness and my redemption 5" how can I 
 choose but repose the most cheerful confidence in such a 
 Mediator ? 
 
 Let me add one more remark upon the admirable ad- 
 
 * Tlie apostles, I obsen^e, delight to use this method of displaying 
 the honours of the Redeemer, and establishing the faith of his people. 
 The beloved disciple, teaching that most precious doctrine, " of a 
 Lamb slain to take away the sins of the world," in order to evince 
 the sufficiency of Christ's sacrifice for this blessed purpose, affirms, 
 ihat all things were made by him : and without him v:as not any thingy 
 no, not so much as one single being, made^ John, i. 3. — St. Patd, 
 preaching the same glad tidings to the Colossians, and expressly 
 maintaining that we have redemption through his blood, seems to 
 foresee an objection of this kind : " To expiate transgressions against 
 an Infinite Majesty is a most prodigious act. It must cost vastly 
 more than any common surety can pay, to redeem a sinful world, 
 Wliat reason have we to believe, that Jesus is equal to this mighty 
 undertaking?" All possible reason, replies the apostle, from the 
 dignity of his person, for he is the image of the invisible God; and 
 from the greatness of his works, for by him all things loere made. 
 Consider the operations of his hands, and you cannot doubt the 
 atoning efficacy of his death. Col. i. 15, 16. — The author of the 
 Epistle to the Hebrews falls exactly into the same train of arguing. 
 Declaring that Christ Jesus has purged our sins by the sacrifice of 
 himself, he proves his ample ability for this tremendous office from 
 his essential excellence, because he is the brightness of his Father's 
 glory ; and from his admirable works, because he made the worlds^ 
 and upholdeth all things by the vmrd of his power ^ Heb. i. 2, 3. Which 
 truth, as it is so important in itself, of such signal comfort to Chris- 
 tians, and so particularly insisted on by the inspired writers, I hope 
 I shall need no apology for an attempt to illustrate and enforce it in 
 a kind of evangelical descant upon Creation annexed to these re- 
 flections. 
 
126 REFLECTIONS 
 
 justtnent of every particular relating to these fine colonies 
 planted in the parterre. With such accuracy and correct- 
 ness is their structure finished, that any the least conceiv- 
 able alteration would very much impair their perfection. 
 Should you see, for instance, the nice disposition of the 
 tulip's attire fly abroad, disorderly and irregular, like the 
 flaunting woodbine ,• should the jessamine rear her diminu- 
 tive head on those grand columns which support the 
 holUhock ; should the erect and manly aspect of the piony 
 hang down with a pensive air, like the flexile bells of the 
 hyacinth ,- should that noble plainness which distinguishes 
 the lily be exchanged for the glittering fringes which edge 
 \\\Q pinky or the gaudy stains which bedrop the iris ; should 
 those tapering pillars which arise in the middle of its vase, 
 and, tipped with golden pendants, give such a lustre to the 
 surrounding pannels of alabaster — should those sink and 
 disappear, like the chives which cover the heart of the 
 anemone ; in many of these cases, would not the trans- 
 position be fantastical and awkward ? in all, to the apparent 
 prejudice of every individual ? 
 
 Again, with regard to the time of their appearing, this 
 circumstance is settled by a remarkable foresight and 
 precaution. What would become of the sailor, if in very 
 stormy weather he should raise a lofty mast, and crowd it 
 with all his canvass ! Such would be the ill effect, if the 
 most stately species of flowers should presume to come 
 abroad in the blustering months. Ah ! how would they 
 rue the imprudent boldness ! Therefore those only that 
 shoot the shortest stems, and display the smallest spread 
 of leaves, or (if you please) carry the least sail, are 
 launched amidst the blowing seasons. How injudiciously 
 would the perfumer act, if he should unseal his finest 
 essences, and expose them to the northern winds or wintry 
 rains ! Our blooming artists of the aromatic profession, 
 at least the most delicate among them, seem perfectly 
 aware of the consequences of such a procedure. Accord- 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 127 
 
 iugly, they postpone the opening of tlieir odoriferous trea- 
 sures^ till a serener air, and more unclouded skies, grant 
 a protection to their amiable traffic 5 till they are under 
 no more apprehensions of having their spicy cells rifled by 
 rude blasts, or drowned in incessant showers.* 
 
 What a striking argument is here for resignation, un- 
 feigned resignation, to all the disposals of Providence I 
 Too often are our dissatisfied thoughts apt to find fault 
 with divine dispensations. We tacitly arraign our Maker's 
 conduct, or question his kindness with regard to ourselves. 
 We fancy our lot not so commodiously situated, or our 
 condition not so happily circumstanced, as if we had been 
 placed in some other station of life. But let us behold 
 this exquisitely nice regulation of the minutest plants, and 
 be ashamed of our repining folly. Could any fibre in their 
 composition be altered, or one line in their features be 
 
 * Cashnir, iu a very poetical manner, addresses himself to the 
 dormant rose ; and most prettily invites her to venture abroad by the 
 mention of these two circumstances : 
 
 Sidermn sacros imitata viiltvs. 
 
 Quid lates diidum, rosa ? DeUcatum 
 
 Effer e terris caput, O tepentis 
 
 Filia cosli. 
 Jam tibi mihesfugiunt aquosae, 
 Quasfugant albis Zepliyri quadrigis : 
 Jam tibi mulcet Boremu Jocantis 
 
 Aura Favoni. 
 
 Child of the summer, charming rose. 
 
 No longer in confinement lie ; 
 Arise to light, thy form disclose. 
 
 Rival the spangles of the sky. 
 
 Tlie rains are gone, the storms are o'er. 
 
 Winter retires to make thee way : 
 Come then, thou sweetly blushing flow'r. 
 
 Come, lovely stranger, come away. 
 
 The sun is dress'd in beaming smiles , 
 
 To give thy beauties to the day : 
 Young Zephyrs wait, with gentlest gales 
 
 To fan thy bosom as they play. 
 
128 REFLECTIONS 
 
 transposed, without clouding some of thelf beauties ? 
 Could any fold in their vestments be varied, or any link 
 in their orderly succession be broken, without injuring 
 some delicate property ? And does not that All-seeing 
 Eye, which preserves so exact a harmony among these 
 pretty toys, maintain as watchful a care over his rational 
 creatures? Does he choose the properest season for the 
 cowslip to arise and drink the dews, and can he neglect 
 the concerns, or misjudge the conveniencies, of his sons 
 and daughters ? He, who has so completely disposed 
 whatever pertains to the vegetable economy, that the least 
 diminution or addition would certainly hurt the finished 
 scheme, does, without all peradventure, preside with equal 
 attention over the interests of his own people. 
 
 Be still, then, thou uneasy mortal 3* know that God is 
 unerringly wise j and be assured that, amidst the greatest 
 multiplicity of beings, he does not overlook tliee. Thy 
 Saviour has given me authority to assert, that thou art 
 of far superior value, in the estimate of Omnipotence, than 
 all the herbage of the field. If his sacred will ordains 
 sickness for thy portion, never dare to imagine that un- 
 interrupted health would be more advantageous. If he 
 
 * Permittas ipsis expendere numinibuSy quid 
 Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris. 
 Nam pro]\iiCm\6i& aptissima ^'M-^^'we dabunt dii: 
 Carior est illis homo, quam sibi. — Juv. 
 
 Since all the downward tracts of time 
 
 God's watchful eye surveys ; 
 O ! who so wise to choose our lot. 
 
 And regulate our ways ? 
 
 Since none can doubt his equal love, 
 
 Unmeasurably kind ; 
 To his unerring, gracious will 
 
 Be ev'ry wish resign'd. 
 
 Good when He gives, supremely good ; 
 
 Nor less, when he denies : 
 E'en crosses, from his sov'reign hand. 
 
 Are blessings in disguise. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 129 
 
 pleases to witlihold or take away children, never presume 
 to conclude that thy happiness is blasted, because thy 
 hopes of an increasing family are disappointed. He that 
 marshals all the starry host, and so accurately arranges 
 every the meanest species of herbs, he orders all the pe- 
 culiarities, all the changes of thy state, with a vigilance 
 that nothing can elude, with a goodness that endureth for 
 ever. Bow thy head, therefore, in humble acquiescence. 
 Rest satisfied, that ivhatever is by the appointment of 
 Heaven, is right, '^ is best. 
 
 Among all the productions of the third creating-day, 
 this of flowers seem to be peculiarly designed for man. 
 Man has the monopoly of this favour : it is conferred on 
 him by a sort of exclusive charter. See the imperial 
 crown, splendid and beautifully grand ! See the tuberose, 
 delicate and languishingly fair ! See all the pomp and 
 gloi-y of the parterre, where paint and perfume do wonders. 
 Yet the inferior animals are neither smit with their beau- 
 ties, nor regaled with their odours. The horse never 
 
 * JFhatever is, is right. — li^lr.Pope understands the maxim ac- 
 cording to the limitation suggested above, he speaks a most unde- 
 niable and glorious truth. But if that great poet includes whatever 
 comes to pass through tlie wild and extravagant passions of men, 
 surely no thinking person, at least no Christian, can accede to his 
 opinion. — What God orders, is icise, beyond all possibility of cor- 
 rection ; and good, above all that we can ask or think. His decrees 
 are the result of infinite discernment, and his dispensations the 
 issues of unbounded benevolence. But man, fallen man, is hurried 
 away by his lusts into a thousand irregularities, which are deplorably 
 evil in themselves, and attended with consequences manifestly per- 
 nicious to society. Let the sentiment, therefore, be restrained to 
 the disposals of Heaven, and I most readily subscribe it. But if it 
 be extended to the conduct of men, and the effects of their folly, 
 I think myself obliged to enter my protest against it. For whatever 
 kindles the divine indignation — is cause of final ruin to the author, 
 is strictly forbidden by God's holy word, is contraiy to the whole 
 design of his revealed will, and the very reverse of his essential 
 attributes, — this cannot possibly be right, this is most undoubtedly 
 wrong. Omnipotence, indeed, can over-rule it, and educe good from 
 it. Bnt the very notion of over-ruling supposes it to be absolutely 
 tcrong in itself. 
 
130 EEFLECTIONS 
 
 stands still to gaze upon tlieir charms, nor does the ox 
 turn aside to browse upon their sweets. Senses they have 
 to discern these curious objects in their gross, but no taste 
 to d'lst'ingidsh or relish their fine accomplishments. Just 
 so, carnal and unenlightened men may understand the 
 literal meaning of Scripture, may comprehend the evi- 
 dences of its divine inspiration ; yet have no ardent longing 
 for the spiritual blessings it offers, see ^' no form or come- 
 liness" in the Saviour it describes, so as to render him 
 the supreme desire of their souls. 
 
 The chief end of these beautiful appearances, philoso- 
 phers say, is to unfold and cherish the embryo seed, or to 
 swathe the tender body during its infant state. But what- 
 ever is the chief end of nature, 'tis certain she never de- 
 parts from the design of administering delight to mankind.* 
 This is inseparably connected with her other views. Were 
 it only to secure a reproductive prijiciple, what need of 
 Such elegant complications ? Why so much art employed, 
 and s5 many decorations added ? Why should vestments 
 be prepared richer than brocades, more delicate than 
 lawns, and of a finer glow than the most admired velvets ? 
 If the great mother had no other aim than barely to ac- 
 commodate her little offspring, warm flannel or homely 
 fustian would-have served her turn ; served it full as well 
 as the most sumptuous tissues, or all the furniture of the 
 mercer's shop. 
 
 Evident then it is, that flowers were endued with such 
 enchanting graces for the pleasure of man. In pursuance 
 of this original intention, they have always paid their 
 court to the human race j they still seem particularly 
 
 * *' We find that the most important parts in the vegetahle world 
 are those which are the most beautiful. These are the seeds by 
 which the several races of plants are propagated and continued, and 
 which are always lodged in flowers or blossoms. Nature seems to 
 hide her principal design, and to be industrious in making the earth 
 gay and delightful, while she is cariying on her great work, and 
 intent upon her own preservation." — Sped. vol. v. N" 387, 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 131 
 
 solicitous of recommending themselves to our regard. The 
 finest of each species crowd about our habitations, and 
 are rarely to be seen at a distance from our abodes. They 
 thrive under our cultivating hand and observing eye, but 
 degenerate and ;;i«e away if unregarded by their lord. 
 To win his attention, and deck his retreats, they hide their 
 deformities under ground, and display nothing but the most 
 graceful forms and engaging colours to his sight. To 
 merit a farther degree of his esteem, the generality of 
 them dispense a delightful perfume. What is still more 
 obliging, they reserve their richest exhalations to embalm 
 his morning and evening walks. "^ Because he usually 
 chooses those cool hours to recreate himself among their 
 blooming ranks, therefore at those hours they are most 
 lavish of their fragrance, and breathe out their choicest 
 spirits. 
 
 O man, greatly beloved by thy Creator ! the darling 
 of Providence! thou art distinguished by his goodness; 
 distinguish thyself also by thy gratitude. Be it thy one 
 undivided aim to glorify Him who has been at so much 
 expense to gratify thee! — .While all these inferior crea- 
 tures, in sil€7it eloquence, declare the glory of God, do thou 
 lend them thy tongue. Be thou the high priest of the 
 mute creation. Let their praises become vocal in thy 
 songs. Adore the Supreme Benefactor for the blessings 
 he showers down upon every order of beings. Adore him 
 for numberless mercies which are appropriated to thyself. 
 But, above all, adore him for that noble gift of a ratio?iaf 
 
 * The flow'rs. 
 
 That open now their choicest bosom'd smells, 
 Reserv'd from night, and kept for thee in store, 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Tlie twining jasmine and the blushing rose 
 With lavish grace their morning scents disclose ; 
 The smelling tub' rose and jonquil declare 
 The stronger impulse of an ev'ning air. 
 
 Prior's Sol, 
 
 k2 
 
132 REFLECTIONS 
 
 and immortal soul. This constitutes us masters of the 
 globe, and gives us the real enjo^Tiient of its riches : this 
 discovers ten thousand beauties, which otherwise had been 
 lost, and renders them both a source of delight and a 
 nursery of devotion. By virtue of this exalted principle, 
 we are qualified to admire our Maker's works, and capable 
 of bearing his illustrious image ; bearing his illustrious 
 image, not only when these ornaments of the ground have 
 resigned their honours, but when the great origin of day 
 is extinguished in the skies, and all the flaming orbs on 
 high are put out in obscure darkness. Then to survive, 
 to survive the niins of one world, and to enjoy God — to 
 resemble God — to be " filled with all the fullness of God," 
 in another — what a happiness, what an inestimable hap- 
 piness, is this ! Yet this is thy privilege, (barter it not, 
 for trifles of an hour !) this thy glorious prerogative, O 
 man ! 
 
 O ! the goodness, the exuberant goodness, of our God ! 
 I cannot forbear celebrating it once more, before I pass 
 to another consideration. — How much should we think 
 ourselves obliged to a generous friend, who should build 
 a stately edifice purely for our abode !* But how greatly 
 
 * I cannot persuade myself, that the comparison is stretched be- 
 yond proper bounds when carried to this pitch. It is my steadfast 
 opinion, that the world, at least this lower world, with its various 
 appurtenances, was intended purely for man ; that it is appropriated 
 to him; and that he (in subordination to God's glory) is the end 
 of its creation. Other animals, 'tis true, partake of the Creatoi-'s 
 benefits : but then they partake under the notion of man's domestics, 
 or on the foot of retainers to him ; as creatures, which bear some 
 relation to his service, and some way or other contribute to his 
 good. So that still he is the centre of the whole ; or, as our incom- 
 parable 3Iilton, equally master of poetrj- and divinity, expresses him- 
 self, All things live for man." — Par. Lost. B. XI. 161. 
 
 JNIr. Popey in his Ethic Epistles, is pleased to explode this tenet, 
 as the height of pride and a gross absurdity. For my part, I see no 
 reason for such a charge. With all submission to so superior a 
 genius, it seems very remote from pride to be duly sensible of 
 favours vouchsafed ; to contemplate them in all the extent of theit 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 133 
 
 would the obligation be increased, if the hand that built 
 should also furnish it ! and not only furnish it with all that 
 is commodious and comfortable, but ornament it also with 
 
 munificence, and acknowledge them accordingly. I should rather 
 imagine, that to contract their size, when they are immensely large ; 
 to stint their number, when they are altogether innumerable ; that 
 such a procedure savours more of imensibUity than our hypothesis 
 of presumption, and has more in it of mgratitude than that of arro- 
 gance. 
 
 And how can it be deemed an absurdity, to maintain that God 
 gave us a world for our possession, when it is our duty to believe 
 that he gave us his only Son for our propitiation ? Sure, it can be 
 neither difficult nor extravagant to suppose, that he designed the 
 habitable globe, with its whole furniture, for our present use ; since 
 he withheld not his holy child Jesus, but freely delivered him up for 
 our tinal salvation. 
 
 Upon the whole, I cannot but conclude, that the attempt of our 
 famous poet is neither hind with regard to his fellow-creatures, nor 
 grateful with regard to his Creator; neither is his scheme in fact 
 true. — The attempt not Miul with regard to man, because it robs him 
 of one of the most delightful and ravishing contemplations imagin- 
 able. To consider the great Author of existence as having me in his 
 eye, when he formed universal nature; as contriving all things with 
 an immediate Wew to the exigencies of my particular state ; and 
 making them aU in such a manner, as might be most conducive to 
 my particular advantage ; this must occasion the strongest satis- 
 factions, whenever I cast a glance on the objects that surround me. 
 — Not grateful with regard to God, because it has the most direct 
 tendency to diminish our sense of his kindness, and by that means 
 to throw a damp upon our gratitude. It teaches us to look upon 
 ourselves, as almost lost among a crowd of other beings, or regarded 
 only with an occasional and incidental beneficence, which must 
 certainly weaken the disposition and indeed slacken the ties to the 
 most adoring thankfulness. — To which, I apprehend, we may justly 
 add, neither is the scheme in fact true. For, not to mention what 
 might be urged from the sure word of revelation, this one argument 
 appears sufficiently conclusive. The world began with man ; the 
 world must cease with man ; consequently the grand use, the princi- 
 pal end of the world, is, to subsen'e the interest of man. It is on 
 all sides agreed, that the edifice was erected when man was to be 
 furnished vTith a habitation ; and that it will be demolished when 
 man has no farther need of its accommodations. When he enters 
 into the house not made -s^-ith hands, eternal in the heavens, " the 
 earth, and all the works that are therein, shall be burnt up." From 
 which it seems a very obvious and fair deduction, that man is the 
 final cause of this inferior creation. 
 
134 REFLECTIONS 
 
 whatever is splendid and delightful ! — this has our most 
 indulgent Creator done^ in a manner infinitely surpassing 
 all we could wish or imagine. 
 
 The earth is assigned ns for a dwelling. The shies are 
 stretched over us like a magnificent canopy, dyed in the 
 purest azure 5 and beautified, now with pictures of float- 
 ing silver^ now with colourings of reflected crimson. The 
 grass is spread under us as a spacious carpet, wove with 
 silken threads of green, and damasked with flowers of 
 every hue. The sun, like a golden lamp, is hung out in 
 the ethereal vault -, and pours his effulgence all the 
 day to lighten our paths. When night approaches, the 
 moon takes up the friendly office 3 and the stars are 
 kindled in twinkling myriads, to cheer the darkness with 
 their milder lustre, not disturb our repose by too intense 
 a glare. The clouds, besides the rich paintings they hang 
 around the heavens, act the part of a shifting screen 3 
 and defend us, by their seasonable interposition, from 
 the scorching beams of summer. May we not also regard 
 them as the great watering-pots of the globe ? which, 
 wafted on the wings of the wind, dispense their moisture* 
 
 So that I think my readers aiul myself privileged (not to say, on 
 the principles of gratitude, obliged) to use those lovely lines of our 
 author, with a propriety and truth, equal to their elegance and 
 beauty : 
 
 For me kind Nature wakes her genial pow'r, 
 Suckles each herb, and spreads out ev'ry f.ow'r ! 
 Annual, for me, the grape, the rose renew 
 The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew ; 
 For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings ; 
 For me, health gushes from a thousand springs. 
 
 Eth. Ep. I. V. 129. 
 
 * This circumstance, amidst abundance of other delicate and edi- 
 fying remarks upon the wonders of nature, is finely touched in the 
 Philosophical Transactions recorded in the book of Job, chap, xxxviii. 
 ver. 25. — nWn SIDU^V J^D-'D> ^^^^0 hath divided a icater-course for 
 the overflomng of waters? — The Hebrew is so pregnant and rich with 
 sense, that no tramlation can do it justice. The following para- 
 phrase, perhaps, may represent the principal ideas comprehended in 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 135 
 
 evenly through the universal garden 3 and fructify, with 
 their showers, whatever our hand plants. The folds are 
 our exhaustless granary. The ocean is our vast reservoir. 
 The animals spend their strength to dispatch our business, 
 resign their clothing to replenish our wardrobe, and sur- 
 render their very lives to provide for our tabled. In short, 
 every element is a storehouse of conveniencies, every season 
 brings us the choicest productions, all nature is our ca- 
 terer ; and, which is a most endearing recommendation of 
 these favours, they are all as lovely as they are useful. 
 You observe nothing mean or inelegant. All is clad in 
 beauty s fairest robe,"^ and regulated by proportions nicest 
 rule. The whole scene exhibits a fund of pleasures to the 
 imagination, at the same time that it more than supplies all 
 our wants. f 
 
 Therefore thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou 
 art, that rebcllest against thy Maker. He surrounds thee 
 with unnumbered benefits, and follows thee with an eflfu- 
 
 the expressive original: — Who has branched out , and with admirable 
 judgment disposed a variety of aqueducts^ for tliat immense collection 
 of waters which float in the sky } Who distributes those pendulous 
 floods through all the borders of the earth } distributes them, not 
 in dreadful cataracts, or promiscuous gluts of rain, but in kindly 
 drops and refreshing showers, with as mucli regularity and economy 
 as if tliey were conveyed by pipes from a conduit ? To whom shall 
 we ascribe that niceness of contrivance, which now emits, now re- 
 strains them ; sometimes derives their humid train to one place, 
 sometimes to another ; dispenses them to this soil in larger, to that 
 in smaller communications : and, in a word, so manages the mighty 
 fluid, that every spot is supplied in exact proportion to its wants, 
 none destroyed by an undistinguishing deluge ? 
 
 * Perhaps it was from such an observation, that the Greeks, those 
 critical and refined judges of things, expressed the mundane system by 
 a word which signhies beauty. — mitixqs. 
 
 + " Those several living creatures, which are made for our service 
 or sustenance, at the same time either fill the woods with their 
 music, furnish us with game, or raise pleasing ideas in us by the 
 delightfulness of their appearance. Fountains, lakes, and rivers, are 
 as refreshing to the imagination, as to the soil through which they 
 pass." — Sped, vol. v. No 387. 
 
136 KEFLECTIONS 
 
 sion of the richest, noblest gifts. He courts thy affections, 
 he solicits thy gratitude, by liberalities which are never 
 intermitted, by a bounty which knows no limits. — Most 
 blessed Lord, let this thy goodness, thy unwearied good- 
 ness, lead us to repentance, TVin us to thyself, thou 
 Fountain of Felicity, by these sweet inducements. Draw 
 us to our duty, thou God of our Salvation, by these '^ cords 
 of love." 
 
 What a living picture is here of the beneficial effects of 
 industry! By industry and cultivation, this neat spot is 
 an image of Eden. Here is all that can entertain the eye, 
 or regale the smell.* Whereas, without cultivation, this 
 sweet garden had been a desolate wilderness. Vile thistles 
 had made it loathsome, and tangling briers inaccessible. 
 Without cultivation it might have been a nest for serpents, 
 and the horrid haunt of venomous creatures. But the 
 spade and pruning-knife, in the hand of industry, have 
 improved it into a sort of terrestrial paradise. 
 
 HoAv naturally does this lead our contemplation to the 
 advantages which flow from a virtuous education, and the 
 miseries which ensue from the neglect of it !f The mind, 
 without early instruction, will in all probability become 
 like the '*^ vineyard of the sluggard:" if left to the pro- 
 pensities of its own depraved will, what can we expect 
 but the most luxuriant growth of unruly appetites, which 
 in time will break forth into all manner of scandalous 
 irregularities? What, — but that anger, like a prickly 
 thorn, arm the temper with an untractable moroseness : 
 peevishness, like a stinging nettle, render the conversation 
 irksome and forbidding : avarice, like some choking weed, 
 teach the fingers to gripe, and the hands to oppress : 
 revenge, like some poisonous plant, replete with baneful 
 juices, ^rankle in the breast, and meditate mischief to its 
 
 * Omnis copia narium. — Hor. 
 
 f Neglectis urendafilix miascitur agris. — Hor. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 13/ 
 
 neighbour : while unbridled lusts^ like swarms of noisome 
 insects, taint each rising thought ; and render *' every 
 imagination of the heart only evil continually ?" Such are 
 the usual products of savage nature 3 such the furniture of 
 the uncultivated soul ! 
 
 Whereas let the mind be put under the '^'^ nurture and 
 admonition of the Lord :" let holy discipline clear the soil : 
 let sacred instructions sow it with the best seed : let skill 
 and vigilance dress the rising shoots, direct the young 
 ideas how to spread, the wayward passions how to move : 
 then what a different state of the inner man will quickly 
 take place ! Charity will breathe her sweets, and hope 
 expand her blossoms ; the personal virtues display their 
 graces, and the social ones their fruits 3* the sentiments 
 become generous, the carriage endearing, the life honour- 
 able and useful. f 
 
 O ! that governors of families and masters of schools 
 would watch with a conscientious solicitude over the 
 morals of their tender charge ! What pity it is, that the 
 advancing generation should lose these invaluable endow- 
 ments through any supineness in their instructors ! See ! 
 with what assiduity the curious florist attends his little 
 
 * Tliis transformation of the heart and renewal of the life, are 
 represented in Scripture by similitudes very nearly allied to the images 
 used above. God, by his sanctifying Spirit, will make the soul as 
 a toatered garden. Under the operation of this divine principle, 
 the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. Wherever it exerts 
 the refining and ennobling energy, instead of the thorn shall come vp 
 the fir-tree, and instead of the brier, the myrtle-tree. — Jerem. xxxi. 
 12. — Isa. XXXV. I. Iv. 13. 
 
 •f A teneris assuescere tanti est ! — Virg. 
 
 ou yap fxtxpov ^iix:pepei, to ovrwg r; ovTwg svQvg ex )>sujy eO^^sj-- 
 
 6x1, a?.\u TiX-xTToKv, fxuKKov Se to ttxv. — ArisTOT. 
 
 The principles we imbibe, and the habits we contract, in our early 
 years, are not matters of small moment, but of the utmost consequence 
 imaginable. They not only give a transient or superficial tincture to 
 onr first appearance in life, but most commonly stamp the form of our 
 whole future conduct, and even of our eternal state. 
 
138 REFLECTIONS 
 
 nursery! He visits them early' and latej furnishes them 
 with the properest mould; supplies them with season- 
 able moisture ; guards them from the ravages of insects ; 
 screens them from the injuries of the weather; marks 
 their springing buds ; observes them attentively through 
 their whole progress ; and never intermits his anxiety 
 till he beholds them blown into full perfection. And shall 
 a range of painted leaves, which flourish to-day, and to- 
 morrow fall to the ground — shall these be tended with 
 more zealous application, than the exalted faculties of 
 an immortal soul ? 
 
 Yet trust not in cultivation alone. It is the blessing 
 of the Almighty Husbandman, which imparts success to 
 such labours of love. If God *' seal up the bottles of 
 heaven," and command the clouds to withhold their fat- 
 ness, the best-manured plot becomes a barren desert, 
 And if He restrain the dew of his heavenly benediction, 
 all human endeavours miscarry; the rational plantation 
 languishes ; our most pregnant hopes, from youths of the 
 most promising genius, prove abortive. Their root will 
 be as rottenness, and their blossom tvill go up as dust.'^ 
 Therefore, let parents plant; let tutors water; but let 
 both look up to the Father of sjnrits for the desired in- 
 crease. 
 
 On every side, I espy several budding flowers. As yet, 
 they are like bales of cloth from the packer's warehouse : 
 each is wrapped within a strong enclosure, and its contents 
 are tied together by the hrmest bandages ; so that all their 
 beauties lie concealed, and all their sweets are locked up. 
 Just such is the niggardly wretch, whose aims are all 
 turned inward, and meanly terminated upon himself; 
 who makes his own private interests or personal pleasures 
 the sole centre of his designs, and the scanty circumference 
 of his actions. 
 
 * Isa. V. 24. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEX. 13^ 
 
 Ere long the searching beams will open these silken, 
 folds, and draw them into a graceful e.vpansion. Then, 
 what a lovely blush will glow in their cheeks, and what a 
 balmy odour exhale from their bosoms ! So, when divine 
 grace shines upon the mind, even the churl becomes boun- 
 tiful ; the heart of stone is taken away, and a heart of 
 flesh, a heart susceptible of the softest, most compassion- 
 ate emotions, is introduced in its stead, O ! how sweetly 
 do the social affections dilate themselves under so benign 
 an influence ! just like these disclosing gems, under the 
 powerful eye of day. The tender regards are no longer 
 confined to a single object ; but extend themselves into a 
 generous concern for mankind, and shed liberal refresh- 
 ments on all within their reach.* 
 
 Arise then, thou Sun of Righteousness ; arise, with heat- 
 ing under thy wings 3 and transfuse thy gentle but pene- 
 trating ray through all our intellectual powers. Enlarge 
 every narrow disposition, and fill us with a diffusive bene- 
 volence. Make room in our breasts for the whole human 
 race ; and teach us to love all our fellow-creatures, for 
 their amiable Creator's sake. May we be pleased with 
 their excellencies, and rejoice in their happiness -, but feel 
 their miseries as our own, and with a brother's sympathy 
 hasten to relieve them ! 
 
 Disposed at proper distances, I observe a range of 
 
 * Tlie prophet, describing the charitable temper, very beautifully 
 says, " If thou draw out thy soul to the hungry. — This, 1 think, may 
 not improperly be illustrated by the circumstances observed above. 
 The opening of those buds into a large and extensive spread, is a 
 pretty portrait of the amplitude of a generous heart, which cannot 
 shut up its compassion, or remain unconcerned at any human cala- 
 mity. The freeness and copiousness with which the expanded flowers 
 are continually pouring out their choicest essences, may represent 
 the various acts of an unwearied liberality; together with those 
 endearing words and that cordial affection which embahn, as it were, 
 a gift, double its value, and constitute what the sacred penman 
 styles, drawing out the soul, nu^sj p»sn, deprompseris animani tuain. 
 — Isa. Iviii. 10. 
 
140 REFLECTIONS 
 
 Strong and stately stalks. They stand like towers along 
 the walls of a fortified city, or rise like lofty spires amidst 
 the group of houses. They part, at the top, into several 
 pensile spiky pods, from each of which we shall soon see 
 a fine figure displaying itself, rounded into a form which 
 constitutes a perfect circle, spread wide open into the most 
 frank and communicative air j and tinged with the colour 
 which is so peculiarly captivating to the miser's eye. 
 iB-^But the property I chiefly admire, is its passionate 
 fondness for the sun. When the evening shades take place, 
 the poor flower droops, and folds up its leaves. It mourns 
 all the long night, and pines amidst the gloom, like some 
 -forlorn lover banished from the object of his affections. 
 No sooner does Providence open ^"^the eyelids of the 
 morning," but it meets and welcomes the returning light,* 
 courts and caresses it all the day, nor ever loses sight 
 of the refulgent charmer so long as he continues above 
 the horizon ! In the morning, you may perceive it pre- 
 senting a golden bosom to the eastj at noon, it points 
 upward to the middle sky ; in the evening follows the same 
 attractive influence to the west. 
 
 Surely nature is a book, and every page rich with 
 sacred hints. To an attentive mind the garden turns 
 preacher, and its blooming tenants are so many lively 
 sermons. What an engaging pattern, and what an ex- 
 cellent lesson have we here ! — So let the redeemed of the 
 Lord look unto Jesus,-\ and be conformed to their Beloved. 
 Let us all be heliotropes (if I may use the expression) to 
 the Sun of Righteousness -, let our passions rise and fall, 
 take this course or that, as his word determines, as his 
 holy example guides j let us be so accommodated both to 
 his commanding and providential will, as the wax is turned 
 
 * Ilia suiim, qiiamvis radice tenetur, 
 
 Vertitur ad solem, Ovid. 
 
 t Heb. xii. 2. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 141 
 
 to the imprinted seal 3 or, as the aspect of this enamoured 
 flower^ to the splendid star which creates our day. 
 
 In every enjoi/ment, O thou watchful Christian, look 
 unto Jesus 5 receive it as proceeding from his love^ and 
 purchased by his agonies.^ In every tribulation look unto 
 Jesus 5 mark his gracious hand, managing the scourge, or 
 mingling the bitter cup ; attempering it to a proper degree 
 of severity -, adjusting the time of its continuance ; and 
 ready to make these seeming disasters productive of real 
 good. In every infirmity and falling, look unto Jesus, 
 thy merciful high-priest, pleading his atoning blood, and 
 making intercession for transgressors. In every prayer 
 look unto Jesus, thy prevailing advocate, recommending 
 thy devotions, and '' bearing the iniquity of thy holy 
 things."f In every temptation look unto Jesus, the au- 
 thor of thy strength, and captain of thy salvation 5 who 
 » alone is able to lift up the hands which hang down, to 
 invigorate the enfeebled knees, and make thee more than 
 conqueror over all thy enemies. But especially, when the 
 hour of thy departure approaches j when '*^ thy flesh and 
 thy heart failj" when all the springs of life are irreparably 
 breaking ; then look unto Jesus with a believing eye. J 
 Like expiring Stephen, behold liim standing at the right 
 hand of God, on purpose to succour his people in this 
 their last extremity. Yes, my Christian friend; when 
 thy journey through life is finished, and thou art arrived 
 on the very verge of mortality ; when thou art just launch- 
 ing out into the invisible world, and all before thee is 
 vast eternity J then, O then, be sure to look steadfastly 
 'i 
 
 * He sunk beneath our hea^y woes, 
 \ji-. To raise us to his throne : 
 
 There^s not a gift his hand bestoics^ 
 But cost his heart a groan. — Watts. 
 •f- Exod. xxviii. 38. 
 
 + Look unto me J and be ye saved ^ all the ends of the earth. — Isa. 
 xlv. 22. ^ -ux .cf3H ^^ 
 
142 REFLECTIONS 
 
 unto Jesiis ! '' See by faith the Lord's Christ." View 
 him as the ouly way to the everlasting mansions^* as the 
 only door to the abodes of bliss. f 
 
 Yonder tree, which faces the south, has something too 
 remarkable to pass without observation. Like the fruit- 
 ful though feeble vine, she brings forth a large family of 
 branches \ but, unable to support them herself, commits 
 them to the tuition of a sunny wall. As yet the tender 
 twigs have scarce gemmed their future blossoms. How- 
 ever, I may anticipate the well-known productions, and 
 picture to myself the passion-fioicer ; which will in due 
 time, with a long and copious succession, adorn the 
 boughs. 
 
 f>I have read, in a Latin author, of flowers inscribed 
 \n\\\ the name of kings 3 \ but here is one, imblazoned 
 \v\\h the marks of the bleeding Prince of life. I read in 
 the inspired writings of apostolic men, who bore about 
 in their bodies the dying of the Lord Jesus ;§ but here is 
 a blooming reVigfoso, that carries apparent memorials of 
 the same tremendous and fatal catastrophe. Who would 
 have expected to hnd such a tragedy of wo, exhibited 
 in a collection of the most delicate delights ? or to see 
 Calvary s horrid scene portrayed on the softest ornaments 
 of the garden ? Is nature then actuated by the noble 
 ambition of paying commemorative honours to her agoniz- 
 ing Sovereign ? Is she kindly officions to remind forget- 
 ful mortals of that miracle of mercy, which it is their duty 
 to contemplate, and their happiness to believe ? Or is a 
 sportive imagination my interpreter, and all the supposed 
 resemblance no more than the precarious gloss of fancy ? 
 Be it iso; yet even fancy has her merit, when she sets 
 forth in such pleasing iaiagery the crucified Jesus ? Nor 
 
 * John, xiv. G. - f John, x. 9. 
 
 + Die, qu'ihus in terris inscripti nomina regum 
 
 N a scantur flares— " Vino. 
 
 § 2 Cor. iv. JO. 
 
ON A iTLOWER-GARDEN. 143 
 
 shall I refuse a willing regard to imagination herself, when 
 she employs her creative powers to revive the sense of 
 such unparalleled love^ and prompt my gratitude to so 
 divine a Friend. 
 
 That spiral tendril, arising from the bottom of the stalk, 
 is it a representation of the scourge which lashed the 
 Redeemer's unspotted flesh, and inflicted those stripes by 
 which our souls are healed ? Or is it twisted for the cord 
 which bound his hands -in painful and ignominious con^ 
 finement — those beneficent hands, which were incessantly 
 stretched out to unloose the heavy burdens, and to impart 
 blessings of every choice kind ? Behold the nails which 
 were drenched in his sacred veins, and rivetted his feet to 
 the accursed tree — those beautiful feet,* which always 
 went about doing good, and travelled far and near to 
 spread the glaa tidings of everlasting salvation. See the 
 hammer, ponderous and massy, which drove the rugged 
 irons through the shivering nerves, and forced a passage 
 for those dreadful wedges between the dislocated bones. 
 \"iew the thorns which incircled our royal Master's brow, 
 and shot their keen alilictive points into his blessed head. 
 O the smart ! the racking smart ! when, instead of the 
 triumphal laurel, or the odoriferous garland, that pungent 
 and ragged wreath was planted on the meek Messiah*s 
 forehead ! when violent and barbarous blows of the stronar 
 Eastern canef struck the prickly crown, and fixed every 
 
 * Hoic heautiful are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that 
 jmblisheth peace, that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth 
 solvation ! — Isa. lii. /. 
 
 f " They took the reed," says the sacred historian, ** and smote 
 him on the head; and so, as it were, nailed down the thorns into his 
 forehead and temples, and occasioned thereby exquisite pain, as well 
 as a great effusion of blood." — Family E.vpositor, vol. ii. sect. 188, 
 '* It is most probable," adds the same judicious critic^ ** this was a 
 walking-staff which they put into his hand as a sceptre ; for a bloiJ} 
 with a slight reed would scarce have been felt, or have deserved a 
 mention in a detail of such dreadful sufferings." 
 
144 HEFLECTIONS 
 
 thorn deep in his throbbing temples!* There stand the 
 disciples, ranged in the green impalement^, and forming 
 a circle round the instruments of their great Commander's 
 death. They appear like so many faithful adherents, who 
 breathe a gallant resolution, either of defending their Lord 
 to the last extremity, or of dropping honourably by his 
 side. But did they give such proofs of zeal and fidelity 
 in their conduct, as their steady posture and determined 
 aspect seem to promise ? Alas ! what is all human firm- 
 ness, when destitute of succours from above, but an ex- 
 piring vapour ? AVhat is every saint, if unsupported by 
 powerful grace, but an abandoned traitor? Observe the 
 glory, delineated in double rays, grand with imperial 
 purple, and rich with ethereal blue. But ah ! how in- 
 capable are threads, though spun by summer's finest hand, 
 though dyed in snows, or dipped in heaven, to display the 
 immaculate excellency of his human, or the ineffable ma- 
 jesty of his divine nature ! Compared with these sublime 
 perfections, the most vivid assemblage of colours fades 
 into an unmeaning flatness ; the most charming effects of 
 light and shade are not only mere daubings, but an abso- 
 lute blank. 
 
 Among all the beauties which shine in sunny robes, and 
 sip the silver dews, this, I think, has the noblest import, 
 if not Xhe finest presence. Were they all to pass in review, 
 and expect the award of superiority from my decision, I 
 should not hesitate a moment. Be the prize assigned to 
 
 * Tlie smart attending this unparalleled piece of contempt and 
 barbarity, roust be ineiVpressibli/ severe; not only on account of the 
 many painful punctures made in the flesh, but principally because 
 the periosteum, an exquisitely sensible tegument of the bones, lying, 
 in those parts, very near the external skin, must receive a multitude 
 of terrible wounds, the anguish of which could not fail of being 
 niflamed to an excess of rage, by the continuance of so many thorny 
 lancets in that extremely tender membrane ; which, in such a case, 
 
 . tremblingly alive ail o'er. 
 
 Must smart and agonize at ev'ry po)-e. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 145 
 
 this amiable candidate j which has so eminently distin- 
 guished and so highly dignified herself, by bearing such 
 a remarkable resemblance to '^the righteous Branch j the 
 Plant of renown."* While others appoint it a place in 
 the parterre, I would transplant the passion-flower, or 
 rather transfer its sacred significancy, to my heart. There 
 let it bloom, both in summer and in winter -, bloom in 
 the most impressive characters, and with an undecaying 
 lustre : that I may also wear — wear on my very soul, the 
 traces of Immanuel, pierced for my sins, and bruised for 
 my transgressions : that I also may be crucified ivith 
 Christ, \ at least in penitential remorse, and affectionate 
 sympathy : that I may knov) the felloivshlp of his suffer- 
 ings ;% and feel all my evil affections wounded by his 
 agonies, mortified by his death. 
 
 There is another subject of the verdant kingdom, w^hich, 
 on account of its very uncommon qualities, demands my 
 particular notice : one, so extremely difl&dent in her dis- 
 position, and delicate in her constitution, that she dares 
 not venture herself abroad in the open air, but is nursed 
 up in the warmth of a hot-bed, and lives cloistered in the 
 cells of a green-house. But the most curious peculiarity 
 is, that, of all her kindred species, she alone partakes of 
 perceptive life ; at least advances nearest to this more 
 exalted state of being j and may be looked upon as the 
 link which connects the animal and the vegetable world, 
 A stranger, observing her motions^ would almost be in- 
 duced to suspect, that she is endued with some inferior 
 degrees of consciousness and caution. For if you offer 
 to handle this sensitive plant, she immediately takes an 
 alarm 5 hastily contracts her fibres 5 and, like a person 
 under apprehensions of violence, ivithdraws from your finger 
 in a kind of precipitate disorder. Perhaps the beauty of 
 
 * So the blessed Jesus is described, — Jerem. xxiii. b,-—Ezek, 
 xxxiv. 29. 
 
 t Gal. ii. 20. + Phil. iii. 10, 
 
 L 
 
146 REFLECTIONS 
 
 her aspect might be sullied, or the niceness of her texture 
 discomposed, by the human touch. Therefore, like a coy 
 virgin, she recedes from all unbecoming familiarities, and 
 will admit no such improper, if not pernicious freedoms. 
 
 Whatever be the cause of this unusual eflect, it suggests 
 an instructive admonition to the Christian, Such should 
 be our apprehensive timorous care ^A"ith regard to sin 5 
 and all, even the most distant, approaches of vice. So 
 should we avoid the very appearance of evil, and stand 
 aloof from every occasion of falling. If sinners entice 5 
 if forbidden pleasures tempt 3 or if opportunity beckon, 
 with the gain of injustice in her hand ; O ! turn from the 
 gilded snare 3 touch not the beauteous bane ; but fly, fly 
 with haste, fly \vithout any delay, from the bewitcliing 
 ruin. Does anger draw near with her lighted torch, to 
 kindle the flame of resentment in our breasts } Does Jiat- 
 tenj plv our ears Avith her enchanting and intoxicating 
 whispers r Would discontent lay her leaden hand upon 
 our temper, and mould into our minds her sour leaven^ 
 in order to make us a burden to ourselves and unamiable 
 to others r Instantly let us divert our attention from the 
 dangerous objects ; and not so much endeavour to antidote , 
 as to shun, the moral contagion. Let us revolve in our 
 meditations that wonderful meehness of our distressed 
 Master, which, amidst the most abusive and provoking 
 insults, maintained an uniform tenor of unshaken serenity^ 
 Let us contemplate that prodigious humiliation, which 
 brought him, from an infinite height above all worlds, to 
 make his bed in the dust of death. Let us soothe our 
 iarring, our uneasy passions, with the remembrance of 
 that cheerfulness and resignation, which rendered him, in 
 the deepest poverts", unfeignedly thankful, and, under the 
 heaviest tribulations, most submissively patient. 
 
 Harbour not, on any consideration, the betrayer of your 
 virtue. Be deaf, inflexibly deaf, to ever\' beguiling solici- 
 tation. If it obtrude into the unguarded heart, give it 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 147 
 
 entertainment, no, not for a moment. To parley with the 
 enemy, is to open a door for destruction. Our safety 
 consists in flight ; and, in this case, suspicion is the truest 
 prudence, fear the greatest bravery. Play not on the brink 
 of the precipice. Flutter not round the edges of the flame. 
 Dally not with the stings of death : but reject, with a 
 becoming mixture of solicitude and abhorrence, the very 
 first insinuations of iniquity, as cautiously as the smarting" 
 sore shrinks even from the softest hand j as constantly as 
 this jealous plant recoils at the approaching touch.* 
 
 Not long ago, these curious productions of the spring 
 were coarse and mis-shapen roots. Had we opened the 
 earth, and beheld them in their seed, how uncouth and 
 contemptible had their appearance been ! But now they 
 are the boast of nature ; the delight of the sons of men ; 
 finished patterns for enamelling and embroider^-, outshin-« 
 ing even the happiest strokes of the pencil. They are 
 
 * The prophet Isaiah, in au elecrant and lirely description of f?ie 
 iipj'ight man, says. He shaketh his hands frarn holding of bribes ; and, 
 I may add, from practising any kind of iniquity. The image, ex- 
 ceedingly beautiful and equally expressive, both illustrates and en- 
 forces the doctrine of this whole section. Shaketh his hands: just 
 as a person would do, who happens to have burning coals fall into 
 his lap, or some venomous creature fastening upon his flesh. In such 
 a case, none would stand a moment to consider or to debate with 
 himself the expediency of the thing. He would instantly fling off 
 the pernicious encumbrance, instantly endeavour to disengage himself 
 from the clinging mischief. — Isa. xxxiii. 15. 
 
 I have represented the danger of not extinguishing immediately 
 the very Jirst sparks of temptation in a variety of news ; because 
 a proper behaviour, in this conjuncture, is of such vast importance 
 to the purity, the safety, and the comfort of our minds ; because I 
 had the royal moralist in my eye, who, deterring his pupils from the 
 path of the wicked, cries, with an air of deep concern, and in the 
 language of vehement importunity; cries, Avoid it; pa^s iwt by it ; 
 turn from it, and pass atcay. How strongly is the counsel urged 
 by being so frequently repeated in such a remarkable diversity of 
 concise and abrupt, consequently of forcible and pressing admo. 
 nition.s!^-Prov. iv. 15. 
 
 l2 
 
148 REFLECTIONS 
 
 taught to bloom, but with a very inferior lustre, in the 
 richest tapestries and mo«t magnificent silks. ^ Art never 
 attempts to equal their incomparable elegancies, but places 
 all her merit in copying after these delicate originals. 
 Even those who glitter in silver, or whose clothing is of 
 wrought gold, are desirous to borrow additional ornaments 
 from a sprig of jessamine, or a little assemblage of pinks. 
 
 WTiat a fine idea may we form from hence of the 
 resurrection of the just, and the state of their reanimated 
 bodies ! As the roots even of our choicest flowers, when 
 deposited in the ground, are rude and ungraceful, but 
 when they spring up into blooming life are most elegant 
 and splendid 5 so the flesh of a saint, when committed 
 to the dust, alas ! what is it ? A heap of corruption j a 
 mass of putrefying clay. But, when it obeys the great 
 archangel's call, and starts into a new existence j what 
 an astonishing change ensues ! What a most ennobling 
 improvement takes place ! That which was sown in tveak" 
 nesSy is raised in all the vivacity of power. That which 
 was sown in deformity, is raised in the bloom of celestial 
 beauty. Exalted, refined, and glorified, it will shine '^ as 
 the brightness of the firmament," when it darts the inimi- 
 table blue through the fleeces — the snowy fleeces of some 
 cleaving cloud. 
 
 Fear not then, thou faithful Christian 3 fear not, at the 
 appointed time, to descend into the tomb. Thy soul thou 
 mayst trust with thy omnipotent Redeemer, who is Lord 
 of the unseen world ; '' who has the keys of hell, and of 
 death." Most safely mayst thou trust thy better part in 
 those beneficent hands which were pierced with nails, and 
 
 * The cowslip smiles, in brighter yelloic drest. 
 Than that which veils the nubile virgin's breast : 
 K fairer red stands blushing in the rose. 
 Than that which on the bridegroom's vestments flows. 
 
 Prior's Sol. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 149 
 
 fastened to the ignominious tree, for thy salvation. With 
 regard to thy earthly tabernacle, be not dismayed. It is 
 taken down only to be rebuilt upon a diviner plan, and in 
 a more heavenly form. If it retires into the shadow of 
 death, and lies immured in the gloom of the grave, it is 
 only to return from a short confinement to endless liberty. 
 If it falls into dissolution, it is in order to rise more 
 illustrious from its ruins, and wear an infinitely brighter 
 face of perfection and of glory. 
 
 Having now made my panegyric, let me next take up a 
 lamentation for these loveliest productions of the vegetable 
 world. For I foresee their approaching doom. Yet a 
 little while, and all these pleasing scenes vanish. Yet a 
 little while, and all the sweets of the breathing, all the 
 beauties of the blooming spring, are no more. Every one 
 of these amiable forms must be shrivelled to deformity 
 and trodden to the earth. Significant resemblance this, 
 of all created beauty. All flesh is grass; like the green 
 herbage, liable and prone to fade. Nay, all the goodl'iness 
 thereof, its finest accomplishments, and what the world 
 universally admires, is as the flower of the fleld ;* which 
 loses its gloss, decays and perishes, more speedily than 
 the grass itself. Behold then, ye brightest among the 
 daughters of Eve-, behold yourselves in this glass. See 
 the charms of your person eclipsed by the lustre of these 
 little flowers j and the frailty of your state represented 
 by their transient glories. f A fever may scorch those 
 polished veins 3 a consumption may emaciate the dimpling 
 cheeks j and a load of unexpected sorrows depress those 
 lively spirits. Or should these disasters, in pity, spare 
 
 * Isa. xl. 6. 
 
 •}• Ka« TO jSoSov x«Aov sart, xat o yjpo))OS auTO fiocpoiivei' 
 K«< TO <oi/ xaKov scrt]/ ev sixpi, <<«« Toi-^^y yr}px' 
 
 ASUXOV TO XptVOV l(7Tl, flXpCXIVSTOCl CKVtXX TTtTTTri' 
 
 A §£ X'wv Xsuxa, xoii Taxerai avixx Truy^^y^' 
 
 Ka< xaAXof kixKov eari to TraiBixoVf xXK' oKiyov ^))* 
 
 The reader will excuse me, if I imitate, rather than translate, these 
 
150 REFLECTIONS 
 
 the tender frame j yet age, inexorable age and wrinkles, 
 will assuredly come at last ; will wither all the fine fea- 
 tures, and blast every sprightly grace. 
 
 Then, ye fair, when those sparkling eyes are darkened, 
 and sink in their orbs -, when they are rolling in agonies, 
 or swimming in death, how will you sustain the affliction ? 
 how will you repair the loss ? Apply your thoughts to 
 religion. Attend to the one thing' needful. Believe in, 
 and imitate, the blessed Jesus. Then shall your souls 
 mount up to the realms of happiness, when the well-pro- 
 portioned clay is mingling with its mean original. The 
 light of God's countenance will irradiate, with matchless 
 and consummate perfection, all their exalted faculties. 
 Cleansed entirely from every dreg of corruption, like some 
 
 lines from Theocritus ; if I vary one image, add another, and give a 
 new turn to the whole. 
 
 When snows descend, and robe the fields 
 
 In icinter's bright array ; 
 Touch'd by the sun, the lustre fades. 
 
 And weeps itself away. 
 
 WTien .spring appears ; when violets blow. 
 
 And shed a rich perfume ; 
 How soon the fragrance breathes its last I 
 
 How short-liv'd is the bloom ! 
 
 Fresh in the morn, the summer rose 
 
 Hangs withering ere 'tis noon; 
 We scarce enjoy the balmy gift. 
 
 But mourn the pleasure gone. 
 
 With gliding fire, an evening star 
 
 Streaks the autumnal skies ; 
 Shook from the sphere, it darts away. 
 
 And, in an instant, dies. 
 
 Such are the charms that flush the cheek, 
 
 And sparkle in the eye : 
 So from the lovely finish'd form 
 
 The transient graces fly. 
 
 To this the seasons^ as they roll. 
 
 Their attestation bring : 
 They warn the fair ; their ev'ry round 
 
 Confirms the truth 1 sing. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 151 
 
 unsullied mirror, they will reflect the complete image of 
 their Creator's holiness. O ! that you would thus dress 
 your ininds, and prepare for the immortal state ! Then> 
 from shining among your fellow-creatures on earth, you 
 shall be translated to shine around the throne of God. 
 Then, from being the sweeteners of our life, and the 
 delight of our eyes, here below 3 you shall pass, by an 
 easy transition, into angels of light, and become " an ever- 
 lasting excellency, the joy of all generations." 
 
 Yes ; ye flowery nations, ye must all decay. Yonder 
 lily, that looks like the queen of the gay creation ; see, 
 how gracefully it erects its majestic head ! What an air 
 of dignity and grandeur ennobles its aspect ! For elevated 
 mien, as well as for incomparable lustre, justly may it be 
 preferred to the magnificent monarch of the East.* But, 
 all stately and charming as it is, it will hardly survive 
 a few more days. That unspotted whiteness must quickly 
 be tarnished, and the snowy form defiled in the dust. 
 
 As the lily pleases with the noble simplicity of its ap- 
 pearance, the tulip is admired for the gaiety and multi- 
 plicity of its colours. Never was cup, either painted or 
 enamelled, with such a profusion of dye : its tinges are 
 so glowing ; its contrasts so strong j and the arrangement 
 of them both, so elegant and artful ! 'Twas lately the 
 pride of the border, and the reigning beauty of the delight- 
 ful season. As exquisitely fine as the rainbow, and almost 
 as extremely transient, it spread, for a little moment, its 
 glittering plumage, but has now laid all its variegated and 
 superior honours down. Those radiant stripes are blended, 
 alas ! rudely blended, with common mould. 
 
 To a graceful shape and blooming complexion, the rose 
 adds the most agreeable perfume. Our nostrils make it 
 repeated visits, and are never weary of drinking in its 
 sweets. A fragrance, so peculiarly rich and reviving, 
 
 » jNIatt. vi. 29. 
 
152 EEFLECTIONS 
 
 transpires from its opening tufts ; that every one covets 
 its acquaintance. How have I seen even the accomplished 
 Clarissa, for whom so many votaries languish, fondly 
 caressing this little flower ! That lovely bosom, which is 
 the seat of innocence and virtue j whose least excellency 
 it is to rival the delicacy of the purest snows -, among a 
 thousand charms of its own, thinks it possible to adopt 
 another from the damask rose-bud. Yet even this uni^ 
 versal favourite must fail. Its native balm cannot pre- 
 serve it from putrefaction. Soon, soon, must it resign all 
 those endearing qualities, and hang neglected on its stem, 
 or drop despised to the ground. 
 
 b/jOne could wish, methinks, these most amiable of the 
 inanimate race a longer existence ; but in vain : i\\e,y fade 
 almost as soon as they flourish ,- within less than a month 
 their glories are extinct. Let the sun take a few more 
 journeys through the sky, then visit this enchanting walk, 
 and you will find nothing but a wretched wilderness of 
 ragged or naked stalks — but (my soul exults in the 
 thought) the garment of celestial glory, which shall ere 
 long array the re-animated body, will never wax old. The 
 illustrious robes of a Saviour's consummate righteousness, 
 which even now adorn the justified spirits, are incor- 
 ruptible and immortal. No moth can corrode their tex- 
 ture j no number of ages sully their brightness. The 
 light of day may be quenched, and all the stars sink in 
 obscurity J but the honours of ''just men made perfect," 
 are subject to no diminution. Inextinguishable and un- 
 fading is the lustre of their crown. 
 
 Yes ; ye flowery nations, ye must all decay. Winter, 
 like some enraged and irresistible conqueror, that carries 
 fire and sword wherever he advances ; that demolishes 
 touTis, depopulates countries, spreads slaughter and deso- 
 lation on every side — so, just so, will winter, with his 
 savage and unrelenting blasts^ invade this beautiful pros- 
 pect. The storms are gathering, and the tempests muster* 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 153 
 
 ing their rage, to fall upon the vegetable kingdoms. They 
 will ravage through the dominions of nature, and plunder 
 her riches, and lay waste her charms. Then, ye trees^ 
 must ye stand stripped of your verdant apparel ; and, ye 
 fields, be spoiled of your waving treasures. Then the 
 earth, disrobed of all her gay attire, must sit in sables^ 
 like a disconsolate widow. The sun too, who now rides 
 in triumph round the world, and scatters gaiety from his 
 radiant eye, will then look faintly from the windows of 
 the south 3 and, casting a short glance on our dejected 
 world, will leave us to the uncomfortable gloom of tedious 
 nights. Then these pretty choristers of the air will chant 
 no more to the gentle gales 3 the lark, the linnet, and 
 all the feathered songsters, abandon their notes and in- 
 dulge their woes. The harmony of the woods is at an 
 end 3 and silence, (unless it be interrupted by howling 
 winds,) a sullen silence^ sits brooding upon the boughs, 
 which are now made vocal by a thousand warbling throats. 
 :i But (sweet recollection! ravishing expectation!) the 
 siDngs of saints in light never admit a pause for sadness. 
 All heaven will resound with the melody of their gratitude, 
 and all eternity echo to their triumphant acclamations. 
 Tlie hallelujahs of that world, and the harmonious joy of 
 its inhabitants, will be as lasting as the divine perfections 
 they celebrate. Come then, holy love, and tune my heart ; 
 descend, celestial fire, and touch my tongue, that I may 
 stand ready to strike up, and bear my part in that great 
 hosanna, that everlasting hymn. 
 
 Yes, yes ; ye Jlowery nations, ye must all decay. And, 
 indeed, could you add the strength of an oak, or the 
 stability of a pyramid,* to all the delicacy of your texture 3 
 
 * I know not any performance, in which the transitory nature of 
 these most durable monuments of human grandeur, is hinted with 
 such a modest air of instruction ; or their hideous ruin described in 
 such a pomp of pleasing horror; as in a small, but solemn, pic- 
 turesque, and majestic poem, entitled. The Ruins of Rome, wTitten 
 
154 REFLECTIONS 
 
 yet short, exceeding short, even then, would your duration 
 be. For / see, that all things come to an e nd. The pillars 
 of nature are tottering. The foundations of the round 
 world are falling away. " The heavens themselves wax 
 old like a garment." But, amidst these views of general 
 ruin, here is our refuge -, this is our consolation ; we knoiv 
 that our Redeemer liveth. Thy years, blessed Jesus, shall 
 not fail. From everlasting to everlasting. Thou art still 
 the same j the same most excellent and adorable person j 
 the same omnipotent and faithful friend 3 the same all- 
 sufficient and inestimable portion, O ! may we but par- 
 take of thy merits, be sanctified by thy grace, and received 
 into thy glory ! Then perish, if ye will, all inferior de- 
 lights. Let all that is splendid in the skies, expire ; and 
 all that is amiable in nature, be expunged. Let the whole 
 extent of creation be turned again into one undistinguish- 
 able void, one universal blank. Yet, if God be ours, we 
 shall have enough. If God be ours, we shall have «//, 
 and abound j"^ all that our circumstances can want, or our 
 wishes crave, to make us inconceivably blessed and happy j 
 blessed and happy, not only through this little interval 
 of time, but through the unmeasurable revolutions of 
 eternity. 
 
 by the Rev. Mr. Dyer ; whom the reader (if he has the pleasure of 
 perusing that beautiful piece) will easily perceive to have taken his 
 draughts from the originals themselves ; as nothing but the sight 
 of those magnificent i-emains could have inspired the lines with such 
 vivacity. As a specimen of the work, and a confirmation of the re- 
 mark suggested above, I take leave to transcribe the following pas- 
 sage : 
 
 . The pilgrim oft, 
 
 At dead of night, mid his oraison hears 
 
 Aghast the voice of time, disparting tow'rs. 
 
 Tumbling all precipitate down dash'd. 
 
 Rattling around, loud thund'ring to the moon. 
 
 * His hand the good man fastens on the skies, 
 And bids earth roll, nor feels the idle whirl. 
 
 JSIight Thoughts J No IV. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 155 
 
 The sun is now come forth in his strength, and beats 
 fiercely upon my throbbing pulse. Let me retire to yonder 
 inviting arbour. There the woodbines retain the lucid 
 drop J there the jessamines, which line the verdant alcove, 
 are still impearled, and deliciously wet with dews. Wel- 
 come, ye refreshing shades ! I feel, I feel, your cheering 
 influence. My languid spirits revive j the slackened sinews 
 are new strung 3 and life bounds brisker through all her 
 crimson channels. 
 
 Reclined on this mossy couch, and surrounded by this 
 fragrant coldness, let me renew my aspirations to the ever- 
 present Deity. Here, let me remember and imitate the 
 pious Augustine and his mother Monica ; who, being en* 
 gaged in discourse on the beauties of the visible creation, 
 rose, by these ladders, to the glories of the invisible state -, 
 till they were inspired with the most affecting sense of 
 their supereminent excellency, and actuated with the most 
 ardent breathings after their fuU enjoyment ; insomuch, 
 that they were almost rapt up into the bliss they con- 
 templated 3 and scarce *^ knew whether they were in the 
 body, or out of the body," 
 
 When tempests toss the ocean ; when plaintive signals 
 of distress are heard from the bellowing deep ; and melan- 
 choly tokens of shipwreck come floating on the foaming 
 surge ; then, how delightful to stand safe on shore, and 
 hug one's self in conscious security.* AVhen a glut of 
 tvaters bursts from some mighty torrent, rushes headlong 
 over all the neighbouring plains, sweeps away the helpless 
 cattle, and drives the affrighted shepherd from his hut j 
 
 * As Lucretius gave the hint for these obsen'ations, so he assigns 
 the reason of the pleasure specified. It arises, not from the consi- 
 deration of another's misery; this would argue the rankest malevo- 
 lence : but from the agreeable contemplation of our oivn personal 
 safety; which, while we view circumstances that are pernicious to 
 others, but harmless to ourselves, is not a little heightened by the 
 contrast. Suave mart magnOf 4"C« 
 
156 REFLECTIONS 
 
 then, from the top of a distant eminence, to descry the 
 the danger we need not fear ; how pleasing ! — Such, me- 
 thinks, is my present situation. For now the sun blazes 
 from on high 5 the air glows with his fire 5 the fields are 
 rent with chinks 3 the roads are scorched to dust j the 
 woods seem to contract a sickly aspect, and a russet hue j 
 the traveller, broiled as he rides, hastens to his inn, and 
 intermits his journey 5 the labourer, bathed in sweat, 
 drops the sithe, and desists from his work 3 the cattle flee 
 to some shady covert, or else pant and toss under the 
 burning noon. Even the stubborn rock, smit with the 
 piercing beams, is ready to cleave. All things languish 
 beneath the dazzling deluge — while I shall enjoy a cool 
 hour and calm reflection, amidst the gloom of this bowery 
 recess, which scarce admits one speck of sunshine. 
 
 Thus, may both the flock and their shepherd dwell 
 beneath the defence of the Most High, and abide under the 
 shadow of the Almighty* Then, though the pestilence 
 walketh in darkness, and the sickness destroyeth at noon- 
 day 3 though thousands fall beside us, and ten thousands 
 at our right-hand 3 we need fear no evil.f Either the de- 
 stroying angel shall pass over our houses ; or else he shall 
 dispense the corrections of a friend, not the scourges of an 
 enemy 3 which, instead of hurting us, shall work for our 
 good. Then, though profaneness and infidelity, far more 
 malignant evils, breathe deadly contagion, and taint the 
 morals of multitudes around us 3 yet, if the great Father of 
 Spirits ^^ hide us in the hollow of his hand," we shall hold 
 fast our integrity, and be faithful unto death. 
 
 Let then, dearest Lord, O ! let thy servant, and the 
 people committed to his care, be received into thy protec- 
 tion. Let us take sanctuary under that tree of life, erected 
 in thy ignominious cross. Let us fly for safety to that 
 
 * Psal. xci. 1. 
 
 f This was written when a very infectious and mortal distemper 
 raged in the neighbourhood. 
 
ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 157 
 
 city of refuge, opened in thy bleeding wounds. These 
 shall be a sacred hiding-place, not to be pierced by the 
 flames of divine wrath, or the fiery darts of temptation. 
 Thy dying merits and perfect obedience, shall be to our 
 souls as rivers of water hi a dry place, or as the shadow of 
 a great rock hi a weary land.* 
 
 But most of all, in that last tremendous day, when the 
 heavens are rent asunder, and wrapped up like a scroll 5 
 when thy Almighty arm shall arrest the sun in his career, 
 and dash to pieces the structure of the universe j when the 
 dead, both small and great, shall be gathered before the 
 throne of thy glory ; and the fates of all mankind hang on 
 the very point of a final irreversible decision: — then, 
 blessed Jesus, let us be owned by Thee, and we shall not 
 be ashamed; defended by Thee, and we shall not be 
 afraid. O ! may we, at that awful, that unutterably im- 
 portant juncture, be covered with the wings of thy re- 
 deeming love 3 and we shall behold all the horrible con- 
 vulsions of expiring nature, with composure, with comfort ! 
 We shall even welcome the dissolution of all things, as the 
 times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.f 
 I' There are, I perceive, w^ho still attend the flowers 3 and, 
 in defiance of the sun, ply their work on every expanded 
 blossom. The bees I mean 3 that nation of chymists, to 
 whom nature has communicated the rare and valuable 
 secret, of enriching themselves without impoverishing 
 others ; who extract the most delicious syrup from every 
 fragrant herb, without wounding its substance, or diminish- 
 ing its odours. I take the more notice of these ingenious 
 operators, because I would willingly make them my pat- 
 tern. | Wliile the gay butterfly flutters her painted wings^ 
 and sips a little fantastic delight only for the present 
 
 * Tsa. xxxii. 2. f Acts, iii, 19. 
 
 Ego apis Matinee 
 
 More modoque 
 Grata carpentis t/i^ma. — UoR, 
 
158 REFLECTIONS 
 
 moment ; while tlie gloomy spider, worse than idly busied, 
 is preparing his insidious nets for destruction, or sucking 
 venom, even from the most wholesome plants ; this frugal 
 community are wisely employed in providing for futurity, 
 and collecting a copious stock of the most balmy treasures. 
 And O ! might these meditations sink into my soul ! 
 Would the God, who suggested each heavenly thought, 
 vouchsafe to convert it into an established principle; to 
 determine all my inclinations, and regulate my whole con- 
 duct! I should then gather advantages from the same 
 blooming objects, more precious than your golden stores, 
 ye industrious artists. I also should go home, laden with 
 the richest sweets and the noblest spoils ,- though I crop not 
 a leaf, nor call a single flower my own. 
 
 Here I behold, assembled in one view, almost all the 
 various beauties which have been severally entertaining 
 my imagination. The vistas, struck through an ancient 
 wood, or formed by rows of venerable elms, conducting the 
 spectator's observation to some remarkable object, or lead- 
 ing the traveller's footsteps to this delightful seat 3 the 
 walls enriched with fruit-trees, and faced with a covering 
 of their leafy extensions j I should rather have said, hung 
 with different pieces of nature's noblest tapestry ; the walks 
 neatly shorn and lined with verdure, or finely smoothed 
 and coated with gravel 3 the alleys arched with shades to 
 embower our noon-tide repose, or thrown open for the 
 free accession of air, to invite us to our evening recreation 3 
 the decent edgings of box, which enclose, like a plain 
 selvage, each beautiful compartment, and its splendid 
 figures 3 the shapely evergreens andjlowering shrubs, which 
 strike the eye, and appear with peculiar dignity in this 
 distant situation 5 the basin with its crystal fount floating 
 in the centre, and diffusing an agreeable freshness through 
 the whole 3 the waters, falling from a remote cascade, and 
 gently murmuring as they flow along the pebbles 3 these, 
 added to the rest, and all so disposed^ that each recom- 
 
ON A FLOWER-GABDEN. 159 
 
 mends and endears each, render the ivhole a most sweet 
 ravishing scene of order and variety, of elegance and mag- 
 nificence. 
 
 From so many lovely prospects clustering upon the 
 sight, it is impossible not to be reminded of heaven ; that 
 world of bliss, those regions of light, where the Lamb that 
 was slain manifests his beatific presence^ and his saints live 
 for evermore. But O ! what pencil can sketch out a 
 draught of that goodly land ! What colours or what style 
 can express the splendours of Immanuel's kingdom ! 
 Would some celestial hand draw aside the veil but for one 
 moment, and permit us to throw a single glance on those 
 divine abodes ; how would all sublunary possessions be- 
 come tarnished in our eyes, and grow flat upon our taste ! 
 A glimpse, a transient glimpse of those unutterable beati- 
 tudes, would captivate our souls, and engross all their 
 faculties. Eden itself, after such a vision, would appear 
 a cheerless desert, and all earthly charms intolerable de-* 
 formity. 
 
 Very excellent things are spohen of thee, thou city of 
 God* Volumes have been written, and those by inspired 
 men, to display the wonders of thy perfections. All that 
 is rich and resplendent in the visible creation has been 
 called in to aid our conceptions, and elevate our ideas ; 
 but indeed, no tongue can utter, no pen can describe, no 
 fancy can imagine, what God, of his unbounded munifi- 
 cence, has prepared for them that love him. Seeing then 
 that all terrestrial things must come to a speedy end, and 
 there remaineth a rest, a blissful and everlasting rest, for 
 the people of God ; let me never be too fondly attached 
 to any present satisfactions. Weaned from whatever is 
 temporal, may I maintain a superior indifference for such 
 transitory enjoyments 3 but long, long earnestly for the 
 mansions that are above^ the paradise '^'^ which the Lord 
 
 * Psal. Ixxxvii. 2. 
 
160 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 
 
 hath planted, and not man." Thither may I transmit the 
 chief of my conversation, and from thence expect the whole 
 of my happiness. Be that the sacred, powerful magnet 
 which ever influences my heart, ever attracts my affections. 
 There are such transcendent glories, as eye has not seen j 
 there are such transporting pleasures, as ear has not heard ; 
 there is such a fulness of joys, as the thought of man can- 
 not conceive. 
 
 Into that consummate felicity, those eternal fruitions, 
 permit me. Madam, to wish you, in due time, an abundant 
 entrance-, and to assure you, that this wish is breathed 
 with the same sincerity and ardour for my honoured cor- 
 respondent, as it is^ Madam, for 
 
 Your most obedient, &c. 
 
 J. HERVEY. 
 
A DESCANT 
 
 UPON 
 
 CREATION. 
 
 With joy, witli grief, that healing hand I see ; 
 The Skies it form'd, and yet it bled for me. 
 
 Ni-ght T/iouff/if?, N" IV 
 
 M 
 
A DESCANT 
 
 UPON 
 
 CREATION. 
 
 If the reader pleases to look back on page 125, he will 
 find me engaged, by a promissory note, to subjoin a Descant 
 upon Creation, 
 
 To know the love of Christ ; to have such a deep appre- 
 hension of his unspeakable kindness, as may produce in 
 our hearts an adoring gratitude and an unfeigned faith j 
 this, according to St. PauVs estimate, is the highest and 
 happiest attainment in the sacred science of Christianity."^ 
 "What follows is an attempt to assist the attentive mind in 
 learning a line or two of that best and greatest lesson. It 
 introduces the most conspicuous parts of the visible system, 
 as so many prompters to our dull affections 3 each suggest- 
 ing a hint adapted to the important occasion, and suited to 
 its respective character. 
 
 Can there be a more powerful incentive to devout grati- 
 tude, than to consider the magnificent and delicate scenes 
 of the universe, with a particular reference to Christ as 
 the Creator? Every object, viewed in this light, will 
 surely administer incessant recruits to the languishing lamp 
 of divine love. Every production in nature will strike a 
 spark into the soul, and the whole creation concur to raise 
 the smoking flax into a flame. 
 
 * Eph. iii. 19. 
 
 m2 
 
164 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 Can any thing impart a stronger joy to the believer, or 
 more effectually confirm his faith in the crucified Jesus, 
 than to behold the heavens declaring his glory, and the 
 firmament showing his handy-work? Surely it must be 
 matter of inexpressible consolation to the poor sinner, to 
 observe the honours of his Redeemer written with sup.- 
 beams over all the face of the world. _^ 
 
 We delight to read an account of our incarnate Jehovah, 
 as he is revealed in the books of Moses and the prophets, 
 as he is displayed in the writings of the evangelists and 
 apostles. Let us also endeavour to see a sketch of his 
 perfections, as they stand delineated in that stately volume, 
 where every leafis a spacious plain 3 every line, a flowing 
 brook J every period, a lofty mountain. 
 
 Should any of my readers be unexercised in such specu- 
 lations, I beg leave (in pursuance of my promise) to pre- 
 sent them with a specimen, or to offer a clew, which may 
 possibly lead their minds into this most improving and 
 delightful train of thinking. 
 
 Should any be inclined to suspect the solidity of the 
 following observations, or to condemn them as the voice 
 of rant, and the lawless flight of fancy ; 1 must entreat 
 such persons to recollect, that the grand doctrine, the 
 hinge on which they all turn, is warranted and established 
 by the unanimous testimony of the inspired penmen, who 
 frequently celebrate Immanuel, or Christ Jesus, as the 
 great Almighty Cause of all j assuring us, that all things 
 were created by him and for him, and that in him all things 
 consist.* 
 
 On such a subject, what is wonderful is far from being 
 extravagant. To be wonderful, is the inseparable charac- 
 teristic of God and his works, especially of that most dis- 
 tinguished and glorious even of the divine works, redemp- 
 
 * Col. i. 16, 17. Before my reader enters upon the following des- 
 cant, he is desired to peruse the note, page 101. 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. i 65 
 
 tion; so gloriousj that "all the miracles va. Egypt, and 
 the marvellous acts in the field of Zoan f all that the 
 Jewish annals have recorded, or the human ear has heard 5 
 all dwindle into trivial events, are scarce worthy to be 
 remembered * in comparison of this infinitely grand and 
 infinitely gracious transaction. Kindled, therefore, into 
 pleasing astonishment by such a survey, let me give full 
 scope to my meditations ; let me pour out my whole soul on 
 the boundless subject ; not much regarding the limits which 
 cold criticism, or colder unbelief, might prescribe. 
 
 O ye angels, that surround the throne ; ye princes of 
 heaven, " that excel in strength," and are clothed with 
 transcendent brightness : He, who placed you in those sta- 
 tions of exalted honour, and dignified your nature with such 
 illustrious endowments j He, whom you all obey and all 
 adore ; He took not on him the angelic form, but was made 
 fleshy and found in fashion as a man. Like us wTCtched 
 mortals, he was subject to weariness, pain, and every 
 infirmity, sin only excepted j that we might one day be 
 raised to your sublime abodes, be adopted into your bliss- 
 ful society, and join with your transported choir in giving 
 glory to him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb 
 for ever and ever.f 
 
 O ye heavens, whose azure arches rise immensely high, 
 and stretch unmeasurably wide ; stupendous amphitheatre ! 
 amidst whose vast expansive circuit, orbs of the most 
 dreadful grandeur are perpetually running their amazing 
 races ; unfathomable depths of sether ! where worlds un- 
 numbered float, and, to our limited sight, worlds unnum- 
 bered are lost : He who adjusted your dimensions with his 
 span^ and formed the magnificent structure with his word j 
 He was once wTapped in swaddling-clothes, and laid in 
 a manger 3 that the benefits accruing to his people, through 
 his most meritorious humiliation^ might have no other 
 
 * Isa. xliii. 18. f Rev. v. 13, 
 
166 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 measure of their value than immensity j might run parallel, 
 in their duration, with eternity. 
 
 Ye stars, that beam with inextinguishable brilliancy 
 through the midnight sky • oceans of flame and centres of 
 worlds, though seemingly little points of light : He who 
 shone with essential effulgence, innumerable ages before 
 your twinkling tapers were kindled, and will shine with 
 everlasting majesty and beauty when your places in the 
 firmament shall be known no more j He was involved for 
 many years in the deepest obscurity 3 lay concealed in the 
 contemptible city Nazareth ^ lay disguised under the mean 
 habit of a carpenter's son j that he might plant the hea- 
 vens,* as it were, with new constellations, and array these 
 clods of earth, these houses of clay, with a radiancy far 
 superior to yours ; a radiancy which will adorn the very 
 heaven of heavens, when you shall vanish away like 
 smoke,f or expire as momentary sparks from the smitten 
 steel. 
 
 Comets J that sometimes shoot into the illimitable tracts 
 of aether, farther than the discernment of our eye is able 
 to follow J sometimes return from the long, long excursion, 
 and sweep our affrighed hemisphere with your enormous 
 fiery train j that sometimes make near approaches to the 
 sun, and burn almost in his immediate beams j sometimes 
 retire to the remotest distance, and freeze for ages in the 
 excessive rigours of winter : He, who at his sovereign 
 pleasure withdraws the blazing wonder, or leads forth the 
 
 * Isa. li. 16. 
 
 •f- Alluding to a passage in Isaiah, which is, I think, grand and 
 elevated beyond all comparison. Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and 
 look upon the earth beneath; for the heavens shall vanish away like 
 smoke, and the earth shall ivax old like a garment, and they that dwell 
 therein shall die like the feeble insect ; but my righteousness shall be 
 for ever, and my salvation shall not be abolished. — Isa. li. 6. With 
 the great Vitringa, I translate the words tD »D3 not, in like manner, 
 \)Wi like the feeble bisect; which renders the period more complete, 
 the sense more emphatical, and is more agreeable to the genius of 
 the sacred original. i^ 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 167 
 
 portentous stranger to shake terror over guilty kingdoms 3 
 He was overwhelmed with the most shocking amazement, 
 and plunged into the deepest anxiety 5 was chilled with 
 apprehensions of fear, and scorched by the flames of aveng- 
 ing wrath ; that I, and other depraved rebellious creatures, 
 might not be eternally agitated with the extremes of jarring 
 passions 5 opposite, yet on either side tormenting ; far 
 more tormenting to the soul, than the severest degrees of 
 your heat and cold to the human sense. 
 
 Ye planets, that, winged with unimaginable speed, tra- 
 verse the regions of the sky ; sometimes climbing millions 
 and millions of miles above, sometimes descending as far 
 below the great axle of your motions : ye that are so mi- 
 nutely faithful to the vicissitudes of day and night, so ex- 
 actly punctual in bringing on the changes of your respective 
 seasons : He who launched you at first from his mighty 
 arm 5 who continually impels you with such wonderful 
 rapidity, and guides you with such perfect regularity 3 
 who fixes " the habitation of his holiness and his glory," 
 infinite heights above your scanty rounds ; He once be- 
 came a helpless infant, sojourned in our inferior world, 
 fled from the persecutor's sword, and wandered as a vaga- 
 bond in a foreign land ; that he might lead our feet into 
 the way of peace ; that he might bring us aliens near to 
 God, bring us exiles home to heaven. 
 
 Thou sun, inexhausted source of light, and heat, and 
 comfort ! who, without the assistance of any other fire, 
 sheddest day through a thousand realms, and not confining 
 thy munificence to realms only, extendest thy enlightening 
 influences to surrounding worlds ; prime cheerer of the 
 animal, and great enlivener of the vegetable tribes ! so 
 beautiful in thyself, so beneficial in thy effects, that erring 
 heathens addressed thee with adorations, and mistook thee 
 for their Maker ! He who filled thy orb with a profusion 
 of lustre, before whom thy meridian splendours are but a 
 shade j He divested himself of his all-transcending dis- 
 
1 68 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 iinctions, and drew a veil over the effulgence of his di- 
 vinity ; that, by speaking to us face to face, as a man 
 speaketh unto his friend, he might dispel our intellectual 
 darkness. His " visage was marred,"* and he became 
 the scorn of men, the outcast of the people 3 that, by this 
 manifestation of his unutterably tender regard for our wel- 
 fare, he might diffuse many a gleam of joy through our 
 dejected minds -, that, in another state of things, he might 
 clothe even our fallen nature with the honours of that 
 magnificent luminary, and give all the righteous to shine 
 forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. 
 
 Thou moon, that walkest among the host of stars, and 
 •in thy lucid appearance art superior to them all ! fair 
 ruler of the night; sometimes half restoring the day with 
 thy waxing brightness ; sometimes waning into dimness, 
 and scarcely scattering the nocturnal gloom j sometimes 
 covered with sackcloth, and alarming the gazing nations : 
 He who dresses thy opaque globe in beaming but borrowed 
 silver ; He whose dignity is unchangeable, underived,- and 
 all his own ; He vouchsafed to wear a body of clay ; he 
 was content to appear as in a bloody eclipse, shorn of 
 his resplendent beams, and surrounded with a night of 
 horror, which knew not one reviving ray. Thus has he 
 empowered his church, and all believers, to tread the moon 
 under their feet.f Hence, inspired with the hope of 
 brighter glory and more enduring bliss, are they enabled 
 to triumph over all the vain anxieties and vainer amuse- 
 ments of this sublunary, precarious, mutable world. 
 
 Ye thunders, that, awfully grumbling in the distant 
 clouds, seem to meditate indignation, and form the first 
 essays of a far more frightful peal ; or, suddenly bursting 
 over our heads, rend the vault above, and shake the ground 
 below, with the hideous, horrid crack: ye that send your 
 tremendous volleys from pole to pole, startling the savage 
 herds,:}: and astonishing the human race: He who permits 
 * Isa. lii, 14. t Rev. xii. 1. J Psal. xxix. 8. 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 169 
 
 terror to sound her trumpet in your deep, prolonged, 
 enlarging, aggravated roar ; He uttered a feeble infantile 
 cry in the stable, and strong expiring groans on the ac- 
 cursed tree ; that he might, in the gentlest accents, whisper 
 peace to our souls, and at length tune our voices to th« 
 melody of heaven, ?? »j ,?iRm 
 
 O ye lightnings^ that brood, and lie couchant in the 
 sulphureous vapours ; that glance, with forked fury, from 
 the angry gloom, swifter and fiercer than the lion rushes 
 from his den ; or open into vast expansive sheets of flame, 
 sublimely waved over the prostrate world, and fearfully 
 lingering in the affrighted skies : ye, that formerly laid 
 in ashes the licentious abodes of lust and violence ; that 
 will, ere long, set on fire the elements, and co-operate in 
 the conflagration of the globe : He who kindles your flash, 
 and directs you when to sally, and where to strike 3 He 
 who commissions your whirling bolts, whom to kill and 
 whom to spare 5 He resigned his sacred person to the 
 most barbarous indignities, submitted his beneficent hands 
 to the ponderous hammer and the piercing nail, yea, with- 
 held not his heart, his very heart, from the stab of the 
 executioner's spear 5 and, instead of flashing confusion on 
 his outrageous tormentors, instead of plunging them to 
 the depths of hell with his frown, he cried — in his last 
 moments, and with his agonizing lips, he cried, ^' Father, 
 forgive them 3 for they know not what they do !" — O ! what 
 a pattern of patience for his saints ! what an object of 
 admiration for angels ! what a constellation of every mild, 
 amiable, and benign virtue -, shining, in this hour of dark- 
 ness, with ineffable splendour and beauty!* — Hence, 
 
 * One can hardly forbear animadverting upon the disingenuous 
 temper and perverse taste of Celsus^ who attempts to tnrn this most 
 distinguishing and ornamental part of our Lord's life into ridicule 
 and reproach. Having spoken of Christ as despitefully used, and 
 arrayed in a purple robe|. crowned with thorns, and holding, by^ay 
 
170 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 hence it is, that we are not trembling under the lightnings 
 of Mount S'mai ; that we are not blasted by the flames of 
 divine vengeance j or doomed to dwell with everlasting 
 burnings. 
 
 Ye frowning wintry clouds ; oceans pendent in the air^ 
 and burdening the winds : He, in whose hand you are an 
 overflowing scourge, or by whose appointment an arsenal 
 
 of mock majesty, a reed instead of a sceptre (for he enters into all 
 these circumstances, which is a testimony to their truth even from 
 the mouth of an enemy), he adds : T< ouk, h [xyj TrpoaOev, aKKcx. wv youw 
 S'e/ov T/ £7r«8e/xvLiTa< ; nai ry\g ctiay^jvyig TauTvjf sauTov piiertxi, xai rovg vSpi^ov- 
 T«f £/f sauTOi/ re xat tov narspa. 8/xa<o< ; Orig. contra Cels. p. 81. i.e. 
 *' fVhy^ in the name of loonderSy does he not, on this occasion^ at leasty 
 act the god? Why does he not deliver himself from this shocking 
 ignominy, or execute some signal vengeance on the authors of such 
 injurious and abusive insults, both of himself and his Father ?" — Why, 
 Celsus? Because he was meekness and gentleness itself; whereas 
 your deities were slaves to their own turbulent and resentful passions. 
 Because they were little better than savages in human shape, who 
 too often made a merit of slaughter, and took a horrid pride in 
 spilling blood ; while Christ was the Prince of Peace, and came not 
 to destroy men's lives, but to save. Because any madman on earth, 
 or fury from hell, is capable of venting his rage ; but who, amidst 
 such insufferable provocations and barbarities ; who, having in his 
 own hand the power to rescue himself, the power to avenge himself, 
 could submit to all ^vith an unruffled serenity of patience ; and not 
 only not be exasperated, but overcome, in so triumphant a manner, 
 evil ivith good ? None but Christ ! none but Christ ! This was 
 compassion worthy of a God ; clemency and charity truly divine. 
 
 Therefore the calumny raised by the same virulent objector in 
 another place carries its own confutation, or rather falls with a 
 weight of infamy on his dunghill deities ; while it bears a most 
 honourable testimony to the majestic and invincible meekness of our 
 Saviour. 2u [xev, says he to the Christian, ra ayaXyuara toutoiv Xo/SojOwv 
 xaraysXaf, o? aurov ye tov A/ovi/crov ri tov H^oaxXsa vrapovTa. et sKoi^opvjcrag, 
 tvx av iffuj; yjs>-ip<x)v aTTYjkKa^ag' tov ye aov ©sov TTOipovTa xoiToceivovreg xcti 
 KoXa?'o!/T£?, ouSev otrotvTX Bpaa-avreg Tren-ovQaa-iv. ibid. p. 404. i. e. '* Vou, 
 indeed, take upon you to deride the images of our deity ,- but if Bacchus 
 himself or Hercules had been present, you tvould not have dared to 
 off er such an affront; or if you had been so presumptuous, tvould have 
 severely smarted for your insolence. Whereas they ivho tormented the 
 very person of your God, and even extended him with mortal agony on 
 the cross, suff'ered no effects of Ms displeasure." 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 171 
 
 of warlike stores :* He who opens your sluices, and a flood 
 gushes forth, to destroy the fruits of the earth, and drown 
 the husbandman's hopes ; who moulds you into frozen 
 balls, and you are shot, linked with death, f on the troops 
 of his enemies : He, instead of discharging the furiousness 
 of his wrath upon this guilty head, poured out his prayers, 
 poured out his sighs, poured out his very soul, for me and 
 my fellow-transgressors 3 that by virtue of his inestimable 
 propitiation, the overflowings of divine good-will might be 
 extended to sinful men ; that the skies might pour down 
 righteousness 3 and peace, on her downy wings, peace^ 
 with her balmy blessings, descend to dwell on earth. 
 
 Ye vernal clouds, furls of finer air, folds of softer mois- 
 ture : He who draws you in copious exhalations from the 
 briny deep, bids you leave every distasteful quality behind, 
 and become floating fountains of sweetest waters 3 He, who 
 dissolves you into gentle rain, and dismisses you in fruitful 
 showers 5 who kindly commissions you to drop do^vn fat- 
 ness as you fall, and to scatter flowers over the field 3 He, 
 in the unutterable bitterness of his spirit, was without 
 any comforting sense of his Almighty Father's presence j 
 He, when his bones were burnt up like a firebrand, had 
 not one diop of that sacred consolation which, on many 
 of his afflicted servants, has been distilled as the evening 
 
 * Juvenal seems to consider the clouds under this same character 
 in that beautiful line, 
 
 Quidquid habent telorum armamentaria cceli. 
 
 t Job has informed us, for what purpoi<e the magazines of the 
 firmament are stocked with hail. That they may be ready against 
 the day of battle and war. — Job, xxx^'iii. 23. Joshua has recorded 
 what terrible slaughter has been made by those missive tceapons of 
 the Almighty. — Josh. x. 11. Modern historians relate, that when 
 Edward III. invaded France, a shower of hailstones descended, of 
 such a prodigious size, that six thousand horses, and one thousand 
 men, were struck dead instantaneously. But the most dreadful 
 description of this great ordnance of the heavens is given us in 
 Rev. xvi. 21. There fell upon men a great hai! out of heaven, every 
 stone about the weight of a taWnt. 
 
172 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 dews, and has '*^ given songs in the night" of distress} 
 that, from this unallayed and inconsolable anguish of our 
 all-gracious Master, we, as from a well of salvation, might 
 derive large draughts of spiritual refreshment. 
 
 Thou grand ethereal bow, whose beauties flush the 
 firmament, and charm every spectator : He who paints 
 thee on the fluid skirts of the sky, who decks thee with all 
 the pride of colours, and bends thee into that graceful and 
 majestic figure^ at whose command thy vivid streaks 
 sweetly rise, or swiftly fade; He, through all his life, 
 was arrayed in the humble garb of poverty, and at his 
 exit wore the gorgeous garment of contempt ; insomuch 
 that even his own familiar friends, ashamed or afraid to 
 own him, '" hid as it were their faces from him ;"* to 
 teach us a becoming disdain for the unsubstantial and 
 transitory glitter of all worldly vanities ; to introduce us, 
 in robes brighter than the tinges of thy resplendent arch, 
 even in the robes of his own immaculate righteousness, 
 to introduce us before that august and venerable throne, 
 which the peaceful rainbow surrounds, surrounds as a 
 pledge of inviolable fidelity and infinite mercy. *' "' '' 
 
 Ye storms and tempests, which vex the continent, and 
 toss the seas ; which dash navies on the rocks, and drive 
 forests from their roots : He, whose breath rouses you 
 into such resistless fury, and whose nod controls you in 
 your wildest career ; He, who holds the rapid and raging 
 hurricane in straitened reins, and walks, dreadfully se- 
 rene, on the very wings of the wind j He went, all meek 
 and gentle, like a lamb to the slaughter for us ; and as 
 a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not 
 his mouth. Thus are we instructed to bear, with decent 
 magnanimity, the various assaidts of adversity 3 and to 
 
 * Isa. lii. 3. "IJ0J3 CD'JIS) nDDOD Fuit tanquam aUquis^ a quo 
 quisque faciem occuUaret. He was as some flagitious and abandoned 
 wretch, from whom every one, disdaining such a character, and dis- 
 claiming such an acquaintance, studiously hid his face. 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 173 
 
 pasSj with a becoming tranquillity of temper^ through all 
 the rude blasts of injurious treatment. Thus are we 
 delivered from the unutterably fiercer storms of incensed 
 and inexorable justice, from the " fire, the brimstone, and 
 the horrible tempest, which will be the final portion of 
 the ungodly." 
 
 Thou pestilence, that scatterest ten thousand poisons 
 from thy baleful wings, tainting the air, and infecting the 
 nations 3 under whose malignant influence, joy is blasted, 
 and nature sickens j mighty regions are depopidated, and 
 once crowded cities are left without inhabitants : He, who 
 arms thee with inevitable destruction, and bids thee march 
 before his angry countenance,* to spread desolation among 
 the tents of the wicked, and be the forerunner of far more 
 fearful indignation ; He, in his holy humanity, was ar- 
 raigned as a criminal 3 and, though innocence itself, yea, 
 the very pattern of perfection, was condemned to die like 
 the most execrable miscreant. As a nuisance to society 
 and the very bane of the public happiness, he was hurried 
 away to execution, and hammered to the gibbet 3 that by 
 his blood, he might prepare a sovereign medicine, to cure 
 us of a more fatal distemper than the pestilence which 
 walketh in darkness, or the sickness which destroyeth 
 at noon-day 3 that he might himself say to our last enemy, 
 '^ O death, I will be thy plague 3 O grave, I will be thy 
 destruction. "f. 
 
 Heat, whose burning influence parches the Libyan wilds, 
 tans into soot the Ethiopians complexion, and makes every 
 species of life pant, and droop, and languish : Cold, whose 
 icy breath glazes ytdidy i\\.e, Russian seas, often glues the 
 frozen sailor to the cordage, and stiffens the traveller into 
 a statue of rigid flesh : He, who sometimes blends you 
 both, and produces the most agreeable temperature 3 some- 
 
 * Before him went the pestilence. '^Unh, iii. 5. 
 f Hos. xUi. 14. 
 
174 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 times suffers you to act separately, and rage with intoler- 
 able severity J that King of Heaven, and Controller of 
 universal Nature, when dwelling in a tabernacle of clay, 
 was exposed to chilling damps, and smitten by sultry 
 beams. The stars, in their midnight watches, heard him 
 pray 3 and the sun, in his meridian fervours, saw him toil. 
 Hence are our frozen hearts dissolved into a mingled flow 
 of wonder, love, and joy ; being conscious of a deliverance 
 from those insufferable flames, which, kindled by divine 
 indignation, burn to the lowest hell. 
 
 Thou ocean, vast world of waters ! He, who sunk that 
 capacious bed for thy reception, and poured the liquid 
 element into unfathomable channels 3 before whom all thy 
 foaming billows and floating mountains are as the small 
 drop of a bucket -, who, by the least intimation of his will, 
 swells thy fluid kingdoms, in wild confusion, to mingle 
 with the clouds , or reduces them in calm composure to 
 slumber on the shores : He, who once gave thee a warrant 
 to overwhelm the whole earth, and bury all its degenerate 
 inhabitants in a watery grave ; but has now laid an ever- 
 lasting embargo on thy boisterous waves, and bound thee, 
 all fierce and madding as thou art, in chains stronger than 
 adamant, yet formed of despicable sand: — all the waves 
 of vengeance and wrath, of tribulation and anguish, passed 
 over his crucified body, and his agonizing soul ; that we 
 might emerge from those depths of misery, from that abyss 
 of guilt, into which we were plunged by Adains fall, and 
 more irretrievably sunk by our own transgressions j that, 
 at the last, we might be restored to that happy world, 
 which is represented, in the vision of God, as having " no 
 seaj"* to denote its perpetual stability and undisturbed 
 serenity. 
 
 Ye mountains, that overlook the clouds, and project 
 a shade into distant provinces} everlasting pyramids of 
 
 * Rev. xxi. 1 . 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 175 
 
 nature, not to be shaken by conflicting elements, not to 
 be shattered by the bolts of thunder, nor impaired even 
 by the ravages of time : He who bid your ridges rise so 
 high, and your foundations stand so fast j He, in whose 
 scale you are lighter than dust j in whose eye you are 
 less than nothing j He sunk beneath a load of woes ; woes 
 insupportable, but not his own ; when he took our iniqui- 
 ties upon himself, and heaved the more than mountainous 
 burden from a guilty world. 
 
 Ye verdant woods, that crown our hills, and are crowned 
 yourselves with leafy honours : ye humble shrubs, adorned 
 in spring with opening blossoms, and fanned in summer 
 by gentle gales j ye, that in distant climes, or in cultivated 
 gardens, breathe out spicy odours, and embalm the air 
 with delightful perfumes : your all-glorious and ever- 
 blessed Creator's head, was incircled with the thorny 
 wreath ; his face was defiled with contumelious spitting, 
 and his body bathed in a bloody sweat ; that- we might 
 wear the crown, the crown of glory, which fadeth not 
 away ; and live for evermore, surrounded with delights, 
 as much surpassing yours, as yours exceed the rugged 
 desolations of winter. 
 
 Thou mantling vine; He who hangs on thy slender 
 shoots, the rich, transparent, weighty cluster 3 who, under 
 thy unornamented foliage, and amidst the pores of thy 
 otherwise worthless bough, prepares the liquor — the re- 
 fined and exalted liquor, which cheers the nations, and 
 fills the cup of joy : Trees, whose branches are elevated 
 and waving in air, or diffused in easy confinement along 
 a sunny wall : He, who bends you with a lovely burden 
 of delicious fruits, whose genial warmth beautifies their 
 rind and mellows their taste ; He, when voluntarily sub- 
 ject to our wants, instead of being refreshed with your 
 generous juices or regaled with your luscious pulp, had 
 a loathsome potion of vinegar, mingled with gall, addressed 
 
176 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 to his lips ', that we might sit under the shadow of his 
 merits with great tranquillity and the utmost complacency j 
 that^ ere long, being admitted into the paradise of God, 
 we might eat of the tree of life,* and drink new wine 
 with him in his Father's kingdom. 
 
 Ye luxuriant meadoivs -, He who, without the seedsman's 
 industry, replenishes your irriguous lap with never-failing 
 crops of herbage, and enamels their cheerful green with 
 flowers of every hue : Ye fertile fields ,• He who blesses 
 the labours of the husbandman, enriches your well-tilled 
 plains with waving haiTcsts, and calls forth the staff of 
 life from your furrows 3 He, who causes both meadows 
 and fields to laugh and sing for the abundance of plenty : 
 He was no stranger to corroding hunger and parching 
 thirsty He, alas! ate the bitter bread of wo, and had 
 " plenteousness of tears to drink," that we might partake 
 of richer dainties than those which are produced by the 
 dew of heaven, and proceed from the fatness of the 
 earth j that we might feed on " the hidden manna," and 
 eat the bread which giveth life, eternal life, unto the 
 world. 
 
 Ye mineSy rich in yellow ore, or bright with veins of 
 silver 3 that distribute your shining treasures as fj^r as 
 winds can waft the vessel of commerce 3 that bestow your 
 alms on monarchs, and have princes for your pensioners : 
 Ye beds of gems, toy-shops of nature ! which form, in 
 dark retirement, the glittering stone 3 diamonds, that 
 sparkle with a brilliant water 3 rubies, that glow with a 
 crimson flame 5 emeralds, dipped in the freshest verdure 
 of spring 3 sapphires, decked with the fairest drapery of 
 the sky 3 topaz, emblazed with the golden gleam 3 amethyst, 
 impurpled with the blushes of the morning : He who 
 tinctures the metallic dust, and consolidates the lucid 
 drop 3 He, when sojourning on earth, had no riches but 
 
 « Rev. ii. 7. 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 1/7 
 
 the riclies of disinterested ])cncvolcnce ; had no ornament, 
 but the ornament of unspotted purity. Poor he was in 
 his circai instances, and mean in all his accommodations 3 
 that we might be rich in grace, and '^ obtain salvation 
 with eternal glory-" that we might inhabit the new Jeru- 
 mlem, that splendid city, whose streets are paved with 
 gold 3 whose gates are formed of pearl 3 and the walls 
 garnished with all manner of precious stones.* 
 
 Ye gushing fountains, that trickle potable silver through 
 the matted grass : Ye fine transparent streams, that glide 
 in crystal waves along your fringed banks : Ye deep and 
 stately rivers, that wind and wander in your course, to 
 spread your favours wider ; that gladden kingdoms in 
 yoijr progress, and augment the sea with your tribute : 
 He who supplies all your currents from his own ever- 
 flowing and inexhaustible liberality 3 He, when his nerves 
 were racked with exquisite pain, and his blood inflamed 
 by a raging fever, cried, / thirst, and was denied (unpa- 
 ralleled hardship !) in this his great extremity, was denied 
 the poor refreshment of a single drop of water 3 that we, 
 having all-sufficiency in all things, might abound to every 
 good work 3 might be filled with the fulness of spiritual 
 blessings here, and hereafter be satisfied with that fulness 
 of joy which is at God's right hand for evermore. 
 
 Ye birds, cheerful tenants of the bough, daily dressed 
 in glossy plumage 3 who wake the morn, and solace the 
 groves with your artless lays : inimitable architects ! who^ 
 without rule or line, build your pensile structures with all 
 the nicety of proportion 3 you have each his commodious 
 nest, roofed with shades and lined with warmth to protect 
 and cherish the callow brood 3 but He, who tuned your 
 throats to harmony, and taught you that curious skill 3 
 He was a man of sorrows, and had not where to lay his 
 head 3 had not where to lay his head, till he felt the pangs 
 
 * Rev. xxi. 19, 21. 
 
 N 
 
178 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 of dissolution, and was laid in the silent grave j that we, 
 dwelling under the wings of omnipotence, and resting in 
 the bosom of infinite love, might spend an harmonious 
 eternity in " singing the song of Moses and of the Lamb." 
 
 Bees, industrious workmen ! that sweep, with busy wing, 
 the flowery garden ; and search the blooming heath 5 and 
 sip the mellifluous dews : strangers to idleness ! that ply, 
 with incessant assiduity, your pleasing task, and sufl'er no 
 opening blossom to pass unexplored, no sunny gleam to 
 slip away unimproved : most ingenious artificers ! that 
 cling to the fragrant buds, drain them of their treasured 
 sweets, and extract (if I may so speak) even the odorife- 
 rous souls of herbs, and plants, and flowers 5 you, Avhen 
 you have completed your work j have collected, refined, 
 and securely lodged the ambrosial stores ; when you 
 might reasonably expect the peaceful fruition of your 
 acquisitions 3 you, alas ! are barbarously destroyed, and 
 leave your hoarded delicacies to others -, leave them to be 
 enjoyed by your very murderers. I cannot but pity your 
 hard destiny ! How then should my bowels melt with 
 sympathy, and my eyes flow with tears,^ when I remem- 
 ber, that thus, thus it fared with your and our Incarnate 
 Maker ! After a life of the most exemplary and exalted 
 piety 3 a life, filled with offices of beneficence and labours 
 of love 3 he was, by wicked hands, crucified and slain. 
 He left the honey of his toil, the balm of his blood, and 
 the riches of his obedience, to be shared among others 3 
 to be shared even among those, who too often crucify 
 him afresh, and put him to open shame. 
 
 Shall I mention the animal, f which spins her soft, her 
 
 * Canst thou, ungrateful man, his torments see, 
 
 Nor drop a tear for him, who poufd his hlood for thee .' 
 
 Pitt's Poems. 
 
 f No one, I hope, will be offended at my introducing, on such 
 an occasion, creatures of so low a rank, since, even the volumes 
 of inspiration seem to lend me the sanction of their sacred authority; 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 179 
 
 shining, her exquisitely fine silken thread ; whose match- 
 less manufactures lend an ornament to grandeur, and make 
 royalty itself more magnificent ? Shall I take notice of the 
 cell, in which, when the gaiety and business of life are 
 over, the little recluse immures herself and spends the 
 remainder of her days in retirement ? Shall 1 rather 
 observe the sepulchre, which, when cloyed with pleasure 
 and weary of the world, she prepares for her own inter- 
 ment? or how, when a stated period is elapsed, she 
 wakes from a death-like inactivity, breaks the inclosure 
 of her tomb, throws off the dusky shroud, assumes a new 
 form, puts on a more sumptuous array, and, from an insect 
 creeping on the ground, becomes a winged inhabitant of 
 the air } No : this is a poor reptile ,• and therefore un- 
 worthy to serve as an illustration, when any character of 
 the Son of God comes under consideration. But let me 
 correct myself. Was not Christ (to use the language of 
 his own blessed Spirit) a ivorm, and no man ?* in appear- 
 ance such, and treated as such ? Did he not also bequeath 
 the fine linen of his own most perfect righteousness to 
 compose the marriage-garment f for our disarrayed and 
 
 as they disdain not to compare the blessed Jesus to a doo)'y a high- 
 way y &.C. And perhaps all comparisons, which respect a Being of 
 infinite dignity, are not only mean, but equally mean and unworthy. 
 
 1 am sensible, likewise, that in this paragi-aph and some others, 
 all the circumstances are not completely correspondent ; but if, in 
 some grand particulars, the reddition answers to the description, 
 this, I trust, will be sufficient for my purpose, and satisfactory to 
 my readers. Perhaps, it would be no mistaken caution, to apply 
 the same observation to many of the beautiful similitudes, parables, 
 and allegories, used by our Lord; such as the brazen serpent ^ the 
 unjust stewardy the thief in the night, ^^c. which, if scrupulous 
 sifted, or rigorously strained for an entire coincidence in every cir- 
 cumstance, must appear to great disadvantage, and lead into palpable 
 inconveniences. 
 
 * Psalm xxii. 6. 
 
 f This and several other hints interspersed in this Avork, refer 
 to the active and passive righteousness of Christ, imputed to believers 
 for their justification; which, in the opinion of many great exposi- 
 
 n2 
 
180 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 defiled souls ? Did he not, before his flesh saw corrup- 
 tion, emerge triumphant from the grave j and not only 
 mount the lower firmament, but ascend the heaven of 
 
 tors, is the mystical and the most sublime meaning of the wedding" 
 garment, so emphatically and forcibly recommended by the Teacher 
 sent from God, Mutt. xxii. 11 ; a doctrine, which some of those who 
 honour my meditations with a perusal, probably may not receive 
 with much, if any, approbation. I hope the whole performance will 
 not be cashiered for one difference in sentiment ; and I beg that 
 the sentiment itself may not hastily be rejected without a serious 
 hearing : for I have the pleasure of being intimately acquainted 
 with a gentleman of good learning and distinguished sense, who had 
 &nce as strong prepossessions against this tenet as can w'ell be 
 imagined ; yet now he not only admits it as a truth, but embraces it 
 as the joy of his heart, and cleaves to it as the rock of his hopes. "■-* ' 
 
 A clear and cogent treatise, entitled Submission to the Righteous* 
 ness of Gody was the instrument of removing his prejudices, and 
 reducing him to a better judgment ; in which he has been happily 
 confirmed by the authority of the most illustrious names, and the 
 works of the most eminent pens, that have ever adorned our church 
 and nation. In this number are. Bishop Jewel, one of our great re- 
 formers ; and the other venerable compilers of our homilies — Arch- 
 bishop Usher, that oracle of universal learning — Bishop Hall, the 
 devout and sprightly orator of his age — the copious and fervent 
 Bishop Hopkins — the singularly good and unaffected Bishop Beve- 
 ridge — that everlasting honour of the bench of judicature. Lord 
 Chief Justice /^a/e5 — the nervous, florid, and persuasi\^e Dean Stan- 
 jiope — the practical and perspicuous Mr. Bur ket — and, to summon 
 no other evidence, that matchless genius Milton, who in various 
 parts of his divine poem inculcates this comfortable truth, and in one 
 passage represents it under the very same image which is made use of 
 above. Book X. 1. 222. 
 
 I had almost forgot to mention that the treatise entitled Subtnis- 
 sion, S^c. was written by Mr. Benjamin Jenks, whose Book of De- 
 votions has deservedly passed through eleven editions, is ti-uly ad- 
 mirable for the sublimity, spirituality, and propriety of the senti- 
 ments, as well as for the concise form and pathetic turn of the 
 expression ; whose Book of Meditations, though no less worthy of 
 general acceptance, has for a considerable time been almost unknown 
 and extinct, but is now revived, and is lately republished, in two 
 octavo volumes, by Mr. James Rivington ; for which seiVice he has 
 my thanks ; I flatter myself, he will have the thanks of the public : 
 as I am persuaded, could religion and virtue speak, he would have 
 their acknowledgments also; since few treatises are more happily 
 calculated to represent religion in its native beauty, and to promote 
 the interests of genuine virtue : on which account, I trust, the candid 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. . 181 
 
 heavens, take possession of those sublime abodes, in our 
 name, and as our forerunner } 
 
 Ye cattle, that rest in your inclosed pastures ; ye beasts, 
 that range the unlimited forest ; je^sk, that rove through 
 trackless paths of the sea ; sheep, clad in garments, which, 
 when left by you, are wore by kings ; kine, who feed on 
 verdure, which, transmuted in your bodies, and strained 
 from your udders, furnishes a repast for queens ; lions, 
 roaring after your prey 5 leviathan, taking your pastime 
 in the great deep 5 with all that wing the firmament, or 
 tread the soil, or swim the wave : He who spreads his 
 ever hospitable board, who admits you all to be his 
 continual guests, and suffers you to want no manner of 
 thing that is good j He was destitute, afflicted, tormented 5 
 He endured all that was miserable and reproachful, in 
 order to exalt a degenerate race, who had debased them- 
 selves to a level with the beasts that perish, unto seats 
 of distinguished and immortal honour, in order to introduce 
 the slaves of sin and heirs of hell into mansions of consum- 
 mate and everlasting bliss. 
 
 Surely, the contemplation of such a subject, and the 
 distant anticipation of such a hope, may almost turn earth 
 into heaven, and make even inanimate nature vocal with 
 praise. Let it then break forth from every creature. Let 
 the meanest feel the inspiring impulse 5 let the greatest 
 acknowledge themselves unable worthily to express the 
 stupendous goodness. 
 
 Praise Him, ye insects that crawl on the ground ; who, 
 though high above all height, humbled himself to dwell 
 in dust. Birds of the air, waft on your wings, and warble 
 
 will excuse me, and the judicious will not condemn me, even though 
 the recommendation of those devotions and of these meditations may 
 appear to be a digression from my subject. 
 
 N. B. Should the reader be inclined to examine the afore-mentioned 
 tenet, he will find it stated, discussed, and applied to its due improve- 
 menty in a piece entitled Theron and Aspasio. 
 
182 DESCANT UPON" CREATION. 
 
 in your notes, his praise^, who, though Lord of the celestial 
 abodes, while sojourning on earth, wanted a shelter com- 
 modious as your nests. Ye rougher world of brutes^ join 
 with the gentle songsters of the shade, and howl to Him 
 your hoarse applause, who breaks the jaw-bones of the 
 infernal lion, who softens into mildness the savage dispo- 
 sition, and bids the wolf lie down, in amicable agreement, 
 with the lamb. Bleat out, ye hills j let broader loivs be 
 responsive from the vales j ye forests catch, and ye rocks 
 retain, the inarticulate hymn / because Messiah the Prince 
 feeds Ms fiock like a shepherd ; he gathereth the lambs with 
 his arm ; he carries them in his bosom, and gently leads 
 those that are with young.* Wave, ye stately cedars, in 
 sign of worship, wave your branching heads to Him, who 
 meekly bowed his own on the accursed tree. Pleasing 
 prospects, scenes of beauty, where nicest art conspires 
 with lavish nature to form a paradise below, lay forth all 
 your charms, and in all your charms confess yourselves 
 a mere blank, compared with his amiableness, who is 
 " fairest among ten thousand, and altogether lovely." 
 Drop down, ye shotvers ; and testify, as you fall j testify 
 of his grace, which descends more copiously than the rain, 
 distils more sweetly than the dew. Let sighing gules 
 breathe, and murmuring rivulets flow ; breathe and flow- 
 in harmonious consonance to Him, whose Spirit is far 
 more reviving than the cooling breeze, who is himself the 
 Fountain of living Waters. 
 
 Ye lightnings, blaze to his honour j ye thunders, sound 
 his praise j while reverberating clouds return the roar, 
 and bellowing oceans propagate the tremendous anthem. 
 Mutest of creatures, add your silent orator}-, and display 
 the triumphs of his meekness -, who, though he maketh 
 the clouds his chariot, and treadeth upon the waves of 
 the sea ^ though the thunder is his voice, and the lightning 
 
 * Isa. xl. 11. 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 183 
 
 his sword of justice ; yet, amidst the most abusive and 
 cruel injuries, was submissive and lifted not his hand, 
 was '' dumb and opened not his mouth." Great source of 
 day, address thy radiant homage to a far subllmer sun. 
 Write, in all thy ample round, with every lucid beam, 
 O ! write a testimony to Him, who is the brightness of 
 his Father's glory, who is the Sun of Righteousness to 
 a sinful world ; and is risen, never to go down j is risen, 
 to be our everlasting light. Shine clear, ye skies -, look 
 gay, thou earth ,• let the floods clap their hands, and let 
 every creature wear a smile : for he cometh, the Creator 
 himself cometh, to be manifested in the flesh j and with 
 him comes pardon, peace, and joy ; every virtue and all 
 felicity comes in his train. Angels and archangels, let 
 your songs be of Jesus, and teach the very heavens to 
 echo with his adored aad majestic name. Ye beheld him, 
 with greater transports of admiration, when you attended 
 his agony in the garden, and saw him prostrate on the 
 ground j than when you beheld universal nature rising at 
 his call, and saw the wonders of his creating might. Tune 
 to loftiest notes your golden harps, and waken raptures, 
 unknown before even in heavenly breasts j while all that 
 has breath swells the concert of harmony, and all that has 
 he'ing unites in the tribute of praise. 
 
 Chiefly, let man exalt his voice ^ let man, with dis- 
 tinguished hosannas, hail the Redeemer. For man, he 
 was stretched on the racking cross j for man, he was 
 consigned to the gloomy sepulchre 3 for man, he procured 
 grace unmeasureable, and bliss inconceivable. However 
 different, therefore, in your age, or more different in your 
 circumstances, be unanimous, O men, in magnifying a 
 Saviour, who is no respecter of persons ; who gave him- 
 self a ransom for all. Bend, ye kings, from your thrones 
 of ivory and gold j in your robes of imperial purple, fail 
 prostrate at His feet -, who forsook a nobler throne, and 
 laid aside more illustrious ensigns of majesty, that you 
 
184 PESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 might reign with God for ever and ever. Children of 
 poverty y meanest of mortals (if any can be called poor, 
 who are thus enriched ; if any can be accounted mean, who 
 9-re thus ennobled) 5 rejoice, greatly rejoice, in God your 
 Saviour, who chose to be indigent, was willing to be con- 
 temned, that you might be entitled to the treasures, and 
 be numbered with the princes of heaven. Sons of aj^ictmi, 
 though harassed with pain, and inured to anguish;, O ! 
 change your groans into songs of gratitude 3 let no com- 
 plaining voice, no jarring string be heard in the universal 
 symphony ; but glorify the Lamb even in the fires, "^ who 
 himself bore greater torment than you feel, and has pro- 
 mised you a share in the joy which he inherits 3 who has 
 made your sufferings short, and will make your rest eter- 
 nal. Men of hoary locks, bending beneath a weight of 
 years, and tottering on the brink of the grave j let Christ 
 be your support under all infirmities ; lean upon Christ, 
 as the rock of your salvation. Let his name, his precious 
 name, form the last accents which quiver on your pale 
 expiring lips. And let this be the first that lisps on your 
 tongues, ye tender infants ; remember your Redeemer in 
 your earliest moments ; devote the choicest of your hours 
 to the learning of his will, and the chief of your strength 
 to the glorifying of his name 3 who, in the perfection of 
 health, and the very prime of manhood, was content to 
 become a motionless and ghastly corpse 3 that you might 
 be girt with the vigour, and clothed with the bloom of 
 eternal youth. 
 
 Ye spirits of Just men made perfect, who are released 
 from the burden of the flesh, and freed from all the vex- 
 atious solicitations of corruption in yourselves 3 delivered 
 from all the injurious effects of iniquity in others 3 who 
 sojourn no longer in the tents of strife, or the territories 
 of disorder 3 but are received into that pure, harmonious, 
 
 * Isa. xxiv. 15. 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 185 
 
 holy society, where every one acts up to his amiable and'' 
 exalted character ; where God himself is pleased graciouslif'\ 
 and hi, mediately to preside : you find, not without pleasing'' 
 astonishment, your hopes improved into actual enjo}Tneut,' 
 and your faith superseded by the beatic vision. You feel 
 all your former sh^mess of behaviour happily lost in the 
 overflowings of unbounded love^ and all your little differ- ' 
 ences of opinion entirely bore down by tides of invariable 
 truth. Bless, therefore^ with all your enlarged powers, 
 bless his infinitely larger goodness j who, when he had 
 overcome the sharpness of death, opened the gates of 
 paradise, opened the kingdom of heaven, to all generations^ 
 and to everv denomination of the faithful. 
 
 Ye men of holy conversation and humble tempers, think 
 of Him who loved you, and washed you from your sins in 
 his own blood ; think of him on your silent couch j talk 
 of him in every social interview ; glory in his excellencies ; 
 make your boast of his obedience, and add, still continue 
 to add, the incense of a dutiful life, to all the oblations 
 of a grateful tongue, TVeahest of believers, who go mourn- 
 ing under a sense of guilt, and conflicting with the cease- 
 less assaults of temptation 3 put oflf your sackcloth^, and 
 be girded with gladness 5 because Jesus is as merciful 
 to hear, as he is mighty to help j because he is touched 
 with the tenderest sympathizing concern for all your dis- 
 tresses j and he lives, ever lives, to be your advocate M'ith 
 the Father. Why then should uneasy doubts sadden your 
 countenances ? Why should desponding fears oppress vour 
 souls ? Turn, turn those disconsolate sighs into cheerful 
 h^Tuns, since you have his powerful intercession, and his 
 inestimable merits, to be your anchor in all tribulations, to 
 be your passport into eternal blessedness. 
 
 Most of allj ye ministers oi i\\e sanctuary, heralds com- 
 missioned from above 3 lift, every one, his voice hke a 
 trumpet, and loudly proclaim the Redeemer, Get ye up, 
 ye ambassadors of peace, get ye up into the high moun- 
 
186 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
 
 tains, and spread far and wide the honours of the Lamb, 
 *' that was slain, but is alive for evermore." Teach every 
 sacred roof to resound with his fame, and every human 
 heart to glow with his love. Declare, as far as the force 
 of words will go, declare the inexhaustible fulness of that 
 great atonement, whose merits are commensurate with 
 the glories of the Divinity.* Tell the sinful wretch what 
 pity yearns in Immanuel's bowels 5 what blood he has 
 spilt, what agonies he has endured, what wonders he 
 has wrouffht for the salvation of his enemies. Invite the 
 indigent to become rich 3 entreat the guilty to accept of 
 pardon j because with the crucified Jesus is plenteous 
 redemption, and all-sufficiency to save. While you, placed 
 in conspicuous stations, pour the joyful sound j may I, 
 as I steal through the vale of humble life, catch the pleas- 
 ing accents ! For me, the Author of all blessings became 
 a curse: forw^e, his bones were dislocated, and his flesh 
 was torn : he hung with streaming veins, and an agonizing 
 soul, on the cross for 7ne. O ! may I, in my little sphere, 
 and amidst the scanty circle of my acquaintance, at least 
 
 * If iu this place and others, I have spoke magnificently of the 
 blood of Christ, and its insuperable efficacy to expiate guilt, I think 
 it is no more than is expressed in a very celebrated hymn, written 
 by one of the greatest witSy who had also been one of the greatest 
 Uherthies^ and afterwards commenced one of the most remarkable 
 2)enUentSy in France; a hymn, which even Mr. Bmjle confesses to 
 be a very fine one ; which another great critic calls an admirahte 
 one • and which, a genius superior to tliem both, recommends as a 
 noble one. (See Spect. vol. vii. N*^ 513.) 
 
 The author, having acknowledged his crimes to be, beyond mea- 
 sure heinous, and almost beyond forgiveness provoking; so provok- 
 ing, as to render tears from such eyes offensive, and prayers from 
 such lips abominable: — composes himself to submit, without the 
 least repining sentiment ; to submit, even with praise and adoration, 
 to the most dreadful doom. Accordingly, he stands in resigned 
 expectation of being instantly struck by the bolts of vengeance : but, 
 with a turn of thought equally surprising and sprightly ; with a faith 
 properly founded, and happily firm, he adds, 
 
 Yet where ! O where ! can e'v'n thy thunders fall .' 
 Christ's blood o'erspreads and shields me from them all. 
 
DESCANT UPON CREATION. 187 
 
 whisper these glad transporting tidings ; whisper them from 
 my own heart, that they may surely reach^ and sweetly 
 penetrate theirs. 
 
 But, when men and angels raise the grand hymn ; when 
 all worlds, and all beings, add their collective acclama- 
 tions, this full, fer\^ent, and universal chorus will be so 
 inferior to the riches of the Redeemer's grace, so dispro- 
 portionate to the magnificence of his glory, that it will 
 seem but to debase the unutterable subject it attempts to 
 exalt. The loud hallelujah will die aicay in the solemn 
 mental eloquence of prostrate, rapturous, silent adoration : 
 
 O goodness infinite I goodness immense ! 
 
 And love that passeth knotcledge ! Words are vain ; 
 
 Language is lost in wonders so divine. 
 
 " Come then, expressive silence^ muse his praise." 
 
CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 THE NIGHT, 
 
 Night is fair Virtue's immemorial friend : 
 The conscious moon, through ev'17 distant age. 
 Has held a lamp to JVisdom. 
 
 Night Thoughts, N« V. 
 
TO 
 
 PAUL ORCHARD, 
 
 OF 
 
 STOKE-ABBEY, IN DEVONSHIRE, ESQ. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 As your honoured father was pleased to make choice of me to answer 
 in your name at the font, and to exercise a sort of guardianship over 
 your spiritual interests ; permit me, by putting these little treatises 
 into your hand, to fulfil some part of that solemn obligation. 
 
 Gratitude for many signal favours, and a conscientious regard to 
 my sacred engagement, have long ago inspired my breast with the 
 warmest wishes, both for your true dignity and real happiness. Nor 
 can I think of a more endearing or a more effectual way of advancing 
 either the one or the other, than to set before you a sketch of your 
 excellQwt father' s character. Illustrious examples are the most win- 
 ning incitements to virtue ; and none can come attended with such 
 particular recommendations to you. Sir, as the pattern of that Avorthy 
 person, from whom you derive your very being. 
 
 A most cordial and reverential esteem for the Divine Word, was 
 one of his remarkable qualities. Those oracles of Heaven were his 
 principal delight and his inseparable companions. Your gardens, 
 your solitary Avalks, and the hedges of your fields, can witness ^nth 
 what au unwearied assiduity he exercised himself in the law of the 
 
192 t>EDICATION. 
 
 Lord.* From hence he fetched his maxims of wisdom, and formed 
 liis judgment of things. The sacred precepts were the model of his 
 temper and the guide of his life, while the precious promises were 
 the joy of his heart and his portion for ever. 
 
 Improving company was another of his most relishing pleasures. 
 Few gentlemen were better furnished either with richness of fancy, 
 or copiousness of expression, to bear a shining part in conversation. 
 With these talents he always endeavoured to give some useful, gene- 
 rally some religious turn to the discourse. Nor did he ever reflect 
 with greater complacency on his social hours, than when they had 
 tended to glorify the Eternal Majesty, and to awaken in himself and 
 others a more lively spirit of devotion. 
 
 To project for the good of others was his frequent sttidy, and to 
 carry those benevolent contrivances into execution his favourite 
 employ. When visited by the young persons of the neighbourhood, 
 far from taking an ungraceful pride to initiate them in a debauchei7, 
 or confirm them in a riotous habit, it was his incessant aim, by 
 finely-adapted persuasives, to encourage them in industry, and es- 
 tablish them in a course of sobriety ; to guard them against the 
 allurements of vice, and animate them with the principles of piety ; 
 a noble kind of hospitality this, which will probably transmit its 
 beneficial influence to their earthly possessions, to their future fami- 
 lies, and even to their everlasting state. 
 
 A conviction of human indigence, and a thorough persuasion of the 
 divine all-sufficiency, induced him to be Jrequent in prayer. To pros- 
 trate himself in profound adoration, before that infinitely exalted 
 Being who dwells in light inaccessible, was his glory ; to implore the 
 continuance of the Almighty favour, and the increase of all Christian 
 graces, was Ms gain. In those moments, no doubt, he remembered 
 you. Sir, with a particular earnestness, and lodged many an ardent 
 petition in the court of heaven for his infant son. Cease not to 
 
 Josh. xxiv. 27. 
 
DEDICATION. 193 
 
 second them with your owti devout supplications, that they may 
 descend upon your head " in the fulness of the blessings of the Gospel 
 of peace." 
 
 To give their genuine lustre to all his other endowments, he was 
 careful to maintain an humble mind. Though his friends might ad- 
 mire his superior abilities, or his acquaintance applaud his exemplary 
 behaviour, he saw how far he fell short of the mark of his high call- 
 ing; saw, and lamented his defects; saw, and renounced himself; 
 relying, for tinal acceptance and endless felicity, on a better righteous- 
 ness than his own ; even on the transcendently perfect righteousness 
 and inconceivably precious death of Jesus the Redeemer. This was 
 the rock of his hope, and the very crown of his rejoicing. 
 
 These, Sir, are some of the distinguishing characteristics of your 
 deceased parent. As you had the misfortune to lose so valuable a 
 relative, before you was capable of forming any acquaintance with 
 his person, I flatter myself you will the more attentively obsen'e 
 his picture; this his moral picture, designed, not to be set in gold, 
 or sparkle in enamel, but to breathe in your spirit, and to live in 
 all your conduct ; which, though it be entirely your own, calculated 
 purely for yourself, may possibly, (like family pieces in your parlour, 
 that glance an eye upon as many as enter the room) make some 
 pleasing and useful impression on every beholder. May every one, 
 charmed with the beautiful image, catch its resemblance ; and each 
 in his respective sphere, ** go and do likewise." 
 
 But you. Sir, are peculiarly concerned to copy the amiable original. 
 As the order of an indulgent Providence has made you heir of the 
 affluent circumstances, let not a gay and thoughtless inadvertence cut 
 you off from the richer itiheritance of these noble qualifications. These 
 will be your security amidst all the glittering dangers, which are inse- 
 parable from blooming years, and an elevated situation in life : these are 
 your path, your sure and only path, to true greatness and solid happi- 
 uess. Tread in these steps, and you cannot fail to be the darling 
 of your friends, and the favourite of Heaven : tread in these steps, 
 
 o 
 
194 DEDICATION. 
 
 and you will give inexpressible joy to one of the best of mothers ; 
 you will become an extensive blessing to your fellow-creatures ; and 
 which, after such most engaging motives, is scarce worthy to be 
 mentioned, you will be the delight, the honour, and the boast of. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your very affectionate godfather. 
 
 And most faithful humble seiTant, 
 
 Weston-Favell, near JAMES HERVEY. 
 
 Northampton, 
 July 14, 1747. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 We have already exercised our speculations on 
 the Tombs and Flowers, surveying nature covered 
 with the deepest horrors, and arrayed in the richest 
 beauties. Allegory taught many of the objects 
 to speak the language of virtue ; while Imagination 
 lent her colouring, to give the lessons an engaging 
 air ; and this with a view of imitating that divine 
 Instructor, who commissioned the lili/j^ in her 
 silver suit, to remonstrate in the ear of unbelieving 
 reason ; who sent his disciples (men ordained to 
 teach the universe) to learn maxims of the last 
 importance from the most insignificant birds,* that 
 wander through the paths of the air, from the very 
 meanest Herbs* that are scattered over the face of 
 the ground-t 
 
 * Matt. vi. 26, 28, 29, 30. 
 
 + Celebrated writers, as Demosthenes and Cicero^ Thucydides and 
 Livy, are observed to have a style peculiar to themselves. Now, 
 whoever considers the discourses of Christy will find him distinguish- 
 ing himself by a style which may properly be called Ms own. Ma- 
 jestic, yet familiar ; happily uniting dignity with condescension ; it 
 consists in teaching his followers the sublimest truths by spiritualizing 
 
 o2 
 
W6 PREFACE. 
 
 Emboldened by the kind acceptance of the pre- 
 ceding sketches, I beg leave to confide in the same 
 benevolence of taste^ for the protection and support 
 of the two remaining Essays, which exhibit a 
 prospect of a still life and grand operation ; which 
 moralize on the most composed and most magnifi- 
 cent appearances of things ; in which fancy is 
 again suffered to introduce her imagery, but only 
 as the handmaid of truth; in order to dress her 
 person and display her charms, to engage the at- 
 
 on the most coinm&n occurrences j which, besides its being level to 
 tlie lowest apprehensions, and admirably adapted to steal into the 
 most inattentive heart, is accompanied with this very singular advant- 
 age — that it turns even the sphere q^ business into a school ofinstruc- 
 tioiiy and renders the most ordinary objects a set of monitors, ever 
 soliciting our regard, because ever present to our senses. So that, I 
 believe, it may be said of this amiable method, in which our Lord 
 conveyed, as well as of that powerful energy which attended his 
 doctrines, that never man spake like this man. The harvest approach- 
 ing, he reminds his disciples of a far more important harvest, John^ 
 iv. 35. Matt, xiii. 39, when immortal beings shall be reaped from 
 the grave, and gathered in from all the quarters of the earth ; when 
 every human creature shall sustain the character of valuable wheat 
 or despicable tares; and accordingly be lodged in mansions of ever- 
 lasting security, or consigned over to the rage of unquenchable fire. 
 In his charge to fishermen, when they are commencing preachers. 
 Matt. iv. 19, he exhorts them, conformably to the nature of their 
 late occupation, to use the same assiduity and address in winning 
 souls, as they were wont to exercise in catching the finny prey. For 
 the farther illustration of this no less useful than curious subject, 
 I would refer my reader to a valuable note in Sir Isaac Newton's 
 Observations on the Prophecies, p. 148. 4to. edition. 
 
PREFACE. 197 
 
 tention and win the love even of the gay and of 
 the faskipnable; which is more Ukely to be effected 
 by forming agreeable pictures of nature, and de- 
 riving instructive observations, than by the labori- 
 ous method of long-deduced arguments or close- 
 connected reasonings. The contemplation of the 
 heavens and the earth, of their admirable properties 
 and beneficial changes, has always afforded the 
 most exalted gratification to the human mind. In 
 compliance with this prevailing taste, I have drawn 
 my serious admonitions from the stupendous theatre 
 and variegated scenery of the universe ; that the 
 reader may learn his duty from his very pleasures, 
 may gather wisdom, mingled with virtue, from the 
 most refined entertainments and noblest delights. 
 
 The evening, drawing her sables over the world, 
 and gently darkening into night, is a season pecu- 
 liarly proper for sedate consideration. All circum- 
 stances concur to hush our passions, and soothe 
 our cares ; to tempt our steps abroad, and prompt 
 our thoughts to serious reflection. 
 
 Then is the time 
 
 For those, whom wisdom and whom nature charm. 
 To steal themselves from the degenerate crowd. 
 And soar above this little scene of things ; 
 To tread low-thoughted vice beneath their feet ; 
 
198 PREFACE. 
 
 To soothe the throbbing passions into peace ; 
 And woo lone quiet in her silent walks.* 
 
 The favour I would solicit for the first of the 
 following compositions, is, that it may be per- 
 mitted to attend in such retired and contemplative 
 excursions ; to attend, if not under the character of 
 a friend, at least in the humble capacity of a ser- 
 vant or a page— as a servant , to open the door of 
 meditation, and remove every impediment to those 
 best exercises of the mind, which blend advantage 
 with amusement, and improve while they delight ; 
 as a page, to gather up the unstable, fluctuating 
 train of fancy, and collect her fickle powers into a 
 consistent, regular, and useful habit of thinking. 
 
 The other, conversant among the starry regions, 
 would lead the imagination through those beautiful 
 tracts of unclouded azure, and point out to the 
 judgment some of those astonishing particulars 
 which so eminently signalize the celestial worlds : 
 a prospect this, to which curiosity attracts our 
 eyes, and to which Scripture itself often directs 
 our study ; a prospect beyond all others most 
 excellently calculated to enlarge the soul, and en- 
 noble its conceptions ; to give the grandest appre- 
 
 * Thomson's Autumn, 1. 973. 
 
PREFACE. 199 
 
 hensions of the everlasting God, and create sen- 
 timents of becoming superiority with relation to 
 all transitory interest; in a word, to iuxnish. faith 
 with the surest foundation for a steady affiance 
 and true magnanimity of spirit, to afford p2>(y the 
 strongest motives, both for a lively gratitude and 
 profound veneration. 
 
 While GalilcEo lifts his tube, and discovers the 
 prodigious magnitude of those radiant orbs ; while 
 Newton measures their amazing distances, and 
 unites the whole system in harmonious order, by 
 the subtle influences of attraction; I would only, 
 like the herald before that illustrious Hebrew,* 
 proclaim at every turn, " Bow the knee, and adore 
 the Almighty Maker; magnify his eternal name, 
 and make his praise, like all his works, to he glo- 
 
 rious." 
 
 * Gen. xli. 43. 
 
Urawn by R.Weatall RA. 
 
 Engraved ty Cha? Heath. 
 
 HUH lE^mir ^ mi w.mn '^mrjKsjm m 
 
 HE PAINTS IN IIKH AHMS ; IIF. BOWS HIS HKAU , 
 
 HE SIT^fKS IN ]3]^ATTI . 
 
 (Joiitemplatioru; on the Nig*h.t. 
 
 mTBI.IiisnEJi MAKCH 20, 1818.BYE.EBWAKBS/J!^^^WGATF. STKEET. 
 
CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 THE NIGHT^ 
 
 The business of the day dispatched, and the sultry heats 
 abated, invited me to the recreation of a walk ; a walk in 
 one of the^we*^ 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 
 diflfusing 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 acknovi^ledgments in a tribute of harn,ony, 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 5 
 a victory which pours joy through the present age, and 
 
202 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 will transmit its influence to generations yet unborn.— 
 Are not all the blessings^ which can 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 aggra- 
 vated 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 1 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, in- 
 stead of walking with security and complacence in these 
 flowery paths, I might have met the assassin with his dag- 
 ger, or have been obliged to abandon my habitation, and 
 " embrace the rock for a shelter." Farewell then, ye 
 fragrant shades, seats 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 amuse* 
 ments of my rural hours ; I should no more have reared 
 the tender flower 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, in- 
 stead of being regaled with the music of the ivoods, I 
 might have been alarmed with the sound of the trumpet 
 
 * 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 
 CuUoden. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 203 
 
 and ail the thunder of war ; instead of being entertained 
 with tliis beautiful Imidscape, I might have beheld onr 
 houses ransacked, and our villages plundered ; I might 
 have beheld our fenced cities encompassed with armies, 
 and our fruitful fields ^'clothed with desolation j" 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 im- 
 partial scale, securing our goods ; persecution had bran- 
 dished 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 king- 
 dom, vf\\o very lately experienced them in all their rigour.* 
 And if the malignant spirit of popery had forced itself into 
 our church j if an abjured pretender had cut his way to 
 our throne ; we could have no reason to expect a mitiga- 
 tion of their severity on our behalf. But supposing the 
 tender mercies of a bigoted usurper to have been some- 
 what less cruel, where, alas ! would have been the encour- 
 agement to cultivate our little portion -, or what pleasure 
 Gould 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 tyrminy, like a ravenous harpy, should be always hover- 
 ing 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 
 
 * See a pamphlet intitled, Popery always the same ; which contains 
 a narrative of the persecutions and severe hardships lately suflfered 
 by the protest ants in the southern parts of France; and closes with 
 a most seasonable, alarming, and spirited address to the inhabitant* 
 of Great-Britain. Printed 1746. Price 8d. 
 
204 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 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 5 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 j but O ! how changed, how 
 gloomy I The carnation-streaks are faded, the golden 
 edgings are worn away, and all the lovely tinges are lost 
 in a leaden-coloured lowe?-ing- 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 undis- 
 tinguishable darkness, are exceedingly lengthened i* like 
 blessings, little prized while possessed, but highly esteemed 
 the very instant they are preparing for their flight j bitterly 
 regretted, when once they are gone, and to be seen no 
 more. 
 
 The radiant globe is now half-immersed beneath the 
 dusky earthy or, as the ancient poets speak, is shooting 
 into the ocean, and sinks in the western sea. And could 
 J^ view the sea at this juncture, it would yield a most' 
 amusing and curious spectacle. The rays, striking hori- 
 zontally on the liquid element, give it the appearance of 
 floating glass j or, reflected in many a difierent direction, 
 vform a beautiful multiplicity of colours. A stranger, as 
 
 » Major esque cadunt altis de montibus um^rce. — Virg. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 205 
 
 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 glistening with white, there glowing with 
 purple ', in one place wearing an azure tincture, in another 
 glancing a cast of undulating green ; in the whole ex- 
 hibiting a piece oi Jlukl scenery that may vie with yonder 
 pencil tapestries, though wrought in the loom, and tinged 
 with the dyes of heaven. 
 
 While I 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 tipped with streaming silver. The 
 tops of 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 I Like all the blessings which mortals enjoy below, 
 it is gone almost as soon as granted. See ! how languish* 
 iugly it trembles on the leafy spire, and glimmers with a 
 dying faintness on the mountain's brow. The little viva- 
 city that remains, decays every moment. It can no longer 
 hold its station. While I speak, it expires, and resigns the 
 world to the gradual approaches of night. 
 
 Now twilight gray 
 
 Has in her sober liv'ry all things clad.-f- 
 
 Every object, a little while ago, glared w^th light j but 
 now all appears under a more qualified lustre. The ani- 
 mals harmonize with the insensible creation; and what 
 
 * 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 Milton's Par. Lost, B. IV. 1. 598. 
 
206 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 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 3 but now the lively green is wrapped 
 in the descending glooms, and no tuneful airs are heard, 
 only the plaintive stock-dove 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 of things. And, in- 
 deed, 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 pro- 
 per for a person who walks on the borders of eternity, and 
 is hasting continually to his final audit 3 nothing more 
 proper than daily to slip away from the circle of amuse- 
 ments, and frequently to relinquish the hurry of business, 
 in order to consider and adjust '' the things that belong to 
 his peace." 
 
 Sinc;e 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 ? I see not the shining ruler, yet am cheered with a 
 real though faint communication of his splendour. 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 ? 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 207 
 
 No J 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 cir- 
 cumambient air, as to make it productive of this fine and 
 wonderful effect. The sun-beams, falling on the higher 
 parts of the aerial fluid, instead of passing on in straight 
 lines, are bent inwards and conducted to our sight. Their 
 natural course is over-ruled^ and they are bidden to wheel 
 about on purpose to favour us with a welcome and salutary 
 visit : by which means, the blessing of light and the season 
 of business are considerably prolonged ; and, what is a 
 very endearing circumstance, prolonged most considerably j 
 when the vehement heats of summer incline the student to 
 postpone his walk till the temperate evening prevails j 
 when the important labours of the harvest call the husband- 
 man abroad before the day is fully risen. 
 
 After all the ardours 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 to 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 
 evaporate in imperceptible exhalations. Turbulent winds, 
 or even the gentler motions of Auroras fan, would dissi- 
 pate the ■ rising vapours, 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. 
 
208 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 Not unlike to these are the advantages of solitude. The 
 world is a troubled ocean, and who can erect stable pur- 
 poses on its fluctuating waves ? The world is a school 
 of wrong 5 and who does not feel himself warping to its 
 pernicious influences?* On this sea of glass, how in- 
 sensibly we slide from our own steadfastness !f Some sacred 
 truth, which was struck in lively characters on our souls, 
 is obscured, if not obliterated j 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 aflfections. How often has an unwary glance 
 kindled a fever of irregular desire in our hearts ! How 
 often has a word of applause dropped luscious poison into 
 our ears j 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 3 silence holds the door against the 
 strife of tongues, and all the impertinences of idle con- 
 versation. 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 5 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 oppor- 
 tunity to rectify every evil impression 5 to expel the poison, 
 and guard against the contagion, of cormpting examples. 
 
 * Nunquam a turha mores, quos extuUy refero. AUquid, ex eo 
 qtiod composui, turhatur : aliquid, ex his qucB fugavi, redit. Inimica 
 est multorum conversatio. — Seneca. 
 
 f Rev. XV. 2. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 209 
 
 This is the place, whefe I may with advantage apply my- 
 self to subdue the rebel within ; and be master, not of a 
 sceptre, but of myself, llirong then, ye ambitious, the 
 levees of the powerful 3 I will be punctual in my assig- 
 nations with solitude. To a mind intent upon its own 
 improvement, solitude has charms incomparably more en- 
 gaging 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. Bnt 
 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 
 patrolling this same retreat, and joining with me in con- 
 templating the Creator's works j 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 monarch. 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 j but it is certain that God, the infinite eternal 
 God, is now and ever with me. The great Jehovah, 
 before whom all the angelic 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 3 and, in the most se- 
 
 * IMiLTON's Par. Lost, B. IV. 1. ^17. 
 
 p 
 
210 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 qnestered corner^ I appear before liis 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 ! TVhither 
 shall I go from thy spirit, er ivhither shall I fiee from thy 
 presence ? If I climb up into the heights of heaven, thou 
 art there enthroned in light : if I go doivn 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 morn- 
 ing first takes tving : if swifter than the darting ray, / 
 pass to the opposite regions of tlie west, and remain in 
 the uttermost parts of the sea .-^ shall I, in that distant 
 situation, be beyond thy reach ; or, by this sudden transi- 
 tion, escape thy notice ? So 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 every thought, and become 
 one with the very consciousness of my existence ! that 
 I may continually walk ivith God, and conduct myself, 
 in every step of my behaviour, '' as seeing him that is 
 invisible y 
 
 They are the happy persons j 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. 
 
 * Psal. cxxxix. 7, 8, 9. There is, I think, an additional strength 
 and beauty in the thought, if, with the learned Mr. Mudge^ we sup- 
 pose an antithesis between the two clauses of the last verse, as there 
 evidently is between those of the preceding ; and that they express, iu 
 a poetical style, the extremities of the east and the west* 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 211 
 
 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 ^11 the various acts of de- 
 votion, to their heavenly Father, ii^ho now sees in secret, 
 and vnll hereafter reward 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 un- 
 der the more immediate regards of their Maker. If they 
 resign the satisfactions of social intercourse, it is to culti- 
 vate a correspondence with the condescending Deity, and 
 taste the pleasures of divine friendship. What is such a 
 state, but the very suburbs of heaven ? "S^Tiat is such a 
 conduct, but an antepast of eternal blessedness ? 
 
 Now, my soul, the day is ended. The hours are 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 j 
 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 unper- 
 ceived 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 tedious- 
 
 * Sedfugit interea,fiigit irreparabile tempits. — Virg. 
 
 p2 
 
212 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 ^less 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 2^ost, which, carry- 
 ing despatches 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 prey * 
 
 Now the day is gone, how short it appears ! When 
 my fond eye beheld it in jjerspectivey 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 moun- 
 tains dwindle to a spot, when the sailor, surrounded by 
 skies and ocean, throws his last look on his native land. 
 How clearly do I 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 oi finite existence, is mere illusion. 
 
 Perhaps the healthy and the gay may not readily credit 
 
 * Job, ix. 25, 26. By these three very expressive images, the in- 
 spired poet represents the mitntermitted and rapid flight of time. 
 The passage is illustrated with great judgment, and equal delicacy, 
 in Dr. G?"e«/'5 most ingenious abridgment of Schiiltens :• — Qtice tribus 
 in elementis velocissima, hie admirahili cum emphasi congeruntur. In 
 terris, nil pernicius cwsore, et quldem IcEti quid ferente. Rapidius 
 tamen adhuc undas, non secant, sed supervolant, navigiola papyro 
 conteMa. Omnium rapidissime a'erem grandibm alts permetitur aquila, 
 yrcecipiti lapsu mens in prcsdam. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 213. 
 
 the serious truth -, especially from a young pen^, and new 
 to its employ. Let lis then refer ourselves to the decision 
 of the ancient. Ask some venerable old person^ who is 
 just marching off the mortal stage, Hoiv many have been, 
 the days of the years of thy life ?* 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 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 icork to be done, 
 while this shuttle is flying through the loom 3 f a work 
 of no small difficulty, yet of the utmost consequence ! 
 Hast thou not seen, hast thou not known, the excellent 
 of the earth 5 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 meek- 
 ness of wisdom, and purity of affection j in all the tender 
 ofl&ces of love, and all the nobler efforts of zeal. To be 
 
 * Gen. xlvii. 8. — Heb. Bib. 
 
 f My days are swi/ter than a weavers shuttle, — Job, vii. 6. 
 
214 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 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 re- 
 missness ? 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 3 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 
 shall be no longer.'^ Then, abused opportunities will never 
 
 * This alludes to the beginning of Revelations the xth ; which, 
 abstracted from its spiritual meaning, and considered only as a stately 
 piece of machinery^ well deserves our attention ; and, 1 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 beau- 
 tiful in the atmosphere, all that is striking or magnificent in every 
 element, is taken to heighten the idea. Yet nothing is dispropor- 
 tionate, but an uniform air of ineffable majesty greatens, exalts, 
 ennobles the whole. 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 " com- 
 passeth the heaven with a glorious circle," is the ornament 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 his 
 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 
 tlie 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 hy Him that livethfor ever and ever. In what- 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 215 
 
 return j and new opportunities will never more be offered. 
 Then, should negligent mortals wish — wish ever so pas- 
 sionately — 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 space of what is ever on 
 the wing? Shall I squander away what is unutterably 
 important, while it lasts j 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. 
 Tliey go connected, indissolubly connected, with heaven 
 or hell.-* Improvedy they are a sure pledge of everlasting 
 
 ever 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 im'iolable oath ; we are not only 
 rapt in silent suspense, but ovei'whelmed with the profoundest awe. 
 He swears, that time shall he 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 OA-er 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 : 
 
 Ah hoc momenta pendet ceternitas. 
 
 The w'eighty sense of which, I know not how to express in English, 
 more happily than in those w ords of Dr. Watts : 
 
 Good God ! on what a slender thread 
 
 [Or, on what a ynoment of time] 
 Hang everlasting things ! 
 
216 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 glory ; wasted, they are a sad preface to never-ending 
 confusion and anguish. 
 
 What a 'profound silence has composed the world ! So 
 profound is the silence, that my very breath seems a noise ; 
 the ticking of my watch is distinctly heard j 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 sounds but 
 the liquid lapse of a distant murmuring stream. 
 
 All things are Imsh'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 j how 
 should I bear so unexpected a shock ? It would stun my 
 senses, and confound my thoughts ; I should shudder in 
 every limb j perhaps, sink to the earth with terror. Con- 
 sider^ then, O mortals ! consider the much more prodigious 
 and amazing call, which will, ere long, alarm your sleep- 
 ins: bones. When the tenants of the tomb have slumbered, 
 in the most undisturbed repose, for a multitude of ages j 
 what an inconceivable consternation must the shout of the 
 archangel, and the trump of God, occasion ! Will it not 
 wound the ear of the ungodly j and affright, even to dis- 
 traction, the impenitent sinner ? The stupendous peal 
 will sound through the vast of heaven 3 will shake the 
 foundations of nature ; and pierce even the deepest re- 
 cesses of the grave. And how — O ! how will the pri- 
 soners 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 3 attend, 
 in this thy day, to the gracious invitations of thy Saviour. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 217 
 
 Then shall that great midnight ciy clo^e its horror, and be 
 music in thy ears : it shall be welcome to thv revivins clav, 
 as the tidings of liberty to the dungeon captive 5 as the 
 year of jubilee to the harassed slave. This, this shall be 
 its charming import j Awake, and sing, ye that dwell in 
 dust* 
 
 What a general cessation of affairs has this dusky honr 
 introduced 1 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 3 all the country was sweat and dust ; the air 
 floated in perpetual agitation, by the flitting birds, and 
 humming bees 3 art sat prying with her piercing eyes j 
 while industry plied her restless hands. But 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 village swain lies drowned in 
 slumbers -, and even his trusty dog, who for a considerable 
 time stood 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 j all em- 
 ployment is sunk away 3 sunk away with those fluttering 
 myriads, which lately sported in the sun's departing rays. 
 'Tis like the sabbath of universal nature 5 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 
 
 * Isa. xx^i. 19. 
 
218 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 living alone;, are possessed of this inestimable oppor- 
 tunity.* '' There is no work or device, no repentance 
 or amendment, in the gravest whither we are all hasting." 
 "UTieii once that closing scene is advanced, we shall have 
 no other part to act on this earthly theatre. Then, the 
 sluggard, who has slumbered aAvay life in a criminal in- 
 activity, 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 3 and he that is Jilthy, let 
 him be filthy for ever." 
 
 Is it so, my soul ? Is this the only, only time allotted 
 for obtaining the great reward, and m-aking thy salvation 
 sure ? And art thou lulled in a vain security, or dreaming 
 in a supine inadvertency 9 Start, O ! start from thy 
 trance ; gird up the loins of thy mind, and work while 
 it is day 5 improve the present seed-time, that eternity 
 may yield a joyful harvest. We especially, who are watch- 
 
 * 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. 
 
 f They who are gone down to the grave, are represented (Isa. 
 xxxviii. 11.) by the phrase, »2ii^v ^m — rendered by Fitringa, 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 dis- 
 tinct from the preceding, Init 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 ; " / 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 stroke, / shall, by 
 its taking place, he 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 of making my own final salvation 
 sure." A sentiment like this is grand, important, and full of benevo- 
 lence ; removes all suspicion of unbecoming pusillanimity, and does 
 the highest honour to the monarch's character. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 219 
 
 men in Israel^ and ministers of the glorious Gospel ; may 
 tve 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 mvisible state j all our friends 
 are making incessant approaches to their long home ; and 
 we ourselves shall very shortly be transmitted to the con- 
 finement 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 therefore, let us pour in our wholesome 
 instructions ; instantly, let us ply them with our earnest 
 exhortations. A moment's delay may be an irreparable 
 loss 5 may be irretrievable ruin. W\\\\q we procrastinate, 
 a fatal stroke may intervene, and place zis beyond the 
 power of administering ; or place them beyond all possi- 
 bility 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 3 nor does tlie 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 tranquiliity 
 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 5 and not one breath curls oer 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 
 
 * 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 ivas gone. So, while we are either remiss in our func- 
 tions, 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. 
 
220 contemplATtions 
 
 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 impetuosity^ into the yawning gulph3 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 horrid 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 tov^ cr totters on its basis. 
 
 Such variations are kindly contrived, and with an evident 
 condescension to the fickleness of our taste 3 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 as well as entertaining-. ■ Pro- 
 vidence, ever gracious to mortals, ever intent upon pro- 
 moting our felicity, has taken care to mingle in the con- 
 stitution of things what is pleasing to our imagination, 
 with what is serviceable to our interests. The piercing 
 winds and rugged aspect of winter, render the balmy 
 gales and flowery 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 Decem- 
 ber 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 refresh- 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 221 
 
 ment, would be a source of diseases j 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 dispen- 
 sations, produces an uniformity of good j produces a per- 
 petual 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 splendours of day to all the horrors of midnight, 
 would be inconvenient and frightful 3 it would be\dlder 
 the traveller in his journey, it would strike the creation 
 with amazement, and, perhaps, be pernicious to the organs 
 of sight. Therefore the gloom rushes not upon us in- 
 stantaneously, but increases by slow degrees 3 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 tlie grand 
 vicissitudes of the seasons, but also the common interchanges 
 
 * Considering the immense quantity of coals, and other com- 
 bustible 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 tmdulatory, as to 
 transmit, wth all imaginable distinctness, every diversity of sound ; 
 so perfectly pure, as to be the constant refiner of the fluids, in every 
 animal that breathes. 
 
222 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 of liglit 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 mon- 
 sters, 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 over- 
 taken 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, pro- 
 pitious 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 foot- 
 steps, 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 make choice of 
 this season, to perpetrate the most outrageous acts of 
 wrong and robbery,* The adulterer waiteth for the twi- 
 light ; and, baser 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 plants her accursed plots, and prepares 
 the train to blow a nation into ruin. Now, crimes which 
 hide their odious heads in the day, haunt the seats of 
 society, and stalk through the gloom with audacious front. 
 Now, the vermin of the steivs crawl from their lurking 
 holes, to wallow in sin, and spread contagion through 
 the night j each soothing himself, with the fond notion, 
 that all is safe ; that no eye sees. 
 
 * When Night 
 
 Darkens the streets, tlien wander forth the sons 
 
 Oi Belial J flown with insolence and wine. — Mii.ton. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 223 
 
 Are they then concealed ? Preposterous madmen ! To 
 draw the curtahi between their infamous practices and 
 a little set of mortals, but lay them open to all these 
 chaste and umheful 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. 
 Was 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 dayf 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?"]: In that very 
 gloom, to which you fly for covert, he erects his throne. 
 What you reckon your screen is the bar of his tribunal. 
 O ! remember this ! Stand in awe, and sin not. Re- 
 member, that the great and terrible God is about your 
 path,\ when you take your midnight range j is about your 
 bed, when you indulge the loose desire j 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 foot struck the ground, and fetched fire from 
 a flint. My eye, though at a distance, catched the view^ 
 
 * Sed Luna videt, sed sidera testes 
 
 Intendunt ociilos. 
 
 f This is finely and very forcibly expressed by the Psalmist : If 
 I say, peradveiiture the darkness shall cover me; then shall my night 
 he turned to day. Or, as it may be rendered somewhat more em- 
 phatically, even the night shall be broad dayliglit all around me. 
 Psal. cxxxix. 10. 
 
 X Psal. xcvii. 2. 
 
 § The original words are much stronger than the translation, 
 n'll and nnJ3Dn signify, "Thou siftest my path, and art intimately 
 acquainted with all my ways." The former, I a])prehend, denoting 
 the exact cognisance which the Almighty taketh ; the latter implying 
 the constant inspection which he excrciseth over all the circum- 
 stances of our conduct. — PsaL cxxxix. 2. 
 
224 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 and saw, with great clearness, the transient sparkles ^ of 
 which, had I been ever so near, I should not have dis- 
 cerned the least glimpse under the blaze of day. So,"* 
 when sickness has drawn a veil over the gaiety of our 
 hearts j when misfortunes have eclipsed the splendour 
 of our outward circumstances 3 how many important con- 
 victions 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 vmrld, that delusive cheat, con- 
 fesses 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 y 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 ; w elcome disappointment ; welcome what- 
 ever our froward flesh or peevish passion would miscall 
 calamities. These light aflictions, which are hut for a 
 moment, shall sit easy upon our spirits ; since they be- 
 friend our knowledge, promote our faith, and so work out 
 for us afar more ecvceeding and eternal weight of glory. ^ 
 
 * I beg leave to inform the young gentleman, wlio.se name dignifies 
 my dedication, that this was a remark of his honoured father, when 
 we rode together, and conversed in a dusky evening. I mention tlxis 
 circumstance, partly to secure the paragraph from contempt, partly 
 to give liim and the world an idea of that eminently serious taste 
 wliich distinguished my deceased friend. The less obvious the re- 
 flection, tlie 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 ad- 
 mirable was the fertility of imagination, which could deduce the 
 sublimest truths from the most trivial occurrences. 
 
 t 2 Cor. iv. 17. The great Stephens, that oracle of Grecian learn- 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 225 
 
 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 liue is dropped from the lily. I cast my eyes 
 toward a magnificent seat, but the aspiring columns and 
 fair-expanded front are mingled in rude confusion. With- 
 out the sun, all the elegance of the blooming world is 
 a mere blank, all the symmetry of architecture is a shape- 
 less 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 and his merits, I should 
 roam like some disconsolate spectre, even through the 
 smiles of creation and the caresses of fortune. My con- 
 versation in this Avorld, though dressed in the most en- 
 gaging forms of external pleasure, would be like the pass- 
 age 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 recoil- 
 ing, translates x«0' \>nsp^oKr,y, quo nihil majiis diet aut fingi potest. But 
 how does the sense rise, how is the idea enlarged, under two such 
 forcible expressions'.- >«a9' uTrEpgoArjv ziqxntsp^^'Kr,^, The whole verse is 
 a master-piece of the beautiful antithesis, the lively description, and 
 the nen-ous 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 delicacy. Per- 
 haps the following version may be somewhat less injurious to the 
 sacred original, than the common translation : Our very light afflic- 
 tion, ivhich is hut just for the present moment, tcorketh out a far 
 more exceeding ^ and incomparabli/ great and eternal weight of glory. 
 
 
 
226 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 ciled through this divine expiation ; this is the ray, the 
 golden ray, which irradiates the face of the universe. 
 This is the oil of beauty, which makes all things wear a 
 cheerful aspect j and the oil oi 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. 
 
 '' Man goeth forth to his work, and to his labour, till 
 the evening." But then 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 dust/ ones 
 rest from the fatigues of application. Most reviving cor- 
 dial ! equally beneficial to our animal and intellectual 
 powers. It supplies the 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 ardour for the studies of the dawn., With- 
 
 * Thus applied, that fine piece oi flattery , addressed to the heathen 
 emperor, is strictly and literally true. 
 
 ■ f^ultus ubi tuus 
 
 uiffulsit populo, gratior it dies, 
 Et soles melius nitent. — Hor. 
 
 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. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 227 
 
 out these enlivening recruits, how soon would the most 
 robust constitution be wasted into a ivalklng skeleton, and 
 the most learned sage degenerate into a hoary idiot ! Some 
 time ago I beheld with surprise poor Florio. His air 
 was wild, his countenance meager, 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 complain- 
 ing, with that illustrious sufferer of old, JVear'isome 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 ^j«m, most passionately 
 long to make some little truce with their agonies in peace- 
 ful 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 cannot procure, which multitudes sigh 
 for in vain, thy God has bestowed on thee, times out of 
 number. The ivelcome 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. 
 
 Since sleep is so absolutely necessary, so inestimably 
 valuable, observe what a Jine 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 darhness, which inclines us to 
 
 * Job, vii. 3. 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 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 things, 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 circum- 
 stances, and gently-working opiates, he giveth to his be- 
 loved 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 con- 
 cern 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 rob- 
 bers : perils, from the irregular workings of our own 
 thoughts, f and especially from the incursions of our spi- 
 ritual enemy. 
 
 * Psal. cxxvii. 2. 
 
 •f- 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 stupefied by 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 ex- 
 perienced 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 tee have laid us down, and slept in peace, it was because the Lord 
 vouchsafed us the sweet refreshment ; if we rose again in safety, it 
 was because the Lord sustained us with his unremitted protection. 
 
ON THE NIGHT, 229 
 
 What dreadful mischief might that restless, that im- 
 placable adversary of mankind work^ was there rot an 
 invisible hand to control his rage, and protect poor mor- 
 tals ! AMiat scenes of horror might he represent to our 
 imaginations, and ^' scare us with dreams, or terrify us 
 with visions !"* But 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. "f 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 house, to watch over oar sleeping minutes, and to 
 stop all the avenues of ill. O ! the unwearied and con- 
 descending goodness of our Creator, who lulls us to our 
 restj by bringing on the silent shades 5 and plants his own 
 
 Will the candid reader excuse me, if I add a short stoiy, or rather 
 a matter of fact^ suitable to the preceding remark ? Two persons, 
 who had been hunting together in the day, slept together the follow- 
 ing 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 ardour, 
 ril kill him, ril kill him ; and immediately feels for the knife, which 
 he carried in his pocket. His companion happening to awake, and 
 obser^'ing what passed, leaped from the bed. Being secure from 
 danger, and the moon shining into the room, he stood 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 of his friend lay. Tliis 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. 
 
 * "Wliat 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 Liike, iv. 5. Joh^ vii. 14. 
 t Cant, iii.7, 8. 
 
230 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 ever-watcliful eye as our sentinel, while we enjoy the 
 needful repose. 
 
 Reason now resigns her sedate office, and fancy, ex- 
 travagant 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 sunid&t fairy ^e ids, and gathering garlands 
 of visionary bliss, while their bodies are stretched on 
 a wisp of straw, and sheltered by the cobwebs of a barn. 
 Others, quite insensible of their rooms of state, are mourn- 
 ing in a doleful dungeon, or struggling with the raging 
 billows. Perhaps, with hasty steps, they ciiinb the craggy 
 cliit, and with real anxiety fly from the imaginary danger. 
 Or else, benumbed with sudden fear, and finding them- 
 selves unable to escape, they give up at once their hopes 
 and their efforts ; and, though reclined on a couch of 
 ivory, are sinking, ail 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 v»^ho dream, even in their ivahing 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 silk-worm has be- 
 queathed her finest threads to cover their nakedness. 
 Others congratulate their own signal happiness, because 
 loads of golden lumber are amassed together in their 
 coffers J 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 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 231 
 
 in his reveries ; who, while snoring under a hedge, exults 
 in the possession of his stately palace and sumptuous furni- 
 ture ? If persons, who are veri/ vassals to their own domi- 
 neer'mg passions, and led captive by numberless tempta- 
 tions J if these persons pique themselves with a conceit of 
 their liberty, and fancy themselves the generous and gallant 
 spirits of the age -, 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 blandish- 
 ments of sense, or in any thing short of the divine favour, 
 and a well-grounded hope of the incorruptible inheritance 3 * 
 -what are they, but dreamers with their eyes open ; delirious, 
 though in health ? 
 
 Would you see their picture drawn to the \try life_, and 
 the success of their schemes calculated with the utmost 
 exactness, cast your eyes upon that fine representation ex- 
 hibited by the prophet : It shall be even as ivhen a hungry 
 man dreameth, and behold, he eateth ,• but he awaheth, and 
 his soul is empty : or, as when a thirsty man dreameth, and 
 behold, he drhiheth ; but he awaketh, and behold, he is faint, 
 and his soul hath appetite. \ 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 vanity, and die in wo. Awaken us, 
 merciful Lord, 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 en- 
 lightened, to discern the things that are excellent 3" and no 
 longer be imposed upon by fantastic appearances, which, 
 however potnpous they may seem, will prove more empty 
 
 * These give a sacred and home-felt delight, 
 
 A sober certainty oi waking bliss, — Milt. Comus. 
 f Isa. xxix. 8. 
 
232 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 than the visions of the nighty more transient than the dream 
 that is forgotten. 
 
 Having mentioned sleep and dreams, let me once again 
 consider those remarkable incidents of onr frame : so very 
 remarkable, that I may venture to call them a kind of ex- 
 perimental 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 nnstrung, 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 rayj at 
 least, distinguish not objects : his ears, with the organs 
 unimpaired, and articulate accents beating upon the drum, 
 perceive not the sound j at least, apprehend not the mean- 
 ing : the senses, and their exquisitely fine feelings, are 
 overwhelmed with an unaccountable stupefaction. You 
 call him a social creature j but where are his social affec- 
 tions } He knows not the father that begat him -, and takes 
 no notice of the friend that is as his own soul. The wife 
 of his bosom may expire by his side, and he lie no more 
 concerned than a barbarian. The children of his body may 
 be tortured with the severest pangs, and he, even in the 
 same chamber, remain untouched with the least commise- 
 ration. Behold the most ingenious scholar, whose judgment 
 is piercing, and able to trace the most intricate difficulties 
 of science 3 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 
 reas<»nings, 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 his imagination. The whole night passes, and 
 
ON THE XIGIIT, 233 
 
 he frequently mistakes it for a single minute ; is not sen- 
 sible 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 himseU 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 shiv degrees, but in the tichikUng 
 of an eye recovers from its perturbation. ^X\iy does not 
 the stupor which deadens all the nice operations of the ani- 
 mal powers, hold fast its possession ? WTien 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 vigour and agility ? From extrava- 
 gances bordering upon madness, how is the understanding 
 instantaneously re-established in sedateness and harmonv ? 
 Surely '' this is the Lord's doing, and it should be marvel- 
 lous in our eyes 3" should awaken our gratitude, and in- 
 spirit 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 me- 
 lancholy spectres visit the ruins of ancient monasteries, and 
 
 * Vox quoque per lucos vulgo exaudita silentes 
 Ingens, et simulacra modis pallentia miris 
 Visa sub obscurum noctis. — Virg. 
 
234 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 frequent the solitary dwellings of the dead. They pass and 
 repass, in unsubstantial images, along the forsaken galle- 
 ries ; 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 yeivs 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 for- 
 tune, if no frightful sound purred at his heels, if no ghastly 
 shape bolted upon his sight. 
 
 'Tis strange to observe the excessive timidity which pos- 
 sesses 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. ne- 
 vertheless 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 Eter- 
 nal 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 io Brutus, "Til meet thee there ;"* I believe the 
 boldest heart would feel something like a panic, would se- 
 riously think upon the adventure, and be in pain for the 
 event. But when a voice from heaven cries, in the awaken- 
 ing language of the prophet, " Prepare to meet thy God, 
 O Israel!"! how little is the warning regarded! How 
 
 * 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. 
 
 f Amos, iv. 12. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 235 
 
 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, ivhom 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 favourite 
 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 dismay, 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 hea- 
 vens cleave asunder, and the earth flee 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 oc- 
 currence, recorded in the Book of Job ,-* which is^ 
 I think, no inconsiderable proof of the real Ccvistence of 
 apparitions, f on some very extraordinary emergencies ^ 
 
 * Job, iv. 12, 14, &c. 
 
 -f- 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 dreamSy 
 though noi'^n somnia, would have suited the verse (if the book 
 be in metre) altogether as well as nUVtrr visiones. It could not, 
 surely, be a wind, as some translate the word nn ', because the 
 circumstance of standing still is not so compatible with the nature 
 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 them- 
 selves to Abraham resting at the door of his tent, and to Lot sitting 
 
236 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 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 consequence ; but, 
 to convey intelUgences 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 unex- 
 pected 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 prei)are his mind 
 for some momentous message. After which, a voice was 
 
 in the gate of Sodom; or else the spirit of some departed saint, as 
 in the case of SamueVs apparition, or the famous appearance of l\Ioses 
 and Elijah on the mount of transfiguration ; a spitit assumuig some 
 vehicle in order to become visible to the human eye : which, ac- 
 cordingly, 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 ivhom it resembled. 
 
 * I have given this solemn picture a modern dress, rather for the 
 sake of variety and illustration, than from any apprehension of im- 
 proving the admirable original. Such 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 Shakspeare 
 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. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 237 
 
 heard : a voice, for the importance of its meaning, worthy 
 to be had in everlasting remembrance ; for the solemnity 
 of its delivery, enough to alarm a heart of stone. It 
 spoke -J and this was tlie 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 P"^ Behold, and consider it attentively. He 
 jmt no such trust in his most exalted servants, as should 
 bespeak them incapable of defect ; and his very angels he 
 charged tcith folly ; as sinking, even in the highest per- 
 fection of their holiness, infinitely beneath his transcendent 
 glories ; as falling, CA'cn in all the fidelity of their obe- 
 dience, inexpressibly short of the homage due to his ador- 
 able majesty. If angelic natures must not presume to 
 justify, either themselves, or their services, before un- 
 created purity 3 how much more absurd is such a notion, 
 hov/ much more impious such an attempt, in them that 
 divell 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 righteous- 
 ness of the incarnate God. To inculcate this lesson, the 
 Son of the Blessed came down from heaven -, and pressed 
 no other principle with so repeated f an importunity on 
 his hearers. To instil the same doctrine, the Holy Ghost 
 
 * There seems to be a significant and beautiful gradation in the 
 Hebrew words u^iJ^ and -j^J, which I have endeavoured to preserve 
 by a sort of paraphrastic version. The reader will obsene a new 
 tura given to the sentiment ; preferable, I think, to that which our 
 £;2^/«^/% translation exhibits : not, S/iall man be more just than God? 
 but, Shall man be just before, or in the sight of God ? The passage, 
 thus rendered, speaks a tnith incomparably more weighty, and 
 needful to be inculcated ; a truth, exactly parallel to that humbling 
 confession of the prophet, //e are all as an unclean thing ; and to 
 that solemn declaration of the psalmist. In thy sight shall no man 
 living be justified. 
 
 t It is well worthy of our obsen'atioD, says an excellent commeH- 
 
238 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 touched the lips of the apostles with sacred eloquence j 
 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 woes.^ She flies the 
 vocal grove, and shuns the society of all the feathered 
 choir. The blooming gardens and flowery meads have 
 no charms for her. Obscene shades, ragged ruins, and 
 walls overgrown with ivy, are her favourite haunts. Above, 
 the mouldering precipice nods, and threatens a fall j 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 
 
 tator, ** that no one sentence uttered by our Lord, is so frequently 
 repeated as this; Whosoever shall exalt himself, shall he 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. 
 
 * Solaque culminibus ferali carmine bubo 
 Scepe querij longasque in Return 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 lan£ftiage is music — Virgil. 
 
ON THE XIGHT. 239 
 
 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 har- 
 monious adorations of heaven \ How could the lips can- 
 kered with slander y relish the raptures of everlasting praise ? 
 Where would be the satisfaction of the vam beauty, or 
 the supercilious grandee j 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 
 fash confusion on the lascivious eye. The envious mind 
 must 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. 
 In short, the unsanctified soul, amidst holy and triumphant 
 spirits, 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.* 
 
 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 
 
 * I would beg of the reader to obsen-e, with wliat emphasis and 
 propriety our Lord touches this important point, in his memorable 
 reply to Nicodemiis: Verily, verily, I say unto thee. Except a man 
 he 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. 
 
240 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 solicitude. Trivial as it is^ it would damp their 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 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 thus the 
 tidings ran : '' Mortals, the destroyer of your race is on 
 his way. The last enemy has 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 bloiv at each of your 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 andj»oor 
 
 * Et consanguineus kthi sopor. — Virg. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 241 
 
 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 j of 
 others, that have just dropped their clay amidst weeping 
 friends, and are gone to appear before the judge of all 
 the earth. There's not a news-paper 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 5 
 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 3 and the voice oifame 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 decora- 
 tions of our public buildings, and the most elegant fur- 
 niture of our parlours, but the imagery of death, and 
 trophies of the tomb ? That marble bust 3 and those 
 gilded pictures 3 how solemnly they recognize the fate of 
 others, and speakingly remind us of our own ! I see, I 
 hear, and O ! I feel, this great truth. It is interwoven 
 with my constitution. The frequent decays of the struc- 
 ture foretel its final ruin. WTiat are all the pains that 
 have been darted through my limbs 3 what every disease 
 that has assaulted my health 3 but the advanced guards 
 of the foe ? What are the languors and w eariness that 
 attend the labours of each revolving day 3 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 oracles^ awaken our attention, and engage our cir- 
 
 R 
 
242 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 cumspection ? 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 
 untivhied, and thy affections disentangled from this enchant- 
 ing world 3 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 ardour. The tone is so dold, and strikes 
 with such energy, you would imagine the sprightly sere- 
 nader in the very next thicket. Anon, the strain lan- 
 guishes, and the mournful warbler melts into tenderness. 
 The melancholy notes just steal upon the shades, and 
 faintly touch your ear 3 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 ! This coy and modest minstrel entertains 
 
 * Milton's Par. Lost, B. III. 1. 38. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 243 
 
 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 re- 
 ligion, and the joy of reconciliation with God ; the satis- 
 factions arising from an established interest in Christ, and 
 from the prospect of a blissful immortality -, these are all 
 lost to the mind that is ever in the crowdj and dares not^ 
 or delights not, to retire into itself. Are we charmed 
 with the nightingale's song ? Do we wish to have it 
 nearer, and hear it oftener ? Let us seek a renewed 
 heart, and a resigned will 3 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 jil^asing than sweet Philomela s sweetest strains. 
 As different as the voices of these birds^ are the cir- 
 cumstances 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 sense- 
 less and wanton prodigality. Not content with allowing 
 a few spare minutes for the purpose of necessary recre- 
 ation, they lavish many hours, devote luhole 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 j 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 tenter- 
 hooks of anxious suspense, and agitated by the fiercest 
 extremes of hope and fear ; while the dice are rattling, 
 his heart is throbbing 5 his fortune is tottering j and, 
 possibly at the ver^^ next throw, the one sinks in the gulf 
 of ruin, the other is hurried into the rage of distraction. 
 
 * Alluding to a verj' painful punishment, inflicted on delinquents 
 among the soldiery. 
 
 r2 
 
244 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 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 
 Avorld in an unprepared condition, or else (sad alterna- 
 tive !) to think over all the follies of a heedless life, 
 and all the bitterness of approaching death. The disease 
 rages j it baffles the force of medicine, and urges the re- 
 luctant 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 con- 
 summates 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 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. 
 
 * 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, hehold ! 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 loas a undow, 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 feel his heart penetrated with a tender 
 
 commiseration ? — Luke, vii. 12. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 245 
 
 Quite weary of the world, with a restless impatience they 
 sigh for dissolution : some, pining away under the te- 
 dious decays of an incurable consumption j or gasping for 
 breath, and almost suffocated by an inundation of dropsical 
 waters. On some, a relentless cancer has fastened its en- 
 vemoned 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 j 
 how the sweat bedews their flesh 3 and their eye-balls 
 wildly roll ! Methinks, the night condoles with these her 
 distressed children, and sheds dewy tears over their sorrow- 
 ful abodes. But, of all mortals, they are the most exqui- 
 sitely miserable who groan beneath the pressure of a melau' 
 choly mind, or smart under the lashes of a resentful con- 
 science. Though robed in 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 tvoes ! It might teach 
 them to be less enamoured with the few languid sweets that 
 are thinly scattered through this vale of tears, and envi- 
 roned with such a multitude of ragged thorns -, it might 
 teach them no longer to dance away their years with a giddy 
 ratnbling 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 in- 
 stances 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 hap- 
 piness ; those, I mean, who are launching out into the 
 depths of ej^travagance, and running excessive lengths of 
 
246 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 riot ; who are prostituting their reputation^ and sacrificing 
 their peace, to the gratification of their hists ; sapping the 
 foundation of their health in debaucheries j or shipwreck- 
 ing 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 sensa- 
 tions of an hour. Ye slaves of appetite, how far am I from 
 envying your gross sensualities and voluptuous revels ! 
 Little, ah ! little are you sensible, that while indulgence 
 showers her roses, and luxury diffuses her odours, they 
 scatter poisons also, and shed unheeded bane,* evils, in- 
 comparably more malignant than the wormwood and gall of 
 the sharpest affliction. Since death is in the drunkard's 
 cup, and worse than poniards in the harlot's embrace ; may 
 it ever be the privilege of the man whom I love, to go 
 without his share of these pestilent siveets. f 
 
 Abundance of living sparks glitter in the lanes, and 
 twinkle under the hedges. I suppose, they are the gloiv- 
 tvorms, 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 per- 
 ceivable, 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 <di 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 3 how certainly 
 
 * Yes, in the flowers that wreathe the sparkling bowl. 
 Fell adders hiss, and poisonous serpents roll. 
 
 •f- Quam suave est suavitatihus istis carere ! was ^t.Augustin's pious 
 exclamation ; the substance of which Mr. Pope has expressed, with 
 more simplicity, and with no less dignity : 
 
 Count all the advantage prosperous vice attains, 
 'Tis but what virtue flies from, and disdains. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 247 
 
 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 rca- 
 son, 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 disas- 
 trous. To speak in the delicate language of a sacred 
 writer, '' they sow the wind^ and will reap the whirl- 
 wind." * 
 
 To speak more plainly 3 the pleasures of the world, which 
 we are all so prone to dote upon j and the powers of fallen 
 reason, which some are so apt to idolize, -[ are not only 
 vain, but treacherous j not only a painted flame, like these 
 
 * Hos. viii. 7. 
 
 f I hope it will be observed, that I am far from decrying that noble 
 faculty of reason, when exerted 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 j 
 when, all-arrogant and self-sufficient, she says to the word of Scrip- 
 ture, / 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 calcu- 
 lated to inflame a wanton fancy ; or, if conducted with so much mo- 
 desty 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, in- 
 troduce a disgust of genuine history, and indispose their admirers to 
 acquiesce in the decent civilities, or to relish the sober satisfactions of 
 common life. 
 
248 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 sparkling animals^ but much like those unctuous exhala- 
 tions, 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 -oflfer 
 their service ; but, blazing with delusive light , mislead their 
 follower into hidden pits, headlong precipices, and un- 
 fathomable gulfs J where, far from his beloved friends, far 
 from all hopes of succour^ the unhappy wanderer is swal- 
 lowed up and lost. 
 
 Not long ago, we observed a very surprising appearance 
 in the western sky j a prodigious star took its flaming route 
 through those coasts, and trailed, as it passed, a tremen- 
 dous length of firC;, almost over half the heavens. Some, I 
 imagine, viewed the portentous stranger with much the 
 same anxious amazement as Bels/mszar beheld the hand- 
 writing upon the wall. Some looked upon it as a bloody 
 /lag, * hung out by divine resentment over a guilty world. 
 Some read, in its glaring visage, the fate of nations, and 
 the fall of kingdoms, f To others, it shook, or seemed to 
 shake, pestilence and tear from its horrid hair. 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 vapoury train. Nothing 
 can be more precarious and unjustifiable, than to draw such 
 conclusions from such events 3 since they neither are pre- 
 ternatural effects, nor do they throw the frame of things 
 into any disorder. I would rather adore that Omnipotent 
 Being, w4io rolled those stupendous orbs from his creating 
 hand, and leads them, by his providential eye, through un- 
 measurable tracts of 2ether j who bids them now approach 
 the sun, and glow with unsufFerable ardours j J now retreat 
 
 * — Liquida si quando node cometcB 
 Sanguinei lugubre ruhent. — Virg. 
 
 •\- Crinemque timendi 
 
 StderiSy et terris miitantem regua cometem. — Lucan.' 
 X The comet in the year 1680, according to Sir Isanc Newton*s 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 249 
 
 to tlie 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, desolating plagues. 
 Would to God there were no other more formidable indica- 
 tions of approaching jndgementy or impending ruin ! But, 
 alas ! when vice becomes predominant, and irreligion almost 
 epidemical ; when the sabbaths of a jealous God are no- 
 toriously profaned ; and that '^ name, which is great, won- 
 derful, and holy," is prostituted to the meanest, or abused 
 to the most execrable purposes j when the worship of our 
 great Creator and Preserver is banished from many of the 
 most conspiciioics families, and it is deemed a piece of rude 
 impertinence so much as to mention the gracious Redeemer 
 in our genteel interviews ; when it passes for an elegant 
 freedom of behaviour to ridicule the mysteries of Christi- 
 anity, and a species of rehned conversation to taint the air 
 with lascivious hints ; when those, who sit in the scorners 
 chair, sin with a high hand 5 and many of those, v,ho wear 
 the professor s garb, are destitute of the power, and content 
 themselves with the mere form of godliness ; 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 ?" * 
 
 computation, was, in its nearest approach, above a hundred and sixty- 
 six times nearer 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 be- 
 come cool in fifty thousand years." Derh. Astr. Theol. p. 237. 
 
 * Isa. xiv. 23. The Eternal Sovereign, speaking of Babtjlon, de- 
 nounces this threatening, / ivill sweep it with the besom of destruction. 
 What a noble but dreadful image is here ! How strongly and awfully 
 portrayed! How pregnant also in its signification I intimating the 
 vile nature, and expressing the total extirpation, of this wicked people ; 
 
250 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 O ! that the inhabitants of Great Britain would lay these 
 alarming considerations to heart ! The Lord of Hosts has 
 commanded the sword of civil discord to return into its 
 sheath. But have we returned, every one from his evil 
 toays? Are we become a renewed people, devoted to a 
 dying Saviour, and zealous of good works ? What mean 
 those peals of sobs which burst from the ecvpiring cattle 9 
 What mean those melancholy moans, where the lusty droves 
 were wont to low ? * What mean those arrows of untimely 
 death, discharged on our innocent and useful animals ? 
 
 No wantonness or sloth has vitiated the blood of these 
 laborious, temperate creatures. They have contracted no 
 disease from unseasonable indulgences and inordinate re- 
 vellings. The pure stream is their drink, the simple herb 
 their repast. Neither care disturbs their sleep, nor passion 
 inflames their breast. W^hence then are they visited with 
 such terrible disorders, as no prudence can prevent, nor 
 any medicines heal ? Surely, these calamities are the wea- 
 pons of divine displeasure, and manifest chastisements of 
 an evil generation. f Surely God, the '^^ God to whom ven- 
 geance belongeth," 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^ 
 
 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, per- 
 haps 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. 
 ■Y Hinc latis vituU vulgo moriuntur in herbis, 
 Et dukes atiimas plena ad prcesepia reddunt, 
 Balatu hinc peconim^ et crebris mugitibus amneSy 
 Arentesque sonant ripep, collesque supini. — Virg, 
 
 % Josh. iv. 18, 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 251 
 
 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, hi 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. ^Mthin a while they start from one another, 
 and, like legions in 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 hidicroiis, they repre- 
 sent 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 general panic seizes the country. 
 Every heart throbs, and every face is pale. The crowds 
 that flock together, instead of diminishing, increase the 
 dread. They catch contagion from each other's looks and 
 words 3 while fear is in every eye, and every tongue speaks 
 the language of terror. Some see hideous shapes, armies 
 mixing in fierce encounter, or fields swimming with blood. 
 Some foresee direful events, states overthrown, or mighty 
 monarchs 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 hea- 
 ven ?" " Jesus prepare us," cries a third, and lifts his 
 
252 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 eyes in devotion^ ^' for the archangel's tramps and the great 
 tribunal !" 
 
 If this leaving brightness, which plays innocently over 
 our heads, be so amazing to multitudes, what inexpressible 
 consternation must overwhelm unthinking mortals when the 
 general conjlagration commences ! The day, the dreadful 
 day, is approaching, in the which the heavens shall pass 
 away with a great noise,* and the elements 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 foun- 
 tains of the great deep, will then unlock all the magazines 
 of fire, and pour a second deluge upon the earth. The 
 vengeful flames, 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, 
 
 * 2 Pet. ill. 10. I have often thought this verse an eminent in- 
 stance of that kind of beautiful writing, in which the very sound bears 
 a sort of sigmficancy ; at least, carries an exiict correspondence with 
 the sense. The original expression — po;?>jSov — 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. 
 The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate 
 Harsh thunder. — Book II. 1. 879. 
 
 It is a pleasing employ, and a very laudable office of true criticism, 
 to point out these inferior recommendations of the Sacred Classics,- 
 though, I believe, the inspired writers themselves, amidst all the ele- 
 vation and magnificence of their divine ideas, disdained a scrupulous 
 attention to such little niceties of style. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 253 
 
 but the works of Almighty power, are fuel for the devour- 
 ing element. 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' icorld, unless the Lord Jehovah be 
 our defence ? How shall we be upheld in security, when 
 the globe itself is sinking in the fiery nun, unless the Rock 
 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 j 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 
 higher, till at length her silver loses all its drossy she 
 unveils her peerless light, and becomes '' the beauty of 
 heaven, the glory of the stars 3" * delighting every eye, and 
 cheering the Avliole world with the brightness of her ap- 
 pearance and the softness of her splendours. O ! thou 
 queen of the shades ! may it be my ambition to follow this 
 thy instructive example ! While others are fond to tran- 
 scribe the fashions of little courts, and to mimic personages 
 of inferior state ; be it mine to imitate thy improving pu- 
 rity ! 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 j shine with a richer lustre 
 than that which radiates from thy resplendent orb ; shine 
 
 * Ecclus. xliii. 9. 
 
 — — Lucidum ccsli decus, — Hor. 
 
254 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 with an unfading lustre j when every ray that beams from 
 thy beauteous sphere is totally extinguished ? 
 
 The day afforded us a variety of entertaining sights. 
 These were all withdrawn at the accession of darkness. 
 The starSj kindly officious^ immediately lent us their aid. 
 This served to alleviate the frown of nighty 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 J I see the green hedge-rows, though without the 
 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 ar- 
 rayed 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, f We are forward to 
 
 • Now reigns 
 
 Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light 
 Shadowy sets off the face of things. — Milt. 
 f As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night. 
 O'er heaven'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 every mountain's head : 
 Then shine the vales ; the rocks in prospect rise ; 
 A flood of glory bursts from all the skies ; 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 255 
 
 admire the performances of human art. A landscape, ele- 
 gantly designed, and executed with a masterly handj a 
 piece of statuary, which seems, amidst all the recommenda- 
 tions of exact proportion and graceful attitude, to soften 
 into flesh, and almost breathe ^vith life ; these little imita- 
 t'lons of nature we behold with a pleasing surprise. And 
 shall we be less affected, less delighted, with the inexpres- 
 sibly noble and completely finished original? Tlie ample 
 dimensions of RanelagJis 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 in- 
 genuity, 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 leant 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 dark- 
 ness ! 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-coloured mantle of night ! How desirable 
 to have our summer evenings illuminated ! that Ave may be 
 able to tread the dewy meads, and breathe the delicious 
 fragrance of our gardens j especially when the sultry heats 
 
 The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight. 
 Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. 
 
 Iliad VIII. 
 
 I 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 Horner's language, who can suspect their suffering any disadvantage 
 from the pen of his admirable tramlator? 
 * Ecclu-s. xliii. 9. 
 
256 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 render it irksome and fatiguing to walk abroad by day ! 
 How cheering to the shepherd the use of this universal lan- 
 tern, as he tends his fleecy charge^, or late consigns them to 
 their hurdled cots ! How comfortable and how advanta- 
 geous to the manner, as he ploughs the midnight main^ to 
 adjust the tackling, to explore his way, and, under the in- 
 fluence 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 splendour, not confined to a single edifice^ or com- 
 mensurate to a particular square, but diffusive as the whole 
 extent of the hemisphere. 
 
 The most faithful of our inferior servants are 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 pro- 
 long 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, in her decrease, prevents 
 the dawn, on purpose to offer her assistance ) and, because 
 it is so pleasant a thing for 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 3 and, in prosecution of these 
 benevolent intentions, has annexed so valuable an appen- 
 dage to the terrestrial globe ! Justly, therefore, does the 
 Psalmist celebrate that admirable constitution, which or- 
 dained the moon and the stars to govern the night, as an 
 instance of rich goodness and of mercy which endureth for 
 ever* 
 
 * Psal. cxxxvi. 9. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 257 
 
 The moon, it is confessed, is no luminous body. 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-suf- 
 ficient Redeemer, and his dependent people. We are re- 
 plenished from his fulness. AVhat 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.\ 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 TVisdom : \\ 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 delegated 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 \ti.io folly, 
 
 * I might, to justify this expression, observe, that the planet Venus, 
 commonly called the morning-star, is found, by our telescopes, fre- 
 quently 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. ^. Jer. xxiii. 6. || 1 Cor. i. 30. 
 
258 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 withdraw our souls from his benign influences ; lest we lose 
 our comfort and our holiness, as the fair ruler of the night 
 loses her splendour, when her urn is turned from its foun- 
 tain,* and receives no more communications of solar efful- 
 gence. 
 
 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 3 anon a radiant 
 crescent but just adorns her brow ; soon it dwindles into a 
 slender streak j till at length all her beauty vanishes, and 
 she becomes a beamless orb. Sometimes she rises with 
 the descending day, and begins her procession amidst ad- 
 miring multitudes j ere long she defers her progress till the 
 midnight ivatches, and steals unobserved upon the sleeping 
 world. Sometimes she just enters the edges of the western 
 horizon, and drops us a ceremonious visit j 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." 
 
 Such is the moon 5 and such are all sublunary things, ex- 
 posed to perpetual vicissitudes. How often and how soon 
 have the faint echoes of renown slept in silence, or been 
 converted into the clamours of obloquy ! The same lips, 
 almost with the same breath, cry Hosanna, and Crucify. 
 Have not riches confessed their notorious treachery a thou- 
 sand 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 ? 
 
 * Alluding to those truly poetical lines in Milton : 
 
 Hither, as to their fountain, other stars 
 Repairing, in their golden urns draw light. 
 
 Par. Lost, B.Yl\A,Z6i. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 259 
 
 Have we not known the bridegroom's closet an antechamber 
 to the tomb; and heard the voice^ which so lately pro- 
 nounced the sparkling pair husband and wife, proclaim an 
 everlasting divorce, and seal the decree with that solemn 
 asseveration, ^'^ Ashes to ashes, dust to dust r" Owx friends, 
 though the medicine of life 5 our health, though the balm of 
 nature j 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 sport- 
 ing 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 w ashes 
 his steps in butter, and the rock pours him out rivers of oil. 
 View him in his public character : princes revere his digni- 
 ty, the aged listen to his wisdom, every eye beholds him 
 with delight, every tongue loads him with blessings. View 
 him in his domestic circumstances : on one hand he is de- 
 fended 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 
 
 s2 
 
260 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 more instantaneous. The joyful parent is bereft of his 
 offspring, and his ''^ children are buried in death j" the man 
 of affluence is stripped 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 dra- 
 gons, a companion of owls." Nor need Ave go back to 
 former ages for proofs of this afflicting truth. In our times, 
 in all times, the wheel continues the same incessant whirl j 
 and, frequently, those who are triumphing to-day in the 
 highest elevations of joy, to-morrow are bemoaning the in- 
 stability of mortal affairs in the very depths of misery.* 
 Amidst so much fluctuation and uncertainty, how wretched 
 is the condition which has no anchor of the soul, sure and 
 steadfast. May thy loving- kindness, O God, be our pre- 
 sent treasure, and thy future glory our reversionary in- 
 heritance ! Then shall our happiness not be like the full- 
 orbed moon, which is '^ a light that decreaseth in its per- 
 fection," 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 1 see a repre- 
 
 * 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 \ery great instahUity. Job, xxii. 16. CDllD' pYV "IHJ rendered 
 by Schultens, Flumen fusum fundamentum eorum. Their foundation 
 (or what they reckon their most solid and stable possession) is a flood 
 poured out; which is one of the boldest images, and most poetical 
 beauties, I ever met with in any 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 waters, rushing in broken cata- 
 racts, and with impetuous rapidity, from a steep and craggy mountain. 
 Then, imagine to yourself an edifice, built upon the surge of this 
 rolling pi'ecipice, 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 on 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. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 261 
 
 sentation, 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 man living. Now we exercise it in some few in- 
 stances, 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 j how soon the ferv^our of 
 our gratitude cooled ! 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 thankful- 
 ness, should we " submit to the righteousness of our incar- 
 nate God 3" and receive, as a divine gift, what cannot be 
 
 * I would not be understood as measuring in this respect others by 
 myself, but as taking my estimate from the unerring standard of Scrip- 
 ture. And indeed, proceeding on this evidence, supported by this 
 authority, I 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. {Eccles.\\\.2Q.) Nay, 
 such is the purity and so extensive are the demands of the divine law, 
 that au 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. Fair 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 imper- 
 fect, and subject to many inequalities ; while their imputed righteous- 
 ness is every way complete, and constantly like itself. — Cant. vi. 10. 
 
262 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 acquired by human works !* A writer of the first distinc- 
 tion and nicest discernment, styles the obedience of our 
 glorious Surety, an everlasting righteousness ;f such as was 
 subject to no interruption, nor obscured by the least ble- 
 mish 3 but proceeded always in the same uniform tenor 
 of the most spotless perfection. This righteousness, in 
 another sense, answers the prophet's exalted description j 
 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 stripped 
 of her radiance ,- or, according to the emphatical language 
 of the Scripture, ''turned into blood." The earth, inter- 
 posing with its opake body, intercepted the solar rays, 
 and cast its own gloomy shadow on the moon. The 
 malignant influence gained upon her sickening orb 5 ex- 
 tinguished more and more the feeble remainders of light j 
 till at length, like one in a deep swoon, no comeliness was 
 left in her countenance j she was totally overspread with 
 darkness. At this juncture, what a multitude of eyes 
 were gazing upon the rueful spectacle ! even of those 
 eyes which disregarded the empress of the night, or beheld 
 her with indifi'erence, 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 pi7ing attention. 
 In every place, her misfortune is the object of general 
 observation, and the prevailing topic of discourse in every 
 company. 
 
 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 3 and 
 (after names of so much grandeur, may I be allowed to 
 
 * Rom. V. 17. — X. 3. + Dan. ix. 24. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 263 
 
 add ?) ministers labouring among their people 5* are each 
 in a conspicuous station. Their conduct in its minutest 
 step, especially in any miscarriage, will be narrowly sur- 
 veyed, and critically scanned. Can there be a louder 
 call, to ponder the paths of their feet, and to be par- 
 ticularly jealous over all their ways ? Those who move 
 in inferior life, may grossly offend, and little alarm be 
 given, perhaps no notice taken 3 but it is not to be ex- 
 pected, 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 cen- 
 sure, with her shrill trumpet, will be as far from con- 
 cealing them, as calumny, with her treacherous whispers, 
 from extenuating them. A planet may sink below the 
 horizon j or a star, for several months, withdraw its shin- 
 ing J and scarce one in ten thousand perceive the loss 5 
 but if the moon suffers a transient ecHpse, 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 ivestern 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 bright- 
 ness."f She seemed to contemplate herself with a peculiar 
 pleasure, while the transparent surface both received 
 and returned her silver image. 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 
 
 * Ye are the light of the icorld. A city that is set on a hill, cannot 
 be hid. — M-Att. v. 14. 
 
 t Job, xxxi. 26. 
 
264 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 •distinguished, so it will be ha^ipily in^uential ; 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 refiected from their families, their acquaintance, 
 their retainers 3 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 5 it swells the tides, 
 and perpetuates the reciprocal returns of ebb and flowj 
 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 happi- 
 ness, 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 thrones 
 and diadems 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 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 vrinning invitations 
 to my heart. Attract and rejine all my aficctions ; with- 
 draw them from stagnating on the sordid shores of flesh j 
 never suffer them to settle upon the impure lees of sense 5 
 but impress them with emotions of restless desires after 
 
 * Splendet tremulo sub lumine j}ontus.-—rViRG. 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 265 
 
 sublime and celestial joysj 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 un- 
 imaginable pleasure, when the moon, with her waxing 
 splendours, shall cheer our sight no more. 
 
 Enough for the present evening. My thoughts have 
 been sufficiently exercised, and my steps begin to be at- 
 tended with weariness. Let me obey the admonition of 
 nature, and give respite to my meditations, slumber to 
 my eyes. But stay. Shall 1 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 j and have a thousand darts of raillery ready 
 to discharge on the practice of devotion. The wits, I 
 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 j 
 or treat them, with a contemptuous sneer, as the parson's 
 ignoble trade. 
 
 Is it, then, an instance of superstitious blindness to dis- 
 tinguish, or of v^liims'ical 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 pro- 
 fess our devoted allegiance to the supreme Almighty Go- 
 vernor 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 w hich we give vent to an honest 
 anguish^ or melt into filial sorrow for our insensibilitj- 
 
266 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 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 j the amiable original of 
 all that is fair, grand, and harmonious 3 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 3 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 j 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 im- 
 provement of my nature ? deterred from all by ?i formidable 
 banter, or confuted by one irrefragable smile ? No j let 
 the moon, in her resplendent sphere j and yonder pole, 
 with all its starry train, witness, if I be silent even or 
 morn 3 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 3 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 3 thy hand recovered 
 me from the temporary lethargy 3 thy hand set a new, 
 a delicately fine edge, on all my blunted senses, and strung 
 luy sinews with recruited vigour. When my thoughts 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 267 
 
 were benumbed and stupefied, thy quickening influence 
 roused them into activity 3 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 gi'atiftcations of 
 a rational capacity. When darkness covered the creation, 
 at thy command the sun arose 3 painted the flowers, and 
 distinguished every object 3 gave light to my feet, and 
 gave nature, with all her beautiful scenes, to my eye. 
 To Thee, O Thou God of my strength, I owe the con" 
 thiuance 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 transforms itself, by 
 the nicest operations of an inexplicable kind of chymistry, 
 into a variety of the finest secretions, which glide into the 
 muscles, and swell them for action 3 or pour themselves 
 into the fluids, and repair their incessant decays 5 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 3 
 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 3 and 
 passed unhurt through a far greater multiplicity of unseen 
 evils. Not one of my bones was broken 3 not a single 
 shaft grazed upon my ease 3 even when the eye that 
 w^atched over me, saw, in its vvide 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 chas- 
 tisement proved a sovereign medicine to cure me of an 
 immoderate fondness for thi.s imperfect troublesome state, 
 and to quicken my desires after the unimbittered enjoy- 
 
268 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 ments of my eternal home. Has not thy munificence, 
 unwearied and unbounded^ spread my table, and furnished 
 it with the finest wheats 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 5 made resolute by thy grace, I shunned the 
 luscious bane. If, through the impulse of sensuality or 
 the violence of passion, 1 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 dis- 
 tinguished 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 3 for becoming more conformable to 
 thy image, and more meet for thy presence 5 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 goodj opened a 
 
ON THE NIGHT. 269 
 
 thousand avenues of delight j 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 3 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 I render him no expressions of thankfulness ? Then 
 might all nature reproach my ingratitude. Shall I rest 
 satisfied with the hare 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 hill 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 ex- 
 perienced goodness ? Thou hast been my helper through 
 all the busy scenes of day ; therefore under the shadow 
 of thy icings will I repose myself, during the darkness, 
 the danger, and death-like inactivity of the night. What- 
 ever defilement I have contracted, wash it thoroughly 
 away in redeeming blood j 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, whe- 
 ther I shall open my eyes in this worlds or awake in the 
 unknown regions of another." 
 
CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 THE STARRY HEAVENS. 
 
 There dwells a noble pathos in the skies. 
 Which warms our passions, proselytes our hearts. 
 How eloquently shines the glowing pole ! 
 With what authority it gives its charge. 
 Remonstrating great truths in style sublime ! 
 
 Night Thoughts, N*' IX. 
 
Drscwn "by R.WestsOl E_\ 
 
 Eng^-a-ved ty Qva^Heath. 
 
 mmmvu^s mhids^atecdm^ 
 
 VraElSr I CONSIDER THY HEAVEN'S, 
 
 Pm$1J:sHEB MAKCII 20,1818. 3JT E.KBWAHIi S, NK^VGATE STREET. 
 
CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 THE STARRY HEAVENS. 
 
 This evening I excliange the nice retreats of art for the 
 noble theatre of nature. Instead of measuring my steps 
 under the covert of an arbour, let me range along the 
 summit of this gently rising hill. There is no need of the 
 leafy shade, since the sun has quitted the horizon, and 
 withdrawn his scorching beams. But see, how advantages 
 and inconveniences are usually linked, and chequer our 
 affairs below ! If the annoying heat ceases, the landscape 
 and its pleasing scenes are also removed. The majestic 
 castle and the lowly cottage are vanished together. I 
 have lost the aspiring mountain and its russet brow 5 
 I look round, but to no purpose, for the humble vale and 
 its flowery lap. The plains whitened with flocks, and 
 the heath yellow with furze, disappear. The advancing 
 night has wrapped in darkness the long-extended forest j and 
 drawn her mantle over the windings of the silver stream. 
 I no longer behold that luxuriant fertility in the fields, 
 that wild magnificence of prospect, and endless variety 
 of images, which have so often touched me with delight, 
 and struck me with awe, from this commanding eminence. 
 
 The loss, however, is scarcely to be regretted, since 
 it is amply compensated by the opening beauties of the 
 sky. Here I enjoy a free view of the whole hemisphere. 
 
274 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 without any obstacle from below, to confine the exploring 
 eye ; or any cloud from above^ to overcast the spacious 
 concave. 'Tis true, the lively vermilion, which so lately 
 streaked the chambers of the west, is all faded 3 but the 
 planets, one after another, light up their lamps ; the stars 
 advance in their glittering train j a thousand and a thousand 
 luminaries shine forth in successive splendours, and the 
 whole firmament is kindled into the most beautiful glow. 
 The blueness of the aether, heightened by the season of the 
 year, and still more enlivened by the absence of the moon, 
 give those gems of heaven the strongest lustre. 
 
 One pleasure more the invading gloom has not been 
 able to snatch from my sense ; the night rather improves 
 than destroys the fragrance which exhales from the bloom.- 
 hig beans ; with these the sides of this sloping declivity 
 are lined ; and with these the balmy zephyrs perfume 
 their wings. Does Arabia, from all her spicy groves, 
 breathe a more liberal or a more charming gale of sweets ? 
 And, what is a peculiar recommendation of the rural 
 entertainments presented in our happy land, they are 
 alloyed by no apprehensions of danger. No poisonous 
 serpent lurks under the blossom j nor any ravenous beast 
 lies ready to start from the thicket. — But I wander from 
 a far more exalted subject. My thoughts, like my affec- 
 tions, are too easily diverted from the heavens, and de- 
 tained by inferior objects. Away, my attention, from these 
 little blandishments of the earth, since all the glories of the 
 sky invite thy regard. 
 
 We have taken a turn among the tombs, and viewed 
 the solemn memorials of the dead, in order to learn the 
 vanity of mortal things, and to break their soft enchant- 
 ment. We have surveyed the ornaments of the garden; 
 not that the heart might be planted in the parterre, or 
 take root among the flowery race j but that these delicacies 
 of a day might teach us to aspire after a better paradise, 
 where beauty never fades^ and delight is ever in the bloom. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 275 
 
 A third time we lighted the candle of meditation, and 
 sought for wisdom, not in the crowded city or wrangling 
 schools, but in the silent and lonely icalhs of ancient night J^ 
 Let us once more indulge the contemplative vein, and 
 raise our speculations to those suhVimer works of the great 
 Creator, which the regions of the sky contain, and this 
 dusky hour unveils. f 
 
 If we have discerned the touches of his pencil, glowing 
 in the colours of springs if we have seen a sample of 
 his beneficence, exhibited in the stores of nature 3 and 
 a ray of his brightness, beaming in the blaze of day 5 
 what an infinitely richer field for the display of his per- 
 fections are the heavens ! The heavens, in the most em- 
 phatical manner, declare the glory of God. The heavens 
 are nobly eloquent of the Deity, and the most magnificent 
 heralds of their Maker's praise. They speak to the whole 
 universe ; for there is neither speech so barbarous, but 
 their language is understood ; nor nation so distant, but 
 their voices are heard among them. J Let me then, in 
 this solemn season, formed for thought and a calm inter- 
 course with heaven 3 let me listen to their silent lectures : 
 perhaps I may receive such impressive manifestations of 
 '^ the Eternal Power and Godhead," as may shed religion 
 on my soul, while I walk the solitary shades 3 and may be 
 a tutelary friend to my virtue, when the call of business, 
 and the return of light, expose me again to the inroads of 
 temptation. 
 
 The Israelites, instigated by frenzy rather than devotion, 
 worshipped the host of heaven 3 and the pretenders to 
 judicial astrology talk of, 1 know not what, mysterious 
 
 « 
 
 Referring to the several subjects of the three preceding essays, 
 f Night opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe 
 Which gives those venerable scenes full weight. 
 And deep reception in the entender'd heart. 
 
 Night Thoughts, N^ IX, 
 X Psal. xix. 3. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 efficacy in the different aspect of the stars, or the various 
 conjunction and opposition of the planets. Let those who 
 are unacquainted with the sure word of revelation, give 
 ear to these sons of delusion and dealers in deceit : for 
 my part, it is a question of indifference to me, whether 
 the constellations shone with smiles, or lowered in frowns, 
 on the hour of my nativity. Let Christ be my guardy 
 and, secure in such a protection, I would laugh at their 
 impotent menaces. Let Christ be my guide, and I shall 
 scorn to ask, as well as despair of receiving, any predictory 
 information from such senseless masses. What ! shall 
 *' the living seek to the dead ?"* Can these bodies ad- 
 vertise me of future events, which are unconscious of 
 their own existence ? Shall I have recourse to dull un- 
 intelligent matter, when I may apply to that all-wise 
 Being, who, with one comprehensive glance, distinctly 
 views whatever is lodged in the bosom of immensity, or 
 forming in the womb of futurity ? Never, never will I 
 search for any intimations of m^ fate, but often trace my 
 CxedXov^ footsteps in yonder starry plains. f In the former 
 case, they would be teachers of lies 3 in the latter, they 
 
 * Isa. viii. 19. 
 
 -f- *' It is most becoming (says a great author) such imperfect 
 creatures as we are, to contemplate the works of God with this 
 design, that we may discern the manifestations of wisdom in them, 
 and thereby excite in ourselves those devout affections, and that 
 superlative respect, which is the very essence of praise, as it is a 
 reasonable and moral service." Abernethy on the Attributes. — And 
 indeed, if we are sincerely disposed to employ ourselves in this 
 excellent, this delightful duty of praising the infinite Creator, the 
 means and the motives are both at hand. His works, in a wonderful 
 and instructive variety, present themselves with pregnant manifesta- 
 tions of the mos-t transcendent excellencies of their Maker. They 
 pour their evidence from all quarters, and into all the avenues of 
 the mind. They invite us, especially, in the magnificent system of 
 the universe, to contemplate — counsel, consummately wise ; and exe- 
 cution, inimitably perfect; poicer, to which nothing is impossible; 
 and goodness, which extendeth to all, which endureth for ever. — To 
 give, not a full display, but only some slight strictures of these 
 glorious truths, is the principal scope of the following remarks. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 277 
 
 are oracles of truth. In this therefore^ this sense only, I 
 profess myself the pupil of the stars. 
 
 The vulgar are apprehensive of nothing more than a 
 multitude of bright spangles, dropped over the aethereal 
 blue. They have no higher notion of these fine appear- 
 ances, than that they are so many golden studs, with 
 which the empyrean arch is decorated. But studious 
 minds, that carry a more accurate and strict inquiry among 
 the celestial bodies, bring back advices of a most astonish- 
 ing import. Let me just recollect the most material of 
 those stupendous discoveries, in order to furnish out proper 
 subjects for contemplation. And let the unlearned re^ 
 member, that the scene I am going to display, is the 
 workmanship of that incomprehensible God, who is " per- 
 fect in knowledge, and mighty in power 3" whose name, 
 whose nature, and all whose operations, are ^'^ great and 
 marvellous j" who summons into being, with equal ease, 
 a single grain or ten thousand worlds. To this if we con- 
 tinually advert, the assertions, though they will certainly 
 excite our admiration, need not transcend our belief. 
 
 The earth is, in fact, a round body, however it may 
 seem in some parts to be sunk into vales, and raised into 
 hills 3* in other parts, to be spread into a spacious plain, 
 extending to the confines of the heavens, or terminated 
 by the waters of the ocean. We may fancy, that it has 
 deep foundations, and rests upon some prodigiously solid 
 
 * A learned -sNTiter, I think Dr. Derham, has somewhere an ob- 
 servation to this purpose: "That the loftiest summits of hills, and 
 the most enormous ridges of mountains, are no real objection to the 
 globular or round form of the earth ; because, however they may 
 render it to our limited sight, vastly uneven and protuberant, yet they 
 bear no more proportion to the entire surface of the terraqueous ball, 
 than a particle of dust, casually dropped on the mathematician's 
 globe, bears to its whole circumference ; consequently, the rotund 
 figure is no more destroyed in the former case, than in the latter." 
 On the same principle, I have not thought it necessary to take any 
 notice of the comparatively small difference between the polar and 
 equatorial diameter of the earth. 
 
278 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 basis. But it is pendent in the wide transpicuous aether, 
 without any visible cause to uphold it from above,, or 
 support it from beneath. It may seem to be sedentary in 
 its attitude, and motionless in its situation ; but it is con- 
 tinually sailhig * through the depths of the sky, and in the 
 space of twelve months finishes the mighty voyage : which 
 periodical rotation produces the seasons, and completes 
 the year. As it proceeds in the annual circuit, it spins 
 upon its own centre, and turns its sides alternately to the 
 fountain of light : by which means, the day dawns in one 
 hemisphere, while the night succeeds in the other. With- 
 out this expedient, one part of its regions would, during 
 half the great revolution, be scorched with excessive heat, 
 or languish under an unintermitted glare ; while the other, 
 exposed to the contrary extremes, would be frozen to ice, 
 and buried under a long oppression of dismal cind destruc-, 
 tive darkness. 
 
 I cannot forbear taking notice, that in this compound 
 motion of the earth, the one never interferes with the 
 other, but both are perfectly cowpatible. Is it not thus 
 with the precepts of religion, and the needful affairs of the 
 present life, not excepting even the innocent gratifications 
 of our appetites ? Some, I believe, are apt to imagine, 
 that they must renounce society if they devote themselves 
 to Christ 5 and abandon all the satisfactions of this world, 
 if they once become zealous candidates for the felicity of 
 another. But this is a very mistaken notion, or else a very 
 injurious representation, of the doctrine which is accord- 
 ing to godliness. It was never intended to drive men into 
 deserts, but to lead them through the peaceful and pleasant 
 paths of wisdom, into the blissful regions of life eternal, 
 It was never intended to strike off the wheels of business, 
 
 * With what amazing speed this vessel (if I may carry on the 
 allusion), filled with a multitude of nations, and freighted Avith all 
 their possessions, makes her way through the aethereal space, see 
 page 294, in note. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 279 
 
 or cut in sunder the sinews of industry; but rather to 
 make men industrious from a principle of conscience, not 
 from the instigations of avarice; that so they may promote 
 their immortal happiness, even while they provide for their 
 temporal maintenance. It has no design to extirpate our 
 passions, but only to restrain their irregularities j neither 
 w^ould it extinguish the delights of sense, but prevent them 
 from evaporating into vanity, and subsiding into gall. A 
 person may be cheerful among his friends, and yet joyful 
 in God. He may taste the sweets of his earthly estate, 
 and at the same time cherish his hopes of a nobler in- 
 heritance in heaven. The trader may prosecute the de- 
 mands of commerce, without neglecting to negotiate the 
 affairs of his salvation. The tcarrior may wear his sword, 
 may draw in a just cause that murderous weapon, yet 
 be a good soldier of Jesus Christ, and obtain the crown 
 that fadeth not away. The parent may lay up a competent 
 portion for his children, and not forfeit his title to the 
 treasures either of grace or of glory. So far is Christianity 
 from obstructing any valuable interest, or withholding any 
 real pleasure, that it improves the one and advances the 
 other : just as the diurnal and annual motions are so far 
 from clashing, that they entirely accord; and, instead of 
 being destructive of each other, by mutually blending 
 their eflfects, they give proportion and harmony to time, 
 fertility and innumerable benefits to nature. 
 
 To us, who dwell on its surface, the earth is by far the 
 most extensive orb that our eyes can any where behold. 
 It is also clothed with verdure, distinguished by trees, and 
 adorned with a variety of beautiful decorations. WTiereas 
 to a spectator placed on one of the planets, it wears an 
 uniform aspect, looks all luminous, and no larger than 
 a spot; to beings who dwell at still greater distances, 
 it entirely disappears. That which we call, alternately, 
 the morning and the evening star; as in one part of 
 her orbit^ she rides foremost in the procession of nighty 
 
280 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 in the other, ushers in and anticipates the dawn ; is a 
 planetary worlds which, with the four others, that so 
 wonderfully vary their mystic dance, are in themselves 
 dark bodies, and shine only by reflection : have fields, 
 and seas, and skies of their own ; are furnished with all 
 accommodations for animal subsistence, and are supposed 
 to be the abodes of intellectual life : all which, together 
 with this our earthly habitation, are dependent on that 
 grand dispenser of divine munificence, the sun ; receive 
 their light from the distribution of his rays, and derive 
 their comforts from his benign agency. 
 
 The stin, which seems to perform its daily stages through 
 the sky, is, in this respect,* ^cved and immoveable. 'Tis 
 the great axle of heaven, about which the globe we in- 
 habit, and other more spacious orbs, wheel their stated 
 courses. The sun, though seemingly smaller than the 
 dial it illuminates, is abundantly larger than the whole 
 earth ,-f on which so many lofty mountains rise, and such 
 vast oceans roll. A line extending from side to side, 
 through the centre of that resplendent orb, would measure 
 more than eight hundred thousand miles -, a girdle, formed 
 to go roi^nd its circumference, would require a length 
 of millions : were its solid contents to be estimated, the 
 account would overwhelm our understanding, and be al- 
 most beyond the power of language to express. | Are we 
 startled at these reports of philosophy? Are we ready 
 
 * I say, in this respect, that I may not seem to forget or exclude the 
 revohition of the sun round its own axis. 
 
 f A hundred thousand times, according to the ioivest reckoning. 
 Sir Isaac Newton computes the sun to be 900,000 times bigger than 
 the earth. — Religious Philosopher , p. 749. 
 
 + Dr. Derham^ after having calculated the dimensions of the pla- 
 nets, adds, — "Amazing as these masses are, they are all far outdone 
 by that stupendous globe of light, the sun ; which, as it is the foun- 
 tain of light and heat to all the planets about it, so doth it far surpass 
 them all in its bulk : its apparent diameter being computed at 822, 
 148 English miles, its ambit at 2,582,873r miles, and its solid contents 
 at 290,971,000,000,000,000."— ^*/ro-rAeo/. Book I. chap, ii. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 281 
 
 to cry out^ in a transport of surprise : '' How 7nighty Is 
 the Being who kindled such a prodigious fire^ and keeps 
 alive, from age to age, such an enormous mass of flame 1" 
 Let us attend our philosophic guides, and we shall be 
 brought acquainted with speculations more enlarged and 
 more amazing. 
 
 This sun, with all its attendant planets, is but a very 
 little part of the grand machine of the universe. Every 
 star, though in appearance no bigger than the diamond 
 that glitters upon a lady's ring, is really a vast globe, like 
 the sun in size and in glory 5 no less spacious, no less 
 luminous, than the radiant source of our day 3 so that 
 every star is, not barely a world, but the centre of a 
 magnificent system ; has a retinue of worlds, irradiated by 
 its beams, and revolving round its attractive influence ; all 
 which are lost, to our sight, in unmeasurable wilds of 
 aether. That the stars appear like so many diminutive and 
 scarce distinguishable points, is owing to their immense 
 and inconceivable distance. Immense and inconceivable 
 indeed it is j since a ball, shot from the loaded cannon, 
 and flying with unabated rapidity, must travel, at this 
 impetuous rate, almost seven hundred thousand years, * 
 before it could reach the nearest of those twinkling lu- 
 minaries. 
 
 Can any thing be more wonderful than these observa- 
 tions ? Yes ; there are truths far more stupendous 3 the;e 
 are scenes far more extensive. As there is no end of tiie 
 Almighty Maker's greatness, so no imagination can set 
 limits to his creating hand. Could you soar beyond the 
 moon, and pass through all the planetary choir ; could you 
 wing your way to the highest apparent star, and take your 
 stand on one of those loftiest pinnacles of heaven 3 you 
 would, there, see other skies expanded ; another sun, distri- 
 buting his inexhaustible beams by day; other stars, that 
 
 * See Religious Philosopher, p. 819. 
 
282 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 gild the horrors of the alternate night j and other, ^ perhaps 
 nobler systems, established ; established, in unknown pro- 
 fusion, through the boundless dimensions of space. Nor 
 does the dominion of the universal Sovereign terminate 
 there. Even at the end of this vast tour, you would find 
 yourself advanced no farther than the suburbs of creation j 
 arrived only at the frontiers of the great Jehovah's king- 
 dom, f 
 
 And do they tell me that the sun, the moon, and all the 
 planets, are but a little part of his works ? How great , 
 then, are his signs ! and how mighty are his ivonders ! | 
 And if so, what is the Creator himself? how far exalted 
 above all praise ! who is so high, that he looks down on 
 the highest of these dazzling spheres, and sees even the 
 summit of creation in a vale -, so great, that this prodigious 
 extent of space is but a point in his presence j and all this 
 confluence of worlds as the lightest atom that fluctuates in 
 air, and sports in the meridian ray.§ 
 
 * See Astro-Theology f Book II. chap. ii. — ^where the author, having 
 assigned various reasons to support this theory of our modern astrono" 
 mers, adds : ** Besides the fore-mentioued strong probabilities, we 
 have this farther recommendation of such an account of the universe, 
 that it is far more magnificent, and worthy of the infinite Creator, than 
 any other of the narrower schemes." 
 
 •f Job, after a most beautiful dissertation on the mighty works of 
 God, as they are distributed through universal nature, from the heights 
 of heaven to the very depths of hell, closes the magnificent account 
 with this acknowledgment : Lo ! these are parts of his ways : or, as 
 tie original word more literally signifies, and may, I think, be more 
 ^egantly rendered : These are only the skirts, the very outermost bor- 
 ders of his works ; no more than a small preface to the immense vo- 
 lume of the creation. From the Hebrew rHYp, extremities, 1 cannot 
 forbear thinking on the extreme and very d^ttennsLted Jibres of the root, 
 when compared with the whole substance of the trunk; or on the ex- 
 quisitely small size of the capillary vessels, when compared with the 
 whole structure of the body.— ./oi, xxvi. 14. 
 
 + Dan.iv. 3. 
 
 § This puts me in mind of a very fine remark on a Scriptural 
 beauty, and a solid correction of the common translation, made by 
 that learned, sagacious, and devout expositor, ^i^rm^a — Isa. xl. 15. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 283 
 
 Thou most sublime and incomprehensibly glorious God, 
 how am 1 overwhelmed with awe j how sunk into the lowest 
 prostration of mind 3 when I consider thy excellent great- 
 ness, and my own utter insignificancy ! And have I^ ex- 
 cessively mean as I am, have I entertained any conceited 
 apprehensions of myself ? Have I felt the least elatement 
 of thought in the presence of so majestic and adorable a 
 Being? How should this wound me with sorrow, and 
 cover me with confusion ! O my God, was I possessed of 
 all the high perfections which accomplish and adorn the 
 angels of light 3 amidst all these noble endowments, I would 
 fall down in the deepest abasement at thy feet. Lost in the 
 infinitely superior blaze of thy uncreated glories, I would 
 confess myself to be nothing, to be less than nothing, and 
 vanity. How much more ought I to maintain the most 
 unfeigned humiliation before thy divine majesty, who am 
 not only dust and ashes, but a compound of ignorance, im- 
 perfection, and depravity ! 
 
 While beholding this vast expanse, I learn my own ex^ 
 treme meanness j I would also discover the abject littleness 
 of all terrestrial things. AVhat is the earth, with all her 
 ostentatious scenes, compared with this astonishingly grand 
 
 we find it written of the Supreme Being, that he taketh up the isles as 
 a very little thing ; which, our critic observes, is neither answerable 
 to the import of the original, nor consonant to the structure of the 
 discourse. The prophet had no intention to inform mankind what 
 the Almighty could do Avith regard to the islands, if he pleased to 
 exert uncontrollable power : his design was to show how insignificant, 
 or rather what mere nothings they are in his esteem, and before his 
 majesty. The islands, says he, though so spacious as to afford room 
 for the erection of kingdoms, and the abode of nations ; though so 
 strong as to Avithstand, for many thousands of years, the raging and 
 reiterated assaults of the whole watery world ; are yet, before the 
 adored Jehovah, small as the minutest grain which the eye can scarce 
 discern ; light as the feathered mote which the least breath hurries 
 away like a tempest. VlD» pp CD»»« Insulce sunt ut leve quid, quod 
 avolat. The deep-rooted isla?ids are as the volatile atom, which, by 
 the gentlest undulations of the air, is wafted to and fro in perpetual 
 «igitation. 
 
2S4 tJONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 furniture of the skies? What, but a dim speck, hardly 
 perceivable in the map of the universe ? It is observed by 
 a very judicious writer,* that if the sun himself, which en- 
 lightens this part of the creation, was extinguished, and all 
 the host of planetary worlds which move about him were 
 annihilated, they would not be missed by an eye that can 
 take in the whole compass of nature, any more than a grain 
 of sand upon the sea shore. The bulk of which they con- 
 sist, and the space which they occupy, is so exceedingly 
 little in comparison of the whole, that their loss would 
 scarce leave a blank in the immensity of God's works. If, 
 then, not our globe only, but this whole system^ be so very 
 diminutive, what is a kingdom, or a country ? what are a 
 few lordships, or the so much admired patrimonies of those 
 who are styled wealthy ? f When I measure them with my 
 own little pittance, they swell into proud and bloated di- 
 mensions ; but when I take the universe for my standard, 
 how scanty is their size, how contemptible their figure ! 
 They shrink into pompous nothings. % 
 
 When the keen -eyed eagle soars above all the feathered 
 race, and leaves their very sight below ; when she wings 
 her way, with direct ascent, up the steep of heaven, and, 
 steadily gazing on the meridian sun, accounts its beaming 
 splendours all her own 3 does she then regard, with any 
 solicitude, the mote that is flying in the air, or the dust 
 which she shook from her feet ? And shall this eternal 
 mind, which is capable of contemplating its Creator's glory j 
 which is intended to enjoy the visions of his countenance 3 
 shall this eternal mind, endued with such great capacities, 
 and made for such exalted ends, be so ignobly ambitious as 
 to sigh for the tinsels of state 3 or so poorly covetous as to 
 
 * Spect. Vo1.VIII.no 565. 
 
 f Juvat inter sidera vagantem divitum pavimenta ridere, et totam 
 eum auro sito terram. — Sev. 
 X TerrellcB grandia inania.'-'W atts's Her. Lyr, 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 285 
 
 gasp after ample territories on a needle's point? Noj 
 under the influence of such considerations I feel my senti- 
 ments expand, and my wishes acquire a turn of sublimity. 
 My throbbing desires after worldly grandeur die away; 
 and 1 find myself, if not possessed of power, yet superior 
 to its charms. Too long, must I own, have my affections 
 been pinioned by vanity, and immured in this earthly clod. 
 But these thoughts break the shackles * These objects 
 open the door of liberty. My soul, fired by such noble 
 prospects, weighs anchor from this little nook, and coasts 
 no longer about its contracted shores, dotes no longer on 
 its painted shells. The immensity of things is her range, 
 and an infinity of bliss is her aim. 
 
 Behold this immense expanse, and admire the condeseen." 
 sion of thy God. In this manner, an inspired and princely 
 astronomer improved his survey of the nocturnal heavens, 
 PFhen I consider thy heavens, even the ivorks of thy fingers, 
 the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, I am 
 smitten with wonder at thy glory, and cry out, in a trans- 
 port of gratitude. Lord, ivhat is man, that thou art mindful 
 of him ; or the son of man, that thou visitest him ?f " How 
 amazing, how charming, is that divine benignity, which is 
 pleased to bow down its sacred regards to so foolish and 
 worthless a creature ! yea, disdains not, from the height of 
 infinite exaltation, to extend its kind providential care to 
 our most minute concerns ! This is amazing ; but that the 
 Everlasting Sovereign should give his Son, to be made 
 flesh, and become our Saviour ! Shall I call it a miracle of 
 
 * The soul of man was made to walk the skies. 
 
 Delightful outlet of her prison here ! 
 
 There, disencumber'd from her chains, the ties 
 
 Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; 
 
 Tliere freely can respire, dilate, extend. 
 
 In full proportion let loose all her powers. 
 
 l^ight Thoughts, No IX, 
 t Psal. viii. 3, 4. 
 
286 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 condescending goodness ? ratlier_, what are all miracles^ what 
 are all mysteries,, to this ineffable gift ?" 
 
 Had the brightest archangel been commissioned to come 
 down with the olive-branch of peace in his hand^ signifying 
 his Eternal Maker's readiness to be reconciled j on our 
 bended knees^, with tears of joy, and a torrent of thankful- 
 nes3, we ought to have received the transporting news; 
 but when, instead of such an angelic envoy, he sends his 
 only -begotten Son^ his Son beyond all thought illustrious, 
 to make us the gracious overture ^ sends him from the 
 " habitation of his holiness and glory," to put on the iw/?r- 
 mit'ies of mortality, and dwell in a tabernacle of clay ; sends 
 him, not barely to make us a transient visit, but to abide 
 many years in our inferior and miserable world j sends him, 
 not to exercise dominion over monarchs, but to wear out 
 his life in the ignoble form of a servant; and, at last, to 
 make his exit under the infamous character of a malefactor ! 
 Was ever love like this ? Did ever grace stoop so low ? * 
 
 * This reminds me of a very noble piece of sacred oratory, where, 
 in a fine series of the most beautiful gradations, the apostle displays 
 the admirably condescending kindness of our Saviour. He thought it 
 no robbery, it was his indisputable right, to be equal with the infinite, 
 self-existent, immortal God; yet, in mercy to sinners, he emptied 
 himself of the incommunicable honours, and laid aside the robes of 
 incomprehensible glory. When he entered upon his mediatorial state, 
 instead of acting in the grand capacity of universal sovereign, he took 
 iipon him the form of a servant; and not the form of those minister- 
 ing spirits whose duty is dignity itself; who are throned, though 
 adoring. He took not on him the nature of angels, but stooped 
 incomparably lower ; assumed a body of animated dust, and was made 
 in the likeness of men, those inferior and depraved creatures. Asto- 
 nishing condescension ! but not sufficient for the overflowing richness 
 of the Redeemei^'s love ; for, being found in fashion as a man, he hum- 
 bled himself fariher still ; he occupied the lowest place, where all was 
 low and ignoble. He not only submitted to the yoke of the law, but 
 also bore the infirmities, and ministered to the necessities of mortals. 
 He even washed the feet of others, and had not where to lay his own 
 head. Yea, he carried his meritorious humiliation to the very deepest 
 degrees of possible abasement. He became obedient unto death; and 
 not to a common or natural death, but a death more infamous than 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 287 
 
 Should the sun be shorn of all his radiant honours, and 
 degraded into a clod of the valleys 3 should all the digni- 
 taries of heaven be deposed from their thrones, and dege- 
 nerate into insects of a day j great, great would be the 
 abasement ; but nothing to thine, most blessed Jesus ; 
 nothing- to thine, thou Prince of Peace 3 when, for us men 
 and for our salvation, thou didst not abhor the coarse 
 accommodations of the manger -, thou didst not decline even 
 the gloomy horrors of the grave. 
 
 'Tis well the sacred oracles have given this doctrine the 
 most explicit confirmation, and evidence quite incontestable 5 
 otherwise, a favour so undeserved, so unexpected, and rich 
 beyond all imagination, might stagger our belief. Could 
 He, who launches all these planetary globes through the 
 illimitable void, and leads them on, from age to age, in 
 their extensive career ; could he resign his hands, to be 
 confined by the girding cord, and his back to be ploughed 
 by the bloody scourge ? Could He, who crowns all the 
 stars with inextinguishable brightness, be himself defiled 
 with spitting) and disfigured with the thorny scar ? It is 
 the greatest of wonders, and yet the surest of truths, 
 
 O ! ye mighty orbs, that roll along the spaces of the 
 sky J I wondered, a little while ago, at your vast dimensions, 
 and ample circuits. But now my amazement ceases 3 or 
 rather, is entirely swallowed up by a much more stupen- 
 dous subject. Methinks, your enormous bulk is shrivelled 
 to an atom; your prodigious revolutions are contracted to 
 a span ; while I muse upon the far more elevated heights 
 and unfathomable depths, the infinitely more extended 
 lengths and unlimited breadths, o/'this love of God in Christ 
 Jesus. * 
 
 Contemplating this stately expanse, I see a mirror, which 
 
 the gibbet, more torturous than the rack ; even the accursed death of 
 the cross. — Phil. ii. 6, 7, 8. 
 
 * Eph. iii. 18, 19. 
 
288 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 represents, in the most awful colours, the he'motisness of 
 human guilt. Ten thousand volumes, wrote on purpose to 
 display the aggravations of my various acts of disobedience, 
 could not so effectually convince me of their inconceivable 
 enormity, as the consideration of that all-glorious PersoUj'^ 
 who, ta make an atonement for them, spilt the last drop of 
 his blood. / have sinned^ may every child of Adam say j 
 and what shall I do unto thee, O thou Observer of men? \ 
 Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of 
 my body for the sin of my soul ? Vain commutation ! and 
 such as would be rejected by the blessed God with the 
 utmost abhorrence. Will all the potentates, that sway the 
 sceptre in a thousand kingdoms, devote their royal and 
 honoured lives to rescue an obnoxious creature from the 
 stroke of vengeance ? Alas ! it must cost more, incom- 
 parably more, to expiate the malignity of sin, and save a 
 guilty wretch from hell. Will all the principalities of heaven 
 be content to assume my nature, and resign themselves to 
 death for my pardon ? | Even this would be too mean a 
 satisfaction for inexorable justice 3 too scanty a reparation 
 
 * Quo qutsque altius ascendit in agnitione Christi, eo profundius 
 peccati atrovitatem cognoscet. 
 
 f Job, y\\.2Q. Not Preserver, as it stands in our version, but 
 Observer of men ; which phrase, as it denotes the exact and incessant 
 inspection of the divine eye ; as it intimates the absolute impossibility 
 that any transgression should escape the divine notice; is evidently 
 most proper, both to assign the reason, and heighten the emphasis of 
 the context. 
 
 + Milton sets this thought in a very poetical and striking light. 
 All the sanctities of heaven stand round the throne of the Supreme 
 Majesty. God foresees and foretels the fall of man ; the ruin which 
 will unavoidably ensue on his transgression; and the utter impossi- 
 bility of his being able to extricate himself from the abyss of misery : 
 
 He, with his whole posterity, must die ; 
 Die he or justice must; unless for him 
 Some other able, and as willing, pay 
 The rigid satisfaction, death for death. 
 
 After which affecting representation, intended to raise tlie most ten- 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 289 
 
 of God's injured honour. So flagrant is human guilt, that 
 nothing but a victim of infinite dignity could constitute an 
 adequate propitiation. He who said, '^ Let there be light, 
 and there was light j" Let there be a firmament, and imme- 
 diately the blue curtains floated in the sky -, he must take 
 flesh ; he must feel the fierce torments of crucifixion, and 
 pour out his soul in agonies, if ever such transgressors are 
 pardoned. 
 
 How vast is that debt which all the wealth of both the 
 Indies cannot discharge ! How vitiated that habit of body, 
 which all the drugs produced by nature herself cannot 
 rectify ! But how much more ruined was thy condition, 
 O ray soul ! how much more heinous w^ere thy crimes ! 
 since nothing less than the sufferings and death of Messiah, 
 the Son of God, and radiant image of his glory, could 
 eff*ect thy recovery, or cancel thy iniquity. Though, per- 
 haps, thou art not sunk so very deep in pollution as some 
 of the most abandoned profligates, yet remember the in- 
 estimable ransom paid to redeem thee from everlasting 
 
 der emotions of pity, the following inquiry is addressed to all the 
 surrounding angels : 
 
 Say, heavenly powers, where shall we find such love ? 
 Which of you will be mortal, to redeem 
 Man's mortal crime } and die, the dead to save ? 
 He ask'd ; but all the heavenly choir stood mute. 
 And silence was in heaven. 
 
 There is, to me at least, an inimitable spirit and beauty in the last 
 circumstance — that such an innumerable multitude of generous and 
 compassionate beings should be struck dumb with surprise and terror 
 at the very mention of the deadly forfeiture and ransam set! No 
 language is so eloquent as this silence. Words could not possibly have 
 expressed, in so emphatical a manner, the dreadful nature of the 
 task ; the absolute inability of any or all creatures to execute it ; the 
 supereminent and matchless love of the eternal Son, in undertaking 
 the tremendous work, not only without reluctance, but, unsought and 
 unimplored, with readiness, alacrity, and delight. — Paradise Lost, 
 book III. 1. 209, edit. Bentl. 
 
2&0 Contemplations 
 
 destruction. Remember this^ and " never open thy mouth 
 any more," * either to murmur at the divine chastisements, 
 or to glory in thy own attainments. Remember this ; and 
 even ^'loathe tliyselff for the multitude of thy provoca- 
 tions," and thy great baseness. 
 
 Once more ', let me view this beautiful, this magnificent 
 expanse, and conceive some juster apprehensions of the 
 unknown richness of my Saviour s atonement. I am in- 
 formed by a writer who cannot mistake, that the High- 
 Priest of my profession, who was also the sacrifice for my 
 sins, is higher than the heavens ; X more exalted in dignity, 
 more bright with glory, than all the heavenly mansions, 
 and all their illustrious inhabitants. If my heart was hum- 
 bled at the consideration of its excessive guilt, how do all 
 my drooping powers revive at this delightful thought ? The 
 poor criminal, that seemed to be tottering on the very 
 brink of the infernal pit, is raised, by such a belief, even to 
 the portals of paradise. My self-abasement, I trust, will 
 ^'always continue -, but my fears, under the influence of such 
 ^a conviction, are quite gone. § I do not^ I cannot^ doubt 
 
 * Ezek. xvi. 63. f Ezek. xxxvi. 31. 
 
 *^ Heb. vii. 26. 
 
 '§ I am sorry to find, that some of my readers were a little disgusted 
 at this expression, my fears are quite gone; as thinking it discovered 
 a tincture of arrogance in the writer, and tended to discourage the 
 weak Christian. But, I hope, a more mature consideration will acquit 
 me from both these charges. For what has the author said ? Only, 
 that at some peculiarly happy moments, when the Holy Ghost bears 
 witness of Christ in his heart, and he is favoured with a glimpse of 
 the Redeemer's matchless excellency ; that, in these brighter intervals 
 of life, his trembling fears, with regard to the decisive sentence of 
 *^ the great tribunal, are turned into pleasing expectations. And what 
 - is there, in such a declaration, offensive to the strictest modesty, or 
 ' dispiriting to the weakest believer ? Instead of creating discourage- 
 ment, it points out the way to obtain a settled tranquillity : its natural 
 tendency is, to engage the serious mind in a more constant and atten- 
 tive meditation on the unknown merits of the divine Mediator ; and 
 were we more thoroughly acquainted, more deeply aifectedj with his 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 291 
 
 the efficacy of this propitiation. Wlule I see a glimpse of 
 its matclJess excelleucy, and verily believe myself interested 
 in its merits, I know not what it is to feel any misgiving 
 suspicions 5 but am steadfast in faith;, and joyful through 
 hope. 
 
 Be my iniquities like debts of millions of talents, here is 
 more than full payment for all that prodigious sum. Let 
 the enemy of mankind, and accuser of the brethren, load 
 me with invectives; this one plea — a divine Redeemer 
 died — most thoroughly quashes every indictment. For, 
 though there be much turpitude, and manifold transgres- 
 sions, " there is no condemnation to those that are in 
 Christ Jesus," — Nay, were 1 chargeable with all the vilest 
 deeds which have been committed in every age of the 
 world, by every nation of men 3 even in this most de- 
 plorable case, I need not sink into despair. Even such 
 guilt, though grievous beyond all expression^ is not to be 
 compared with that abundance of grace and righteousness 
 which dwell in the incarnate Divinity. How great, how 
 transcendently glorious are the perfections of the adored 
 Jehovah ! so great, so superlatively precious, is the e*r- 
 piation of the dying Jesus. 'Tis impossible for the human 
 mind to exalt this atonement too highly 3 * 'tis impossible 
 for the humble penitent to confide m it too steadily. The 
 
 unutterable dignity, I am persuaded our uneasy apprehensions would 
 proportionahly vanish, our faith be established, our hopes brightened, 
 and our joys enlarged. 
 
 * This doctrine, though rich with consolation to the ruined sinner, 
 yet is it not likely to open a door for licentiousness, and embolden 
 transgressors to prosecute their vices ? No ; it is the most powerful 
 motive to that genuine repentance, which Jloics from an unfeigned 
 love of God, and operates in a heaity detestation of all sin. One who 
 knew the unmeasurable goodness of the Lord, and was no stranger 
 to the sinful perverseness of our nature, says. There is mercy with 
 thee, therefore shalt thou be feared : Psal. cxxx. 4. — words full to 
 my purpose, which at once add the highest authority to this senti- 
 ment, and direct our minds to its proper influence and due improve- 
 ment. 
 
 u2 
 
292 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 Scriptures, the Scriptures of eternal truth have said it, 
 (exult my soul in the belief of it !) that the blood on which 
 we rely is God's own blood ;* and therefore all-sufficient to 
 expiate, omnipotent to save. 
 
 David, that egregious sinner, but more exemplary saint, 
 seems to have been well acquainted with this comfortable 
 truth. What else can be the import of that very remark- 
 able but most devout declaration. Thou shall purge me\ 
 vnth hyssop, and I shall he clean ; thou shalt wash me, and 
 I shall be whiter than snow. — ^'\ have been guilty, I must 
 confess, of the most complicated and shocking crimes; 
 crimes, inflamed by every aggravating circumstance, with 
 regard to myself, my neighbour, and my God : myself, who 
 have been blessed above men, and the distinguished fa- 
 vourite of Providence ; my neighbour, who, in the most 
 dear and tender interests, has been irreparably injured 3 
 my God, who might justly expect the most grateful returns 
 of duty, instead of such enormous violations of his law. 
 Yet, all horrid and execrable as my offence is, it is nothing 
 to the superabundant merit of that great Redeemer, who 
 was promised from the foundation of the world ; in whom 
 all my fathers trusted ; who is the hope of all the ends of 
 the earth. Though my conscience be more loathsome with 
 adulterous impurity than the dunghill -, though treachery 
 and murder have rendered it even black as the gloom of 
 hell', yet, washed in the *^ fountain opened for sin and for 
 uncleanness,'J I shall be, I say not pure only — this were 
 a disparagement to the efficacy of my Saviour's death; 
 
 * Acts, XX. 28. 
 
 f Psal. li. 7. Thou shalt purge. I prefer this translation before 
 the new one ; because this speaks the language of a more steadfast 
 belief, and gives the highest honour to the divine goodness. Were 
 the words intended to bear no more than the common petitionary 
 sense, and not to be expressive of a noble plerophory of faith, they 
 would rather have been Ofei^tDn and 0023 imperatives, not futures. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 293 
 
 but I shall be fair as the lUyy and white as the snoiv. 
 Nay, let me not derogate from the glorious object of my 
 confidence j cleansed by this sovereign sanctifying stream, 
 I shall be fairer than the full-blown lily, whiter than the 
 fiew-fallen snows." 
 
 Power, saith the Scripture, belongeth unto God.* And 
 in what majestic lines is this attribute of Jehovah written, 
 throughout the whole volume of the creation ? especially 
 through those magnificent pages, unfolded in yonder starry 
 regions j which are therefore styled, by the sweet and se- 
 raphic singer of Israel, '^'^the firmament of his power 3"f 
 because the grand ejvpioits of Omnijyotence are there dis- 
 played with the utmost j^omp, and recorded in the most 
 legible characters. 
 
 Who, that looks upward to the midnight sky, and, with 
 an eye of reason, beholds its rolling wonders j who can 
 forbear inquiring. Of what were those mighty orbs formed ? 
 Amazing to relate ! they were produced without materials -, 
 they sprang from emptiness itself: the stately fabric of 
 universal nature emerged out of nothing] What histru- 
 ments were used by the Supreme Architect, to fashion the 
 parts with such exquisite niceness, and give so beautiful 
 a polish to the whole ? How was all connected into one 
 finely-proportioned and nobly-finished structure? A bare 
 fiat accomplished all. " Let them be," said God. He 
 added no more 5 and immediately the marvellous edifice 
 arose, adorned with every beauty, displaying innumerable 
 perfections, and declaring, amidst enraptured seraphs, its 
 great Creator's praise, "'Qy the ivord of the Lord were 
 the heavens made, and all the host of them by the breath 
 of his mouth." J What forceful machinery ^c^ec? some of 
 
 * Psal. Ixii. 11. f Psal. cl. 1. 
 
 ♦ If this thought is admitted a second time, and suffered to ennoble 
 the next paragraph ; it is partly because of its unequalled sublimity: 
 partly, because it awakens the most grand idea of creating power ; 
 
294 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 those ponderous globes on an immoveable basis ? MTiat 
 irresistible impulse howled others through the circuit of 
 the heavens ? What coercive energy confined their im- 
 petuous courses within limits astonishingly large^ yet most 
 minutely true ? Nothing but his sovereign tviU ! For all 
 things were at first constituted, and all to this day abide, 
 *^'^ according to his ordinance." 
 
 Without any toilsome assiduity, or laborious process, to 
 raise, to touchy to speak such a multitude of immense 
 bodies into being 3 to launch them through the spaces of 
 the sky, as an arrow from the hand of a giant ; to impress 
 on such tmwieldy masses a motion far outstripping the 
 swiftness of the winged creation, * and to continue them in 
 the same rapid Avhirl for thousands and thousands of 
 years — What an amazing instance of infinite might is 
 this ! - Can any thing be impossible to the Lord, the Lord 
 
 and {tartly, because the practice of the Psalmist^ an authority too 
 great to be controverted, is my precedent. The beautiful stanza 
 quoted from Psal. xxxiii. 6. is a proof how thoroughly the royal poet 
 entered into the majesty of the Mosaic narration. The repetition of 
 the sentiment, ver. 9. intimates how peculiarly he was charmed with 
 that noble manner of describing the divine operations ; while the turn 
 of his own composition shows how perfectly he possessed the same 
 elevated icay of thinking ; and this long before Longinus wrote the 
 celebrated treatise, wliich has taught the heathen, as well as the 
 Christian world, to admire the dignity of the Jewish legislator's style. 
 Vid. LoNGiN. de Sublim. Sect. ix. ira-.ttti; 
 
 * To give one instance of this remark. The earth, in the diurnal 
 revolution which it performs on its OAvn axis, whirls about at the rate 
 of about a thousand miles an hour. And as the great orbit, which it 
 describes annually round the sun, is reckoned at 540 millions of 
 miles, it must travel near a million and a half each day. What a 
 force must be requisite to protrude so vast a globe, and wheel it on, 
 loaded as it is with huge mountains and ponderous rocks, at such a 
 prodigious degree of rapidity ! It surpasses human conception 1 How 
 natural, how pertinent, how almost necessary, after such an ob- 
 servation, is the acknowledgment made by holy Job : I hnow that 
 thou canst do every thing ; and that no thought, no imaginable scheme, 
 can be withholden from theCy can lie beyond thy power to execute. 
 Cha{>. xlii. 2. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 295 
 
 God, the Creator and Controller of all the ends of the 
 earth, all the regions of the universe } Rather, is not all 
 that we count difficult, perfect ease to that glorious Being, 
 who only spake, and the world was made 3 * who only 
 gave command, and the stupendous axle was lodged fast, 
 the lofty wheels moved complete } What a sure defence, 
 O my soul, is this everlasting strength of thy God ! Be 
 this thy continual refuge in the article of danger 5 this thy 
 never-failing resource in every time of need. 
 
 ^Vhat cannot this uncontrollable power of the great 
 Jehovah effect for his people ? Be their miseries ever so 
 galling, cannot this God relieve them ? Be their wants 
 ever so numerous, cannot this God supply them? Be 
 their corruptions w^ithin ever so inveterate, or their tempta- 
 tions without ever so importunate, cannot this mighty, 
 mighty God subdue the former, and fortify them against 
 the latter ? Should trials, with an incessant vehemence, 
 sift thee as wheat j should tribulation, with a weight of 
 woes, almost grind thee to powder j should pleasure, with 
 her bewitching smiles, solicit thee to delicious ruinj yet 
 " hold thee fast by God," and lay thy help upon him that 
 is omnipotent.! Thou canst not be involved in such ca- 
 
 * Psal. xxxiii. 9. 
 
 f It is a most charming description, as well as a most comfortable 
 promise, which we find in Isa. xl. 29, 30, 31. He giveth power to the 
 feeble; and to them that have no might at all he not only imparteth, 
 but ino'easeth strength, making it to abound where it did not so much 
 as exist. Without this aid of Jehovah, even the youths, amidst the 
 very prime of their \agour and activity, shall become languid in their 
 work, and weary in their course. And the young men, to whose 
 resolution and abilities nothing seemed impracticable, shall not only 
 not succeed, but utterly fall and miscarry in their various enterprises. 
 Whereas they that wait upon the Lord, and confide in his grace, shall 
 press on with a generous ardour from one degree of religious im- 
 provement to another. Instead of exhausting, they shall renew their 
 strength; difficulties shall animate, and toil invigorate them. They 
 shall mount up, as with soaring icings, above all opposition • they 
 shall be carried through every discouragement, as eagles cleave the 
 yielding air ; they shall run with speed and alacrity the way of God's 
 
296 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 lamitous circumstances, or exposed to such imminent peril j 
 but thy Godj whom thou servest, is able to deliver thee 
 from the one^, and to support thee under the other. To 
 support I to deliver ! Let me not dishonour the unlimited 
 greatness of his power. He is able to exalt thee, from 
 the deepest distress, to the most triumphant joy ; and to 
 make even a complication of evils work together for thy 
 everlasting good. He is able, not only to accomplish what 
 I have been speaking, but to do ea^ceeding abundantly above 
 all that we can ask or think.'*' 
 
 commandments, and not he weary ; they shall hold on (i3^> progredi- 
 entur, carpent iter) with constancy and perseverance, in those peace- 
 ful paths, and not faint ; but arrive at the end of their progress, and 
 receive the prize of their high calling. 
 
 To this most cheering doctrine permit me to add its no less 
 beautiful and delightful contrast. Eliphaz, speaking of the enemies 
 of the righteous, says : UC'p ^^TDJ V^, which is rendered by a great 
 critic in sacred learning, Nihil excisum f actio nobis adversaria. We 
 should reckon our language acquitted itself tolerably well, if, when 
 depreciating the abilities of an adversary, it should represent him 
 weak as the scorched thread, feeble as the dissolving smoke. But 
 these are cold forms of speech, compared with the eloquence of 
 the East. According to the genius of our Bible, all the power that 
 opposes the godly, is a mere nothing ; or, to speak with a more 
 emphatical air of contempt, a destroyed^ an extirpated nothing. Ad- 
 mire this expression, ye that are charmed with daring images, and 
 (what Tully calls verhum ardens) a spirited and glovnng diction. 
 Remember this declaration, ye that fight the good fight of faith. 
 The united force of all your enemies, be it ever so formidable to the 
 eye of flesh, is, before your Almighty Guardian, nihil nihilissimum, 
 not only nothing, but less than nothing , and vanity. — Job, xxii. 20. 
 
 * I should, in this place, avoid swelling the notes any farther, was 
 it not to take notice of the inimitable passage quoted above, and to 
 be found Eph. iii. 20 ; which, if I do not greatly mistake, is the 
 most complete representation of divine power that it is possible for 
 words to frame. To do all that our tongue can ask, is a miracle 
 of might. But we often think more than we can express, and are 
 actuated with groanings unutterable. Yet, to answer these vast de- 
 sires, is not beyond the accomplishment of our heavenly Father. 
 Nay, to make his gifts and his blessings commensurate to the largest 
 stretch of human expectations, is a small thing with the God of 
 glory. He is able to do above all that the most enlarged apprehen- 
 sion can imagine ; yea, to do abundantly more, exceeding abundantly 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 297 
 
 O ! the wretched condition of the wicked, who have 
 this Lord of all power for their enemy ! O ! the desperate 
 madness of the ungodly, who provoke the Almighty to 
 jealousy ! Besotted creatures ! are you able to contend 
 with your Maker, and enter the lists against incensed 
 Omnipotence ? Can you bear the fierceness of his wrath, 
 or sustain the vengeance of his lifted arm ? At his pre- 
 sence, though awfully serene, the hills melt like wax, and 
 the " mountains skip like frighted lambs." At the least 
 intimation of his displeasure, the foundations of nature 
 rock, and the '' pillars of heaven tremble." How then 
 can a withered leaf endure, when '' his lips are full of 
 indignation, and his tongue as a devouring fire ?" Or 
 can any thing screen a guilty worm, when the great and 
 terrible God shall irhet his glittering sword, and his hand 
 take hold on inexorable judgment ? When that hand, 
 which shoots the planets, masses of excessive bulk,* with 
 such surprising rapidity through the sky j that hand, which 
 darts the comets to such unmeasurable distances, beyond 
 the orbit of our remotest planet, beyond the pursuit of 
 the strongest eye : when that hand is stretched out to 
 punish, can the munition of rocks, the intervention of 
 seas, or even interposing worlds, divert the blow ? Con- 
 sider this. Ambition, and bow thy haughty crest. Con- 
 sider this. Disobedience, and bend thy iron sinew. O ! 
 consider this, all ye that forget or affront the tremendous 
 
 more, than the mind itself, in the utmost exertion of all its faculties, 
 is capable of xcishing, or knows hoAV to conceive. 
 
 * One of the planets {Saturn) is supposed to be more than ninety 
 times as big as the globe on which we live. According to the same 
 calculation, the largest of the planets [Jupiter) is above two hundred 
 times vaster than this vast collection of spacious forests, towering 
 mountains, extensive continents, and boundless oceans. Such enor- 
 mous magnitude, winged with such prodigious speed ! it raises as- 
 tonishment beyond expression— ^f^^Y/^ God is teriihle majesty I Job, 
 xxxvii. 22. Who shall not fear thee, Lord, and glorify thy name? 
 Rev. XV. 4. 
 
298 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 Jehovah. He can, by a single act of his will, lay the 
 universe in utter ruin ; and can he want power to bring 
 youy in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, to the dust 
 of death, or to the flames of hell ? He has, I say not, 
 ten thousand lightnings to scorch you to ashes ; ten thou- 
 sand thunders to crush you into atoms j but, what is 
 unspeakably more dreadful, he has an army of terrors, 
 even in the look of his angry countenance. His very 
 frown is worse than destruction. 
 
 I cannot dismiss this subject without admiring the 
 patience of the blessed God j who, though so strong and 
 powerful, yet " is provoked every day." Surely, as is 
 his majesty, so is his mercy; his pity altogether com- 
 mensurate to his power. If I vilify but the name of an 
 earthly monarch, I lose my liberty, and am confined to 
 the dungeon. If I appear in arms, and draw the sword 
 against my national sovereign, my life is forfeited, and 
 my very blood will scarce atone for the crime. But thee 
 I have dishonoured, O ! thou King immortal and invisible ! 
 Against thee my breast has fomented secret disaffection; 
 my behaviour has risen up in open rebellion; and yet I 
 am spared, yet I am preserved. Instead of being banished 
 from thy presence, I sit at thy table, and am fed from 
 thy hand. Instead of pursuing me with thunder-bolts of 
 vengeance, thy favours surround me on every side. That 
 arm, that injured arm, which might justly fall, with irre- 
 trievable ruin, on a traitor's head, is most graciously 
 stretched out to caress him with the tenderest endear- 
 ments, to cherish him with every instance of parental 
 kindness. O ! thou mightiest, thou best of Beings, how 
 am I pained at my very soul for such shameful and odious 
 disingenuity ! Let me always abominate myself as the 
 basest of creatures, but adore that unwearied long-suffer- 
 ing of thine, w:hich refuses to be irritated -, love that un- 
 remitted goodness, which no acts of ingratitude could stop, 
 or so much as check, in its gracious current. O! let 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 299 
 
 this stubborn heart, which duty could not bind, which 
 threatenings could not awe, be the captive, the loilUn^ 
 captive, of such triumphant beneficence. 
 
 I have often been struck ^vith wonder at that Almighty 
 skill, which tceighed the mountains in scales, and the 
 hills in a balance ; which proportioned the waters in the 
 hollow of its hand, and adjusted the dust of the earth by 
 a measure.* But how much more marvellous is that 
 magnificent economy which poised the stars with inex- 
 pressible nicety, and meted out the heavens with a span ! 
 where all is prodigiously vast, immensely various, and 
 yet more than mathematically exact. Surely the ivisdom 
 of God manifests itself in the skies, and shines in those 
 lucid orbs j shines on the contemplative mind, with a 
 lustre incomparably brighter than that which their united 
 splendours transmit to the eye. 
 
 Behold yonder countless multitude of globes -, consider 
 their amazing magnitude ; regard them as the sovereigns 
 of so many systems, each accompanied with his planetary 
 equipage. Upon this supposition, what a multiplicitv of 
 mighty spheres must be perpetually running their rounds 
 in the upper regions ! yet none mistake their way, or 
 
 * Isa. xl. 12. The dust of the earth, in this sublime Scripture, 
 signifies the dry land, or solid part of our globe; which is placed 
 in contra-distinction to the whole collection oi JJuid matter, men- 
 tioned in the preceding clause. Perhaps, this remarkable expression 
 may be intended to intimate, not only the extreme niceness which 
 stated the dimensions of the world in general, or in the gross • but 
 also that particular exactness, with wliich the very smallest materials 
 that constitute its frame, (not excepting each individual atom,) were 
 calculated and disposed. — q. d. 'Tis a small thing to say, no such 
 enormous redundancies, as unnecessary ridges of mountains, were 
 suffered to subsist. There was not so much as the least grain of 
 sand superfluous, or a single particle of dust deficient. As the grand 
 aim of the description is, to celebrate the consummate wisdom ex- 
 emplified in the creation, and to display that perfect proportion with 
 which eveiy part tallies, coincides, and haimonizes with the whole, 
 I have taken leave to alter the word of our English translation com- 
 prehend, and introduce in its stead a term equally faithful to the 
 HibreWy and more significative of the prophet's precise idea. 
 
300 CONTEMPLATION* 
 
 wander from the goal^ though they pass through trackless ■ 
 and unbounded fields. None fly off from their orbits 
 into extravagant excursions 5 none press in upon their 
 centre with too near an approach. None interfere with 
 each other in their perennial passage, or intercept the 
 kindly communications of another's influence j"^ but all 
 their rotations proceed in eternal harmony, keeping such 
 time, and observing such laws, as are most exquisitely 
 adapted to the perfection of the whole. 
 
 While I contemplate this " excellent wisdom which 
 made the heavens," and attunes all their motions, how 
 am I abashed at that mixtui'e of arrogance and folly, 
 which has at any time inclined me to murmur at thy 
 dispensations, O Lord ! What is this, but a sort of im- 
 plicit treason against thy supremacy, and a tacit denial 
 of thy infinite understanding ? Hast thou so regularly 
 placed such a wonderful diversity of systems through the 
 spaces of the universe? Didst thou, without any pro- 
 bationary essays, without any improving re-touches, speak 
 them into the most consummate perfection ? Dost thou 
 continually superintend all their circumstances with a 
 sagacity that never mistakes the minutest tittle of pro- 
 priety ? And shall I be so unaccountably stupid as to 
 question the justness of thy discernment, in " choosing my 
 inheritance, and fixing the bounds of my habitation ?" 
 Not a single erratum in modelling the structure, determin- 
 ing the distance, f and conducting the career of unnumbered 
 worlds ! and shall my peevish humour presume to censure 
 
 * The interception of light, by means of an eclipse, happens very 
 rarely ; and then it is of so short a continuance, as not to be at aU 
 inconvenient : nay, it is attended with such circumstances ^ as render 
 it rather useful than prejudicial. 
 
 f The sun in particular, (and let this serve as a specimen of that 
 most curious exactness with which the other celestial bodies are 
 constituted, and all their circumstances regulated,) the sun is formed 
 of such a determinate magnitude, and placed at such a convenient 
 distance, " as not to annoy, but only refresh us, and nourish the 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 301 
 
 thy interposition with regard to the affairs of one incon- 
 siderable creature, whose stature, in such a comparative 
 view, is less than a span, and his present duration little 
 more than a moment ? 
 
 O! thou God, *^in whose hand my breath is, and 
 whose are all my ways," let such sentiments as no\T 
 possess my thoughts be always lively on my heart ! These 
 shall compose my mind into a cheerful acquiescence and 
 a thankful submission, even when afflictions gall the sense, 
 or disappointments break my schemes. Then shall I, like 
 the grateful patriarch,* in all the changes of my condition, 
 and even in the depths of distress, erect an altar of adoring 
 resignation, and inscribe it with the apostle's motto, '^ To 
 God only wise." Then shouldst thou give me leave to 
 be the carver of my own fortunes, I would humbly desire 
 to relinquish the grant, and recommit the disposal of my- 
 self to thy unerring beneficence j fully persuaded that thy 
 counsels, though contrary to my froward inclinations, or 
 even afflictive to my flesh, are incomparably more eligible 
 than the blind impulse of my own will, however soothing 
 to animal nature. 
 
 On a careless inspection, you perceive no accuracy or 
 uniformity in the position of the heavenly bodies. They 
 appear like an illustrious chaos, a promiscuous heap of 
 shining globes j neither ranked in order, nor moving by 
 line. But what seems confusion is all regularity j what 
 carries a show of negligence, is really the result of the 
 most masterly contrivance. You think, perhaps, they rove 
 in their aerial flight j but they rove by the nicest rule 
 and without the least error. Their circuits, though seem- 
 ingly devious 5 their mazes, though intricate to our appre- 
 
 ground with its kindly warmth. If it was larger, it would set the 
 earth on fire ; if smaller^ it would leave it frozen ; if it was nearer 
 us, we should be scorched to death ; \i farther from us, we should not 
 be able to live for want of heat." — Stackhouse's History of the Bible. 
 * See Gen* xii. 7, 8. 
 
302 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 hensions 5* are marked out^ not indeed with golden com- 
 passes, but by the infinitely more exact determinations of 
 the all-wise Spirit. 
 
 So, what wears the appearance of calamity in the allot- 
 ments appointed for the godly, has really the nature of a 
 blessing. It issues from a fatherly love, and will terminate 
 in the richest good. If Joseph is snatched from the em- 
 braces of an indulgent parent, and abandoned to slavery 
 in a foreign land j it is in order to save the holy family 
 from perishing by famine, and to preserve '* the seed, 
 in whom all the nations of the earth should be blessed." 
 If he falls into the deepest disgrace, it is on purpose that 
 he may rise to the highest honours. Even the confine- 
 ment of the prison, by the unsearchable workings of 
 Providence, opens his way to the right hand of the throne 
 itself. Let the most afflicted servant of Jesus wait the 
 final upshot of things. He will then discover the apparent 
 expediency of all those tribulations, which woe«;, perhaps, 
 he can hardly admit without reluctance, or suffer without 
 some struggles of dissatisfaction. Then the gushing tear 
 and the heaving sigh will be turned into tides of gratitude 
 and hymns of holy wonder. imnrntz 
 
 In the mean time^ let no audacious railer presump- 
 tuously impeach the divine procedure j but, adoring where 
 Ave cannot comprehend, let us expect the evolution of the 
 mysterious plan. Then shall every eye perceive, that the 
 seeming labyrinths of Providence were the most direct and 
 compendious way to effect his general purposes of grace, 
 and to bring about each one's particular happiness. f Then, 
 
 * Mazes intricate, 
 
 Eccentric, inteiTolved ; yet regular 
 
 Then most, when most irregular they seem. — Milton. 
 
 -Y Tlie moral world. 
 
 Which, though to us it seems emhroil'd, moves on 
 
 In higher order ; fitted and impell'd 
 
 By wisdwn's finest hand, and issuing all 
 
 In geu'ral good. — Thomson's Winter, 1. 586. 
 
ox THE STARRY HEAVENS. 303 
 
 also, shall it be clearly shown, in the presence of applaud- 
 ing worlds, why virtue pined in want, while vice rioted 
 in affluence j why amiable innocence so often dragged 
 the dungeon chain, while horrid guilt trailed the robe of 
 state. That day of universal audita that day of everlasting 
 retribution, will not only vhidicate but magnify the whole 
 management of Heaven. The august sessions shall close 
 with this unanimous, this glorious acknowledgment : 
 *' Though clouds and darkness, impenetrable by any hu- 
 man scrutiny, were sometimes round about the Supreme 
 Conductor of things ; yet righteousness and judgment were 
 the constant habitation of his seat,"^ the invariable standard 
 of all his administrations." Thus (if I may illustrate the 
 grandest truths by inferior occurrences) while we view 
 the arras on the side of least distinction, it is void of any 
 elegant fancy, without any nice strokes of art, nothing 
 but a confused jumble of incoherent threads. No sooner 
 is the piece beheld in its proper aspect, but the suspected 
 rudeness vanishes, and the most curious arrangement takes 
 place. We are charmed with designs of the finest taste, 
 and figures of the most graceful form : all is shaped with 
 symmetry, all is clad in beauty. 
 
 The goodness of God is most eminently displayed in the 
 skies. Could we take an understanding survey of what- 
 ever is formed by the Divine Architect, throughout the 
 whole extent of material things^ our minds would be trans- 
 ported with their excellencies, and our tongues echo back 
 that great encomium. They are '^ good, very good :"f most 
 beautiful X in themselves 3 contrived by unerring wisdom, 
 and executed with inimitable skill ; most useful X in their 
 
 * Psal. xcvii. 2. f Gen. i. 31. 
 
 + ♦ This KaXox«ya0/a of the Universe, and all its parts, has been very 
 highly and very justly extolled by the ancient inquirers into nature ; 
 and was, indeed, an illustrious scene, spread before the sages of 
 the heathen world, wherein to contemplate the goodness and the 
 glories of the Supreme Being, It was nobly said by a Pagaa 
 
304 CONTEMPLAl'IONS 
 
 functions ; exactly fitting the places they fill, and com- 
 pletely answering the purposes for which they were in- 
 tended ! All the parts of the inanimate creation proclaim, 
 both by their intrinsic and relative excellencies, the all- 
 diffusive beneficence of their Maker. 
 
 How much more wonderful are the displays of divine 
 indulgence in the worlds of life ! Because dead matter 
 is incapable of delight, therefore the gracious Creator has 
 raised innumerable ranks of perceptive CcVistence ; such 
 as are qualified to taste his bounty, and enjoy each a 
 happiness suited to its peculiar state. With this view, 
 he furnished the regions of inferior nature with an order 
 and a series of sensitive beings. The tvaters teem with 
 shoals of finny inhabitants : the dry land swarms with 
 animals of every order : the dwellings of the firmament 
 are occupied by multitudes of winged people : not so much 
 as a green leaf, philosophers say, but lodges and accommo- 
 dates its puny animalcule tenants.* And wherefore this 
 
 philosopher on this occasion : 'Etg sfWTOi. jusTCioKyi9-/ivo(i tov Qeov fxeXKavra 
 OYifAiovpyeiv — that God, when he undertook the tvork of creation, tram- 
 formed himself into love. But he need not transform himself into this 
 amiable principle ; for " God is love," as was much more nobly 
 said by one, whom that philosopher would have termed a barbarian. — 
 1 John, iv. 8. 
 
 * A very celebrated poet, in a beautiful paragraph on this subject, 
 informs his readers, that all nature swarms with life. In subter- 
 ranean cells, the eaith heaves with vital motion : even the hard stone, 
 in the very inmost recesses of its impenetrable citadel, holds multi- 
 tudes of animated inhabitants. The pulp of mellow fruit, and all 
 the productions of the orchard, feed the invisible nations. Each 
 liquid, whether of acid taste or milder relish, abounds with various 
 forms of sensitive existence. Nor is the pure stream, or transparent 
 air, without their colonies of unseen people. In which constitution 
 of things, we have a wonderful instance, not only of the divine good- 
 ness to those minute beings, in giving them a capacity for animal 
 gratifications, but of his tender care for mankind in making them im- 
 perceptible to our senses. 
 
 These, conceal'd 
 
 By the kind art of forming Heav'n, escape 
 The grosser eye ef man : for, if the worlds 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 305 
 
 diversity, this profusion of living creatures, flying the air, 
 treading the ground, and gliding through the paths of the 
 sea? For this most glorious reason,— that the eternal 
 Sovereign may exercise his superabundant goodness -, that 
 his table may be furnished with millions and millions of 
 guests ; that he may fill every hour, every moment, their 
 mouths with food, or their hearts with gladness. 
 
 But what a small theatre are three or four elements 
 for the operations of Jehovah's bounty ! His magnificent 
 liberality scorns such scanty limits. If you ask, where- 
 fore has he created all worlds, and replenished them with 
 an unknown multiplicity of beings, rising one above an- 
 other in an endless gradation of still richer endowments 
 and still nobler capacities? The answer is, — for the 
 manifestation of his own glory, and especially for the com- 
 municat'ion of his inexhaustible beneficence.* The great 
 Creator could propose no advantage to himself j his bliss 
 is incapable of any addition. " Before the mountains 
 were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were 
 made," he was supremely happy in his own independent 
 and all-sufiicient self. His grand design, therefore^ in 
 erecting so many stately fabrics, and peopling them with 
 so many tribes of inhabitants, was to transfuse his ex- 
 uberant kindness, and impart felicity in all its forms. Ten 
 
 In worlds enclosed should on his senses burst, 
 From cates ambrosial and the nectar'd bowl 
 He'd turn abhorrent ; and in dead of night. 
 When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunn'd with noise. 
 
 Thomson's Summer. 
 
 * A sacred writer, considering this delightful subject, and confining 
 his observation within the narroio limits of his own country, cries 
 out, with a mixture of amazement and gratitude, Hotv great is his 
 goodness, and how great is his beatify I Wlio then can forbear being 
 lost in wonder, and transported with delight, when he extends his 
 survey to those infinitely more copious communications of divine 
 bounty, which, like salutary and refreshing streams, run through 
 all worlds, and make, not only tiie little valleys of a single kingdom,, 
 but the immensity of creation, laugh and sing ? — Zech. ix. 17. 
 
 X 
 
306 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 thousand warlds^ stocked with ten thousand times ten 
 thousand ranks of sensitive and intelligent existence^ are 
 so many spacious gardens, which, with rivers of commu- 
 nicated joy, this ever-flowing fountain waters continually. 
 
 Boundless,* and (which raises our idea of this divine 
 principle to the very highest degree of perfection) disin- 
 terested* munificence! How inexpressibly amiahle \% the 
 blessed God, considered in this charming light ! Is it 
 possible to conceive any excellence so adorable and lovely, 
 as infinite benevolence, guided by unerring wisdom, and 
 exerting almighty power, on purpose to make a whole 
 universe happy ! O my soul, what an irresistible attractive 
 is here ! WTiat a most worthy object for thy most fervent 
 affection ! Shall now every glittering toy become a rival 
 to this transcendently beneficent Being, and rob him of thy 
 heart ? No. Let his all-creating arm teach thee to trust 
 in the fulness of his sufficiency 3 let his all- superintending 
 eye incline thee to acquiesce in the dispensations of his 
 providence ; and let his bounty, so freely vouchsafed, so 
 amply diffused, induce thee to love him with all the ardour 
 of a grateful and admiring soul 3 induce thee to serve him, 
 not with a joyless awe, or slavish dread, but with unfeigned 
 alacrity, and a delightful complacency. 
 
 If the goodness of God is so admirably seen in the works 
 of nature, and the favours of providence 3 with what a 
 noble superiority does it even triumph, in the mystery of 
 redemption .'f Redemption is the brightest mirror, in 
 
 * * In this sense, There is none good but one, that is God : none 
 universally and essentially good : none, whose goodness extends it- 
 self in an infinite variety of blessings to ever?/ capable object ; or, who 
 always dispenses his favours, from the soie principle of free and dis- 
 interested benevolence. 
 •f* In this, and in other parts of the Contemplations, the reader 
 will observe, that the attributes of the Deity are represented as 
 shining with more distinguished lustre in the wonders of redemption, 
 than in the works of creation. If such remarks should seem to be 
 unprecedented, or to stand in need of a vindication, permit me to 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 307 
 
 which to contemplate this most lovely attribute of the 
 Deity. Other gifts are only as 7mtes from the divine 
 treasury ; but redemption opens, 1 had almost said ex- 
 hausts, all the stores of indulgence and grace. Herein^ 
 '^ God commendeth his love:"^ not only manifests, but 
 sets it off, as it were, with every bright and grand em- 
 bellishment J manifests it in so stupendous a manner, that 
 it is beyond parallel, beyond thought, "■ above all blessing 
 and praise." Was he not thy Son, everlasting God, thy 
 only Son , the Son of thy bosom from eternal ages ; the 
 highest object of thy complacential delight? Was not 
 thy love to this adorable Son incomparably greater than 
 the tenderest affection of any, or the united affections of 
 all, mortal parents ? Was not the blessed Jesus more 
 illustrious in excellency than all angels j more exalted in 
 dignity than all heavens? Yet didst thou resign him for 
 poor mortals 5 for vile sinners ! Couldst thou see him 
 descend from his royal throne, and take up his abode in 
 the sordid stable ? See him forego the homage of the 
 seraphim, and stand exposed to the reproachful indignities 
 of an insolent rabble ? See him arraigned at the bar, 
 and sentenced to death 3 numbered with malefactors, and 
 nailed to the gibbet ; bathed in his own innocent blood, 
 and pouring out his soid in agonies of sorrow ? Could the 
 Father, the Father himself, with unknown philanthrGpy,f 
 say^ '' It shall, it shall be so ! My pity to rebeilious man 
 
 subjoin the sentiments of a great critic, equally versed in both tliose 
 sublime tlieories. " In a perfect orator," he says, " Tully requires 
 some skill in the nature of heavenly bodies ; because his mind will 
 become more extensive and unconfined ; and, when he descends to 
 treat of human affairs, he will both think and write in a more 
 exalted and magnificent manner. For the same reason, that excellent 
 master would have recommended the study of those great and glorious 
 mysteries, which revelation has discovered to us ; to which the noblest 
 parts of this system of the tvorld are as much inferior^ as the creature 
 is less excellent than the Creator." — Sped. vol. viii. N^ 633., j. ^j., , 
 * Rom. v, 8. ':.rr.> '■? ^itofy ♦Jdt ai ml^--) 
 
 t P/<i/c»?/M-6>/>^, that is, loving-kindness to ftiAii. "'i si^3Jii?bS9»iq0r 
 
 V 9 
 
30S CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 pleads, and prevails. Awake, therefore, O sword,'^ edged 
 with divine wrath. Awake, and be sheathed in that imma" 
 cu I ate' hresist ; pierce that dearly beloved heart. I am 
 content, that my Son endure the sharpness of death, rather 
 than sinful mortals perish for ever." Incomprehensible 
 love ! May it henceforward be the favourite subject of my 
 meditation ; more delightful to my musing mind than ap- 
 plause to the ambitious ear ! May it be the darling theme 
 of my discourse ; svv'eeter to my tongue than the droppings 
 of the honeycomb to my taste ! May it be my choicest 
 comfort through all the changes of life ^ and my reviving 
 cordial J even in the last extremities of dissolution itself ! 
 
 A prophet, contemplating with a distant survey this 
 unexampled instance of Almighty love, is rapt into a 
 transport of devotion. At a loss for proper acknowledg- 
 ments, he calls upon the whole universe to aid his labour- 
 ing breast, and supply his lack of praise. Sing melodiously, 
 ye vaulted heavens ; exidt, and even leap for gladness, thou 
 cumbrous earth -^ ye mountains, break your long silence, 
 and bui'St into peals of loudest acclamation ; f for the 
 Lord, by this precious gift, and this great salvation, hath 
 comforted his people. A sacred historian hath left it upon 
 record, that, at the first exhibition of this ravishing scene, 
 there was with the angel, who brought the blessed tidings, 
 a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and making 
 
 * Zech. xiii. 7, 
 
 f 7*0!. xlix. 13. — I have not adhered to our common translation, 
 but endeavoured to preserve, somewhat more faithfully, the noble 
 pathos and inimitable energy of the sacred original. The love of God, 
 manifested in a divine and dying Sa^-iour, is a blessing of such incon- 
 ceivable richness, as must render all acknowledgments flat, and all 
 encomiums languid. Yet, 1 think, the most poetical and most em- 
 phatical celebration of that unspeakable instance of goodness is con- 
 tained in this rapturous exclamation of the prophet, which intimates, 
 wath a wonderful majesty of sentiment, that even the whole compass 
 of the inanimate creation, could it be sensible of the benefit, and 
 capable of delight, would express its gratitude in all these demonstra- 
 tions of the most lively and exuberant joy. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 309 
 
 the concave of the skies resound with their hallelujahs. 
 At the dawn of the Sun of Righteousness, when he was 
 beginning to rise with healing in his wings, the 7norning 
 stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for 
 joy. And shall man, whom this gracious dispensation 
 principally respects j shall man, who is the centre of all 
 these gladdening rays ; shall he have no heart to adore, no 
 anthem to celebrate, this 
 
 Love without end, and without measure grace ? 
 
 Milton. 
 
 How pure is the state of the sky, and how clear its 
 aspect ! clearer than the limpid stream ; purer than the 
 transparent crystal ; and more curiously fine than the po- 
 lished min'or. That stately ceiling, fretted with gold, and 
 stretched to an extent of many millions of leagues, is not 
 disfigured with a single flaw. Tliat azure canopy, em- 
 broidered with stars, and spacious enough to form a co- 
 vering for unnumbered worlds, is without the least spot or 
 wrinkle. Yet this, even this, will scarce yield us so much 
 as a faint representation of the divine purity. God is a 
 God of matchless and transcendent excellency ; his ways 
 are uprightness itself 3 his counsels and words are the very 
 sanctity of wisdom and of truth. The laws which he has 
 given to universal nature, are exquisitely contrived, and 
 beyond all possibility of improvement. The precepts which 
 he has appointed for the human race, are a complete sum- 
 mary of all that is honourable in itself, and perfective of 
 the rational mind. Not the least oversight, in planning a 
 series of events for all futurity 3 not the least mal-admi- 
 nistration in managing the afi'airs of every age since time 
 began, and of every nation under the whole heavens. 
 Pardon these disparaging expressions. A negative perfec- 
 tion is far^ far beneath thy dignity, thou most Highest. * 
 
 * thou most Highest. — This expression occurs more than once 
 in the Psalms used by the established church. It is, I think, one of 
 
310 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 In all these instances, in all thy acts, and all thy attributes, 
 thou art not only holy, but glorious in holiness. 
 
 So inconceivably holy is the Lord God of Hosts, that he 
 sees defilement even in the brightness of the firmament 3 
 the living sapphire of the heavens, before his majesty, loses 
 its lustre ; yea, the stars (though the most pure and re- 
 splendent part of the heavens) are not pure in his sight. 
 How much less man, who, in his fallen and depraved state, 
 is but as a worm that cravt^ls in the corrupted carcase j and 
 the son of man, ivho, by reason of his manifold actual im- 
 purities, is too justly compared to an insect, that wallows 
 amidst stench and putrefaction ? ^ Is there not then abun- 
 
 tliose beauties, which, because often exhibited, generally escape our 
 notice. It is a superlative, formed on a superlative ; and, though not 
 strictly conformable to grammatical rules, is nobly superior to them 
 all. The language seems to be sensible of its own deficiency, when 
 the incomprehensible Jehovah is addressed or celebrated : oppressed, 
 as it were, with the glories of the subject, it labours after a more 
 emphatical manner of diction than the ordinary forms of speech 
 aiford. It is, if I rightly judge, one ef those daring and happy pecn- 
 liarities of a masterly genius, which Mr. Pope so finely describes, and, 
 while he describes, exemplifies : 
 
 Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend. 
 And rise to faults true critics dare not mend ; 
 From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, . . s 
 And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art. ;,■ ^ .ivim 
 
 Essay on Criticism.' 
 
 - c 
 
 St.Paurs — eKxy^taTOTBpog TravTwv rwv ay;wi/-r-is a beautiful passage of 
 the like nature; which, our translators have very properly render- 
 ed, less than the least of all saints. His ttoKKw ^uKMv xpsicraov is 
 anothi. r ii-t:tance of the same kind. But here the English version 
 fails. Far better is extremely flaccid compared with the nervous 
 original ; and I greatly question, whether it is possible to translate 
 the ,:ientence with equal conciseness, and with equal spirit. — SeeEph. 
 iii. 8. PM. i. 23. 
 
 * Job, XXV. 5, 6. — I submit it to the judgment of the learned, 
 whether this is not the true meaning of the text. It may not, 
 perhaps, recommend itself to the squeamishly nice critic, or to those 
 persons who dream of, 1 know not what, dignity in our fallen nature. 
 But it seems, in preference to every other interpretation, suitable to 
 the sacred context; and is far from being injurious to the character of 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 311 
 
 dant cause for the most irreproachable and eminent of 
 mankind to renounce all arrogant pretensions, to lay aside 
 every assuming air, to take nothing but shame and confu- 
 sion to themselves ? A holy prophet, and a holy prince, 
 felt such humbling impressions, from a glimpse of the un- 
 created purity. / abhor myself in dust and ashes,'*' was the 
 declaration of the one : / am a man of unclean lips,-\ the 
 confession of the other. Should not this teach us all to 
 adore the divine mercies, for that precious purifying faun- 
 tam,X which was foretold from the foundation of the world, 
 but was opened at that awful juncture, when knotty whips 
 tore the flesh, when ragged thorns mangled the temples, 
 when sharpened nails cut fresh sluices for the crimson 
 current, when the gash of the spear completed the dreadful 
 work, and forthwith flowed there, from the wounded heart, 
 blood and ivater ? 
 
 Especially, since God himself saw no blemish in his dear 
 Son. He looketh to the moon, and it shineth not ; yet his 
 all-penetrating and jealous eye discerned nothing amiss, 
 
 that apostate race, which is "altogether become abominable," and 
 ** is as an unclean thing." On this supposition, there is not only'an 
 apparent, but a very striking contrast, between the purity of God and 
 the pollution of man ; the purity of the most high God, which out- 
 shines the moon and eclipses the stars ; the pollution of degenerate 
 man, which, exclusive of a Saviour, would render him as loathsome 
 to the all-seeing eye, as the %ilest vermin are in ours. Without 
 assigning this sense to the passage, I cannot discern the force of the 
 antithesis, nor indeed the propriety of the sentiment. Worms, in the 
 general, give us an idea of meanness and infirmity, not of defilement 
 and impurity ; unless they are insects, hatched amidst putrefaction, 
 and considered in such noisome circumstances. The two words of 
 the original, nm and nyV'D, are evidently used in this signification 
 by Moses and Isaiah: by the former, to denote the vermin which 
 devoured the putrefied manna ; by the latter, to express the reptiles 
 which swarm in the body that sees corruption, — Exod. xaI. Isa. 
 xiv. 11. 
 
 * Job, xlii. 6. f Isa. vi. 5. 
 
 ♦ In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house o/* David, 
 and to the inhabitants of Jevn&dilQjn, for sin and uncleanness. — Zech. 
 xiii. 1. 
 
S12 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 notliiiig defective, in our glorious Redeemer. Nothing 
 amiss ? He bore this most ilhistrious testimony concerning 
 iiis holy child Jesus : '' In him I am pleased ; I am well 
 pleased ; I acquiesce, with entire complacency, and with 
 the highest delight, in his person, his undertaking, and 
 the whole execution of his office." How should this 
 thought enliven our hopes, while the other mortifies our 
 pride ! Should not our hearts spring within us, and even 
 leap for joy^ at the repeated assurance given us by revela- 
 tion, that such a divinely excellent person is our Mediator ? 
 What apparent reason has every believer to adopt the 
 blessed Virgin's exclamation ! *' My soul doth magnify the 
 Lord for his transcendent mercy j and my spirit rejoices, 
 not in wide-extended harvests, waving over my fertile 
 glebe,* not in armies vanquished, and leaving the peculiar 
 treasure of nations for my spoil,- but in an infinitely richer, 
 nobler blessing, even in God my Saviour:'' that a person 
 so sublime and perfect has vouchsafed to become my 
 surety ; to give himself for my ransom, in the world below, 
 and act as my advocate in the royal presence above -, yea, 
 to make my recovery the reward of his sufferings j my final 
 felicity the honour of his mediatorial kingdom ! 
 
 When an innumerable multitude of bodies, f many of 
 them more than a hundred thousand miles in diameter, % are ^ 
 all set in motion j when the orbits, in which they perform 
 their periodical revolutions, are extended at the rate of 
 
 * * The inspired penmfin, from these two occasions of distinguished 
 joy, sets forth the incomparably greater delight which arises from the 
 gift of a Saviour, and the blessing of redemption. — Isa.xx.ver.'i. 
 compared with ver. 6. 
 
 f This refers not only to the planets which pass and repass about 
 our sun, but also to the other planetary worlds, which are supposed 
 to attend the several fixed stars. 
 
 + The diameter of Jupiter is calculated at 130,650 miles, while 
 
 his orbit is reckoned to consist of 895,134,000 ; which computation, 
 
 ^according to the maxims of astronomy, and the laws of proportion, 
 
 iHay,as is taken for granted in the Contemplations, be applied to 
 
 other planets revolving round other suns. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 313 
 
 several hundreds of millions ; when each has a distinct and 
 separate sphere for finishing his vast circuit j when no one 
 knows what it is to be cramped, but each most freely ex- 
 patiates in his unbounded career j when every one is placed 
 at such an immense remove from each other, that they 
 appear to their respective inhabitants only as so many 
 spots of light J how astonishing must be the expanse, which 
 yields room for all those mighty globes, and their widely- 
 diffused operations ! To what prodigious lengths did the 
 Almighty Builder stretch his line, when he marked out the 
 stupendous platform ! I wonder at such an immeasurable 
 extent j my very thoughts are lost in this abyss of space j 
 but, be it known to mortals, be it never forgot by sinners, 
 that, in all its most surprising amplitude, it is small, it is 
 scanty, compared with the bounty and the mercy of its 
 Maker. 
 
 His bounty is absolutely without limits, * and without 
 end. The most lav'ish generosity cannot exhaust or even 
 diminish his munificence. O ! all ye tribes of men 3 or 
 rather, all ye classes of intelligent creatures ; ye are not 
 straitened in the liberality of your ever-blessed Creator ^ 
 be not straitened in your own expectations . " Open your 
 mouth wide, and he shall fill it," with copious and con- 
 tinual draughts from the cup of joy. Your God, on whom 
 is your whole dependence, is more than able, is more than 
 willing, to " supply all your need according to his riches in 
 glory." When the Lord Jehoval^ is the giver, and his 
 
 * By bounty, I mean, not the actual exercise, or the sensible effects 
 of this excellency in the Deity : these are^ and always must be, through 
 the immense perfection of the attribute, and the necessary scantiness 
 of the recipient, bounded : but I would be understood as speaking of 
 the divine poicer, and the divine will, to exert divine beneficence. 
 These can have no real, no imaginable limits. These, after a profu- 
 sion of blessings, distributed to unnumbered worlds, continued through 
 unnumbered ages, must still have more to bestow, for ever have more 
 to bestow, infinitely more to bestow, than it is possible for creatioa 
 itself to receive. 
 
M4 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 grace * the gift j let your wishes be unbounded, and your 
 cravings insatiable. All that created beings can possibly 
 covet, is but a very small pittance of that unknown happi- 
 ness, which the everlasting Benefactor is ready to bestow. 
 Suppose every charitable disposition which warms the 
 hearts of the human race, added to those more enlarged 
 affections which glow in heavenly bosoms ; what were they 
 all, even in their highest exercise, compared with the 
 benignity of the Divine Nature ? Bless me, then, thou 
 Eternal Source of love ; bless all that reverence thy holy 
 name, according to thy own most profuse goodness ; whose 
 great prerogative it is, to disdain all measure. O ! bless 
 us, in proportion to that grace, the richness of which 
 (unutterable by the tongues of men, and of angels) was 
 once spoken in the groans, and written in the wounds, of 
 thy expiring Son ! 
 
 Spacious indeed are these heavens ! Where do they 
 begin ? Where do they end ? What is their extent ? 
 Can angels answer my question? Have angels travelled 
 the vast circuit ? Can angels measure the bounds of space ? 
 No 5 'tis boundless, 'tis unknown, 'tis amazing all. How 
 charming, then, to reflect, that the mercy of God is 
 ''greater than the heavens 3" is more extensive than the 
 dimensions of the sky. Transporting reflection ! Let me 
 indulge thee once more.f Let me think over the delight- 
 
 * 2 Cor. ix. 8. — God is ahVe to make all grace abound towards you, 
 that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, 7nay abound to 
 every good work. How beautiful and emphatical is this description ! 
 inferior to nothing, but that extent of ability, and those riches of 
 liberality, which it so eloquently celebrates. Does it not exhaust all 
 the powers of language, while it attempts to give us a specimen of the 
 munificence of the Lord ? 
 
 f Once more, refers to page 81 oi Reflections on a Flower-Garden. 
 The following pages, to the 319t.h, exhibit a digressive view of the 
 divine mercy. I thought it proper to apprise my reader of this ex- 
 cursion ; though, I hope, it will be needless to oifer an apology, for 
 enlarging upon a theme incomparably joyous. Who can complain of 
 tediousness, while I speak consolation to distressed, and recovery to 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 315 
 
 fill displays of this lovely attribute j and, while I admire 
 the trophies of forgiving goodness, add one to the number. 
 With what amiable and affecting colours is this represented 
 in the parable of the prodigal! Vi hat could induce that 
 foolish youth to forsake his father's house? Had he not 
 been tenderly cherished by the good parent, and loaded 
 with benefits from his induigent hand ? Were not the 
 restraints of parental government an easy yoke ; or rather, 
 a preservative from ruin ? Notwithstanding every endear- 
 ing obligation, he revolts from his duty, and launches into 
 such scandalous irregularities, as were dishonourable to 
 his family, and destructive to himself. V\ hen necessity, 
 not choice, but sharp necessity, drove him to a submissive 
 return ; does the injured father stand aloof, or shut his 
 doors ? Quite the reverse. He espies him while he is yet 
 a great way off, and the moment he beholds the profligate 
 youth, he has compassion on him; his bowels yearn ; tliey 
 " sound like an harp," touched with notes divinely soft. 
 He never once thinks of his ungracious departure and inv 
 famous debaucheries. Pity, parental pity, passes an act of 
 oblivion ; and, in one instant, cancels a series of long- 
 continued provocations. So strong are the workings of 
 fatherly affection, that he is almost impatient to embrace 
 the naked and destitute wretch. The son's pace is slow, 
 he arose and came ; the father's is swift, he sprang forth 
 (aged as he was) and ran. And is there a single frown in 
 his brow, or one upbraiding word on his tongue ? Instead 
 of loathing the sordid creature, or reproaching him for his 
 odious excesses, he falls on his neck, clasps him in his 
 arms, and hugs him to his bosom. Instead of disowning 
 
 ruhied creatures } The divine mercy is tlie sole fountain of all our 
 present and future blessings. In conformity to this benign attribute, 
 human hopes arise, and human felicity flows. Who, therefore, can 
 be weary of viewing and reviewing, when the lengths and breadths of 
 forgiving grace are the ravishing prospect .=* 
 
316 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 the riotous spendthrift, or re'jecting him for his undutiful 
 behaviour, he receives and welcomes him with kisses of 
 delight ', he rejoices at his return from extravagance and 
 T'ice, as he formerly rejoiced on the day of his nativity. 
 When this companion of harlots opens his mouth, before he 
 speaks, the father hears. He interrupts him in the midst 
 of his intended speech ; the overflowings of his compas- 
 sionate heart can brook no delay j he seems to be uneasy 
 himself, till he has made the afflicted penitent glad with 
 the assurance of his acceptance, and the choicest of his 
 favours 3 vrhile the poor abashed offender seeks nothing 
 more than not to be abhorred, he is thoroughly reconciled, 
 and honoured before the whole family j while he requests 
 no other indulgence than only to be treated as the meanest 
 servant, he is clothed with the best robe, he is feasted with 
 the fatted calf, he is caressed as the dearest of children, 
 Was there ever so bright and winning a picture of the 
 tenderest mercy, most freely vouchsafed, even to the most 
 unworthy of creatures ? Yet thus, my soul 3 and thus, my 
 fellow-sinner ; will the Lord God of everlasting compas- 
 sions receive us 3 if, sensible of our misery, and thirsting 
 for salvation, w^e turn to him through Jesus Christ. 
 
 Where sin has abounded, says the proclamation from the 
 court of heaven, grace doth much more abound. Manasseh 
 was a monster of barbarity, for he caused his own children 
 to pass through the fire, and filled Jerusalem with innocent 
 blood. Manasseh was an adept in iniquity 3 for he not 
 only multiplied, and to an extravagant degree, his own 
 sacrilegious impieties, but he poisoned the principles, and 
 perverted the manners, of his subjects, making them to do 
 tvorse than the most detestable of the heathen idolaters.* 
 Yet, through this superabundant grace, he is humbled, he 
 is reformed, and becomes a child of forgiving love, an heir 
 
 * See 2 Chron. xxxiii. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 317 
 
 of immortal glory. Behold that bitter and bloody perse- 
 cutor >S«e</ ; when, breathing oat threatenings,* and bent 
 upon slaughter, he worried the lambs, and put to death 
 the disciples of Jesus. Who, upon the principles of human 
 judgment, would not have pronounced him a vessel of 
 wrath, destined to unavoidable damnation 3 nay, would not 
 have been ready to conclude, that, if there were heavier 
 chains and a deeper dungeon in the world of wo, they 
 must surely be reserved for such an implacable enemy of 
 true godliness ? Yet (admire and adore the inexhaustible 
 treasures of grace !) this Saul is admitted into the goodly 
 fellowship of the prophets, is numbered with the noble 
 army of martyrs, and makes a distinguished figure among 
 the glorious company of the apostles. The Corinthians 
 were flagitious even to a proverb. Some of them wallowed 
 in such abominable vices, and habituated themselves to 
 such outrageous acts of injustice, as were a reproach to 
 human nature. Yet, even these sons of violence, and slaves 
 of sensuality, " were washed, were sanctified, were justi- 
 fied :" t washed, in the precious blood of a dying Redeemer -, 
 
 * ActSjix. 1. — 2au?vOf £T/ £/x7rv£wv aTru7^Y,s x«t fovov, Saul yet breathing 
 out threatening and slaughter. What a representation is here of a 
 mind, mad with rage, and abandoned to the fiercest extremes of bar- 
 barity I I scarce know whether I am more shocked at the persecutor's 
 savage disposition, or charmed with the evangelist's lively description. 
 The adverb £t< seems referable to Chap. viii. Ver. 2. and has, in this 
 connection, a peculiar force. The havock he had committed, the 
 inoffensive families he had already ruined, were not sufficient to 
 assuage his vengeful spirit. They were only a taste; which, instead 
 of glutting the blood-hound, made him more closely pursue the track, 
 and more eagerly pant for destruction. He is still athirst for violence 
 and murder ; so eager and insatiable is his thirst, that he even breathes 
 out threatening and slaughter. His words are spears and arrows, and 
 his tongue a sharp sword. 'Tis as natural for him to menace the 
 Christians, as to breathe the air. Nay, they bleed every hour, every 
 moment, in the purposes of his rancorous heart. It is only owing to 
 want of power, that every syllable he utters, every breath he draws, 
 does not deal about deaths, and cause some of the innocent disciples* 
 to fall. 
 
 t 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10, 11. 
 
318 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 sanctified, by the powerful operations of his blessed Spirit j 
 justified, through the infinitely tender mercies of a gracious 
 God. Those who were once the burden of the earthy are 
 now the joy of heaven, and the delight of angels. 
 
 There is another instance in Scripture^ which most loudly 
 publishes that sweetest of the divine names, the Lord, the 
 Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abun- 
 dant in goodness and truth ; keeping mercy for thousands ; 
 forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin :^ an instance this, 
 which exceeds all the former j which exceeds whatever can 
 be imagined ; which if I was to forget, the very stones 
 might cry out, and sound it in my ears. I mean the case 
 of those sinners who murdered the Prince of Peace, and 
 Lord of Glory. These men could scarce have the shadow 
 of an excuse for their crime ; hardly a circumstance to 
 extenuate their guilt. They were well acquainted with his 
 exemplary conversation -, they had often heard his heavenly 
 doctrines^ they were almost daily spectators of his un- 
 equalled miracles. They therefore had all possible reason 
 to honour him, as the most illustrious of Beings ; and to 
 receive his Gospel, as the most inestimable of blessings. 
 Yet, notwithstanding all these engaging motives to love 
 him, even above their own lives 5 they seize his person, 
 asperse his character, drag him before a heathen tiibunal, 
 and extort a sentence of death against innocence and holi- 
 ness itself. Never was the vilest slave so contumeliously 
 abused, nor the vivo%t execrable malefactor so barbarously 
 executed. The sun was confounded at the shocking scene j 
 and one cannot but wonder, how the avenging lightnings 
 could withhold their flashes. The earth tremuled at the 
 horrid deed 3 and why, why did it not cleave asunder, and 
 open a passage for such blood-thirsty miscreants into the 
 nethermost hell ? Shall these ever hope to obtain forgive- 
 ness from the righteous Judge ? Shall not these be coa- 
 
 * Exod. xxxiv. 6, 7. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 319 
 
 signed over to inexorable wrath, and the severest torments } 
 O the miraculous effects of divine grace ! O the tri- 
 umphant goodness of God our Saviour ! Many, even of 
 these impious wretches, at the descent of the Holy Ghost, 
 were convinced of their miserable state ; were wounded 
 with penitential remorse ; fled to the sanctuary of the 
 cross J had their pardon ratified by the baptismal seal j 
 and, continuing in the apostles' doctrine, were made par- 
 takers of the kingdom of heaven ; where they now shine, 
 as so many everlasting monuments of most distinguished 
 mercy ^ and receive beatitude past utterance, from that 
 very Redeemer, whom once '^ with wicked hands they 
 crucified and slew. 
 
 Well might the prophet cry out, with a pleasing amaze- 
 ment ; '' who is a God like unto thee, that pardoneth 
 iniquity, and passeth by transgression?"* Let all flesh 
 know assuredly -, let all flesh rejoice greatly -, that with 
 the Lord there is such mercij, and with his Christ such 
 plentiful redemption. And O ! for the voice of an arch- 
 angel, to circulate the glad tidings through the universe > 
 that the American savage, as well as the European sage, 
 may learn the exceeding riches of grace in Christ 3 through 
 whose infinitely satisfying propitiation, all manner of sin, 
 barbarity, and blasphemy, are freely forgiven unto men. 
 
 "What a grand and majestic dome is the sky! Where 
 are the pillars which support the stately concave ? AVhat 
 art, most exactly true, balances the pressure ? What props, 
 of insuperable strength, sustain the weight ? How is that 
 immeasurable arch upheld, unshaken and unimpaired j 
 while so many generations of busy mortals, have sunk and 
 disappeared, as bubbles upon the stream ? If those stars 
 are of such an amazing bulk, how are they also fastened 
 in their lofty situation? By what miracle in mechanics 
 are so many thousands of ponderous orbs kept from falling 
 
 * Mic. vii. 18. 
 
320 CONTEMPLATIOXS 
 
 upon our heads j kept from dashing, both the world to 
 pieces, and its inhabitants to death ? Are they hung in 
 golden or adamantine chains ? Rest they their enormous 
 load on rocks of marble, or columns of brass ? No j they 
 are pendulous in fluid aether ; yet^ are more immoveably 
 
 fixed, than if the everlasting mountains lent their forests 
 for an axletree, or their ridges for a basis. The Almighty 
 architect stretches out the north, and its whole starry train, 
 over the empty place. He hangs the earth, and all the 
 setherial globes, upon nothing ;* yet are their foundations 
 laid so sure, that they can '' never be moved at any time." 
 No unfit representation, to the sincere Christian, of his 
 
 final perseverance 3 f such as points out the cause which 
 
 * Job, xxvi. 7. 
 
 •f- With regard to i\\e. final perseverance oi the true believer, I am 
 sensible this point is not a little controverted. The sentiments which 
 follow are my steadfast belief. It is by no means proper, in a work 
 of this nature, to enter upon a discussion of the subject ; neither 
 have I room, so much as to hint, what miglit be urged for its support. 
 Let my reader observe, that I am far from delivering it, as essential 
 to Christianity, or necessary to salvation. Millions, of the very con- 
 trary conviction, are, I doubt not, high in the favour of God ; and 
 in a growing meetness for his heavenly kingdom. As I blame none 
 for rejecting, none, I hope, will be offended with me for espousing, 
 this particular doctrine. To be of different opinions, at least in 
 some inferior instances, seems an unavoidable consequence of our 
 present state ; where ignorance, in part, cleaves to the wisest minds ; 
 and prejudice easily besets the most impartial judgments. Tliis may 
 turn to our common advantage, and afford room for the display and 
 exercise of those healing virtues, moderation, meekness, and forbear- 
 ance. Let me only be permitted to ask, whether this tenet does not 
 evidently tend to establish the comfort of the Christian, and to mag- 
 nify the fidelity of God our Saviour ? Whether, far from counte- 
 nancing sloth, or encouraging remissness, to know that our labour 
 shall not be in vain, is not the most prevailing inducement to abound 
 in the work of the Lord ? — 1 Cor. xv. 58. 
 
 Is any one inclined to examine the reasons which made the author 
 a proselyte to this persuasion ? He may find them displayed in the 
 memorial, delivered by several select and eminent divines of the 
 Church of England, at the renowned Synod of Dordt. (See Acta 
 Synod. Dordrech. Par. II. pag. 246, of the Latin edition, published in 
 a single quarto volume.) Those, who have no opportunity of con- 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 
 
 321 
 
 effects itj and constitutes the pledge which ascertains it. 
 His nature is all enfeebled. He is not able, of himself, 
 to think a good thought. He has no visible safeguard, 
 nor any sufficiency of his oim ; and yet whole legions of 
 formidable enemies are in a confederacy to compass his 
 ruin. The tvorld lays unnumbered snares for his feetj 
 the devil is incessantly urging the siege, by a multitude 
 of fiery darts, or wily temptations -, the ^esh, like a per- 
 fidious inmate, under colour of friendship, and a specious 
 pretence of pleasure, is always forward to betray his in- 
 tegrity. But, amidst all these threatening circumstances 
 of personal weakness and imminent danger, an invisible 
 aid is his defence. / wiil uphold thee, says the blessed 
 God, ivith the right hand of my righteousness* Comfort- 
 able truth ! The arm, which fixes the stars in their orders, 
 and guides the planets in their course, is stretched out to 
 preserve the heirs of salvation. — My sheep, adds the 
 great Redeemer, are ?mne; and they shall never perish, 
 neither shall any pluck them out of my hand.\ What 
 
 suiting the memoirs of that venerable assembly, I would refer to the 
 works of the indefatigable and veiy learned Turretin, or to those of 
 the candid and elegant IFitsius. — Turret. Tom. II. Q. xvi. Wits. 
 CEcon. Lib. III. cap. xiii. 
 
 The latest and fullest view of the point, which I ever remember to 
 have met with in any of our English writers, is in the Lime-street 
 Lectures; which are a defence of several most important doctrines 
 of the Gospel, and contained in two octavo volumes; the united 
 labours of nine modem divines, most of whom are well known to the 
 world by their other evangelical and useful writings. In those lectures, 
 the final perseverance of the saints is very particularly stated ; and, 
 to mif apprehension at least, most satisfactorily proved. The argu- 
 ments usually urged against it, are impartially considered, and I can- 
 not but think (with all due deference to the judgment of others) 
 unanswerably confuted. 
 
 And here (not to swell this note any farther) I shall only just hint, 
 that the judicious Hooker (an authority, perhaps, as weighty and 
 unexceptionable as any that can well be produced) gives a solemn 
 attestation to this tenet, in a short discourse on the Perpetuity of 
 Faith, subjoined to his EccUsiastical Politij. — Fol. edit. 
 
 * Isa. xli. 10. t John, x. 28. 
 
322 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 words are these ! And did they come from him^ who 
 hath all power in heaven and on earth ? And were they 
 spoke to the weakest of the flock ; to every unfeigned 
 follower of the great Shepherd ? Then, Omnipotence it- 
 self must be vanquished^ before they can be destroyed, 
 either by the seductions of fraud or the assaults of vio- 
 lence. 
 
 If you ask, therefore, what security we have, of enduring 
 to the end, and continuing faithful unto death } The 
 very same that establishes the heavens, and settles the 
 ordinances of the universe. Can these be thrown into 
 confusion ?* Then may the true believer draw back unto 
 perdition. Can the sun be dislodged from his sphere, 
 and rush lawlessly through the sky? Then, and then 
 only, can the faith of God's elect h^ Jinally overthrown.f 
 Be of good courage then, my soul ; rely on those divine 
 succours, which are so solemnly stipulated, so faithfully 
 promised. Though thy grace be languid as the glimmering 
 spark J though the overflowings of corruption threaten 
 it with total extinction 3 yet, since the great Jehovah 
 has undertaken to cherish the dim principle, " many waters 
 cannot quench it, nor all floods drown it." Nay, though 
 it were feeble as the smohing fiaXjX goodness and faith- 
 
 * Jer. xxxi. 35, 36. f Tit. i. 2. 
 
 + The tenderness and faithfulness of God to his people are finely 
 pictured by the prophet Isaiah, chap. xlii. ver. 3. Which passage, 
 because of its rich consolation, and uncommon beauty, is deservedly 
 adopted by St. Matthew, and ingrafted into the system of evangelical 
 tmths. He will not himself hreah, nor suffer to be broken by any 
 other, the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flaoe. Was it possible 
 to have chosen two more delicate and expressive representations? 
 Could any image be more significant of a veiy infirm and enfeebled 
 faith, than the flexile reed that bends before every wind; which, 
 besides its natural weakness, is made abundantly weaker by being 
 bruised, and so is ready to fall in pieces of itself.? Or could any 
 thing, with a more pathetical exactness, describe the extreme im- 
 becility of the other principle of the divine life, love ? The state of 
 the flax just beginning to burn is liable to be put out by the least 
 blast ; more liable still is the wick of the lamp, when it is not so 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 323 
 
 fulness stand engaged to augment the heat, to raise the 
 fire, and feed the flame, till it beam forth a lamp of im- 
 mortal glory in the heavens. 
 
 As to the faithfulness of a covenanting God, this may 
 be emblematically seen in the stability of the heavenly 
 bodies, and the perpetuity of their motions.* Those that 
 are fia^ed or stationary continue unaltera])le in their grand 
 elevations. No injurious shocks, no violence of conflicting 
 elements, are able to displace those everlasting hinges, on 
 which dependent worlds revolve. Through the whole flight 
 of time, they recede not so much as a hair's-breadth from 
 the precise central point of their respective systems ; 
 while the erratic or planetary perform their prodigious 
 stages without any intermission or the least embarrass- 
 ment. How soon and how easily is the most finished 
 piece of human machinery disconcerted ! But all the 
 celestial movements are so nicely adjusted, all their opera- 
 tions so critically proportioned, and their mutual depend- 
 encies so strongly connected, that they prolong their bene- 
 ficial courses throughout all ages 3 while mighty cities 
 are overwhelmed with ruin, and their very names lost in 
 oblivion : while vast empires are swept from their founda- 
 tions, and leave not so much as a shadowy trace of their 
 ancient magnificence : while all terrestrial things are sub- 
 ject to vicissitude and fluctuating in uncertainty, these 
 are permanent in their duration ; these are invariable in 
 their functions 3 '*^ not one faileth." Who doubts the con- 
 stant succession of day and night, or the regular returns 
 of summer and winter ? And why, O ! why shall we doubt 
 
 much as kindled into a glimmering flame, but only breathing smoke, 
 and uncertain whether it shall take fire or no. Yet true faith and 
 heavenly love, though subsisting amidst such pitiable infirmities, will 
 not be abandoned by their great Author, shall not be extinguished 
 by any temptations, but be maintained, invigorated, and made finally 
 triumphant. — il/cf^. xii. 20. 
 * Psal. cxix. 89, 90. 
 
 y2 
 
324 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 the veracity of God^ or distrust the accomplishment of his 
 holy word ? Can the ordinances of heaven depart } then 
 only can God forget to be gracious, or neglect the per- 
 formance of his promise. Nay, our Lord gives us yet 
 a firmer ground of affiance. He affords us a surer bottom 
 for our faith than the fundamental laivs of the universe. 
 Heaven and Earth, he says, shall pass away ; but my icords 
 shall not, in a single instance, or in one tittle of their 
 import, jo«*5 away. No 3 his sacred word, whatever may 
 obstruct it; whoever may oppose it, shall be fulfilled to 
 the very uttermost. 
 
 O powerful word ! how astonishing is its efficacy ! When 
 this word was issued forth, a thousand worlds emerged 
 out of nothing. Should the mighty orders be repeated, 
 a thousand more would spring into existence. By this 
 word, the vast system of created things is upheld in con- 
 stant and immutable perfection. Should it give command, 
 or cease to exert its energy, the universal frame would be 
 dissolved, and all nature revert to her original chaos. 
 And this very word is pledged for the safety, the comfort, 
 the happiness of the godly. This inviolable, this almighty 
 word, speaks in all the promises of the Gospel. How 
 strangely infatuated are our souls, that we should value 
 it so little ! What infidels are we in fact, that we should 
 depend upon it no more ! Did it create whatever has a 
 being, and shall it not work faith in our breasts ? Do 
 unnumbered worlds owe their support to this word, and 
 shall it not be sufficient to buoy up our souls in troubles, or 
 establish them in trials ? Is it the life of the universe, and 
 shall it be a dead letter to mankind ? 
 
 If I wish to be heard, when I implore heavenly bless- 
 ings, is not this privilege most clearly made over to my 
 enjoyment in that well-known text, ''Ask, and it shall 
 be given you?"* If I long for the Eternal Comforter to 
 
 * Matt. vii. ;. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 325 
 
 dwell in my hearty and sanctify my nature, have I not 
 an apparent title to this high prerogative conferred in that 
 sweet assertive interrogation, " How much more shall your 
 Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those that ask 
 him?"* If I earnestly covet the inestimable treasures 
 that are comprised in the great Immanuel's mediation, can 
 I have a firmer claim to the noble portion than is granted 
 in that most precious Scripture, " Him that cometh to me 
 I will in no-wise cast out ?"f What assurance of being 
 interested in these unspeakable mercies would I desire ? 
 What form of conveyance, what deed of settlement, were 
 it left to my own option, should I choose ? Here is the 
 word of a King, the King immortal and invisible, all whose 
 declarations are truth itself. ;{: If a monarch bestow im- 
 munities on a body of men, and confirm them by an 
 authentic charter, no one controverts, no one questions 
 their right to the royal favours. And why should we 
 suspect the validity of those glorious grants, which are 
 made by the everlasting Sovereign of nature, which he 
 has also ratified by an oath, and sealed with the blood 
 of his Son? Corporations may be disfranchised, and 
 charters revoked. Even mountains may be removed, and 
 stars drop from their spheres : but a tenure, founded on 
 the divine promise, is unalienably secure, is lasting as 
 eternity itself. 
 
 We have endeavoured to spell a syllable of the eternal 
 name in the ancient manuscript of the sky. We have 
 catched a glitnpse of the Almighty's glory from the lustre 
 of innumerable stars. But would w^e behold all bis ex- 
 cellencies portrayed in full perfection, and drawn to the 
 very life, let us attentively consider the Redeemer. I 
 observe there are some parts of the firmament in which 
 
 * Luke, xi. 13. f John, vi. 37. 
 
 If these fail. 
 
 The pillar'd firmament is rottenness. 
 
 And earth's base built on stubble. — Milton's Comus, 
 
S26 CONTEMFLATIONS 
 
 the stars seenij as it were, to cluster; they are sown 
 thicker, they lie closer than usual, and strike the eye 
 with redoubled splendour 3 like the jewels on a crown, 
 they mingle their beams, and reflect an increase of bril- 
 liancy on each other. Is there not such an assemblage, 
 such a constellation of the divine honours, most amiably 
 effulgent in the blessed Jesus ? 
 
 Does not infinite ivisdom shine with surpassing bright- 
 ness in Christ?* To the making of a world there was 
 no obstacle 3 but to the saving of man, there seemed to be 
 unsurmountable bars. If the rebel is suffered to escape, 
 where is the mjlexible justice which denounces '^ death 
 as the wages of sin ?" If the offender is thoroughly par- 
 doned, where is the inviolable veracity Avhich has solemnly 
 declared, *' The soul that sinneth shall die ?" These awful 
 attributes are set in terrible array, and, like an impene- 
 trable battalion, oppose the salvation of apostate man- 
 kind. Who can suggest a method to absolve the traitorous 
 race, yet vindicate the honours of Almighty Sovereignty ? 
 This is an intricacy, which the most exalted of finite in- 
 telligences are unable to clear. But behold the unsearch- 
 able secret revealed ! revealed in the wonderful redemption, 
 accomplished by a dying Saviour ! so plainly revealed, 
 that " he who runs may read," and even babes understand, 
 what minds of the deepest penetration could not contrive. 
 The Son of God, taking our nature, obeys the law, and 
 undergoes death in our stead : by this means the threat- 
 ened curse is executed in all its rigour, and free grace is 
 exercised in all its riches. Justice maintains her rights, 
 and, with a steady hand, administers impartial vengeance 5 
 while Mercy dispenses her pardons, and welcomes the 
 repentant criminal into the tenderest embraces. Hereby 
 the seemingly thwarting attributes are reconciled. The 
 sinner is saved, not only in full consistence with the 
 
 * See the next note. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 327 
 
 honour of the supreme perfections, but to the most illus- 
 trious manifestation of them all. 
 
 WTiere does the divine power "^ so signally exert itself 
 as in the cross of Christ, and in the conquests of grace ? 
 Our Lord, in his lowest state of humiliation, gained a 
 more glorious victory, than w^hen, through the dividing 
 sea and the waste howling wilderness, " he rode upon his 
 chariots and horses of salvation." When his hands were 
 rivetted with irons to the bloody tree, he disarmed death 
 of its sting, and plucked the prey from the jaws of hell. 
 Then, even then, while he was crucified in weakness, he 
 vanquished the strong man, and subdued our most formidable 
 enemies : even then, he spoiled principalities, triumphed 
 over the powers of darkness, and led captivity captive. 
 Now he is exalted to his heavenly throne, with what a 
 prevailing efi&cacy does his grace go forth, ''^ conquering, 
 and to conquer !" By this, the slaves of sin are rescued 
 -from their bondage, and restored to the liberty of righteous- 
 ness. By this, depraved wretches, whose appetites were 
 sensual, and their dispositions devilish, are not only re- 
 newed, but renewed after the image of God, and made 
 partakers of a divitie nature. Millions, millions of lost 
 creatures are snatched, by the interposition of grace, like 
 brands from the burning, and, translated into everlasting 
 mansions, shine brighter than the stars, shine bright as the 
 sun, in the kingdom of their Father. 
 
 Would you then see an incomparably more bright dis- 
 play of the divine excellence than the unspotted firmament, 
 the spangles of heaven, or the golden fountain of day 
 exhibit ? Contemplate Jesus of Nazareth. He is the 
 
 * Christ, the loisdom of God, and the power of God. — 1 Cor. i. 24, 
 To the intent that now, unto the principalities and powers in heavenly 
 places, might be known by the church (by the amazing contrivance and 
 accomplishment of its redemption) the deep, extensive, and (To\y»-o<- 
 Hj^of) greatly diversified wisdom of God* — Eph. iii. 10. 
 
328 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 brightness of his Father's glory, and the express image of 
 his person. In his immaculate nature, in his heavenly 
 tempers, in his most holy life, the moral perfections of the 
 Deity are represented to the highest advantage.* Hark ! 
 how Mercy, with her charming voice, speaks in all he 
 utters ! See, how ^ 'Benevolence pours her choicest stores 
 in all he does ! Did ever Compassion look so amiably soft 
 as in those pitying tears, which swelled his eyes, and 
 trickled down his cheeks, to bedew the rancour of his 
 inveterate enemies } Was it possible for Patience to as-^ 
 sume a form so lovely as that sweetly- winning conduct, 
 which bore the contradiction of sinners ? which entreated 
 the obstinate to be reconciled ? besought the guilty not 
 to die? In other things we may find some scattered rays 
 of Jehovah's glory 3 but in Christ they are all collected 
 and united. In Christ they beam forth with the strongest 
 radiance, with the most delightful effulgence. Out ofSion, 
 and in Sioii's Great Redeemer, hath God appeared in per- * 
 feet beauty. 
 
 Search then, my soul, above all other pursuits, search 
 the records of redeeming love. Let these be the principal 
 objects of thy study : here employ thyself with the most 
 unwearied assiduity : in these are hid all the treasures of 
 tvisdom and knowledge:^ such tvisdom, as charms and 
 
 * In this sense, that saying of our Lord is eminently true. He that 
 hath seen me^ hath seen the Father. — John, xiv. 9. 
 
 f Coloss. ii. 3. — Not a mean degree, but a treasure; not one trea- 
 sure, but many ; not many only, but all treasures, of true wisdom 
 and saving knowledge, are in Christ and his glorious Gospel. Tlie 
 transcendent excellency of those treasures seems to be finely inti- 
 mated in that other expression ajroxpuipoi^ hid, (which maybe inter- 
 preted by the Hebrew a'JIOSOn, Job, iii. 21.) laid up, with the ut- 
 most care and the greatest safety : not left at all adventures, to be 
 stumbled upon by every giddy wanderer, or to fall into the arms of 
 the yawning sluggard ; but, like jewels of the brightest lustre, or 
 riches of the highest value, kept in store to adorn and reward the 
 diligent searcher. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 329 
 
 astonishes the very angels, engages their closest attention^ 
 and fills them with the deepest adoration:* such hiouj- 
 ledge, as qualifies the possessor, if not for offices of dignity 
 on earth, yet for the most honourable advancements in 
 the kingdom of heaven : disunited from which knowledge, 
 all application is but elaborate impertinence, and all science 
 no better than pompous ignorance. These records con- 
 tain the faultless model of duty, and the noblest motives 
 to obedience. Nothing so powerful, to work a lively faith 
 and a joyful hope, as an attentive consideration of our 
 Lord's unutterable merits : nothing so sovereign, to anti- 
 dote the pestilential influence of the world, and deliver 
 our affections from a slavery to ignoble objects, as an 
 habitual remembrance of his extreme agonies. The ge- 
 nuine, the ever-fruitful source of all morality, is the un- 
 feigned love of Christy and the cross, the cross, is the 
 appointed altar, ^; from which we may fetch a coal to kindle 
 this sacred fire.| 
 
 Behold, therefore, the man, the matchless and stupend- 
 ous man, whose practice was a pattern of the most exalted 
 
 * This, I believe, is the import of the apostle's language, though 
 it is not a literal translation of £<; a e'7rt%fji.ova-i)> ayye\ot Trxpxxu^l/xi.—. 
 1 Pet. i. 12. I never had such a lively apprehension of the beautiful 
 siguificancy of the last word, as when I have attended a dissection 
 of some part of the animal body. In order to discern the minutice 
 of the admirable frame, the latent wonders of art and mechanism, 
 the eye is so sharpened, and its application so intensely bended, as 
 gives a very just experimental comment on that expressive phrase, 
 •n-xpxxv-^/xi. With such earnest attention is tlie everlasting Gospel 
 contemplated by the angelic orders ! How much more, if it were 
 possible, does it deserve the devout and incessant consideration of 
 human minds ? since by them it is not only to be speculated as a 
 bright and ravishing display of the divine attributes, but to be applied 
 to their fallen nature, as a most benign scheme of recovering grace ; 
 as the sure and only method of obtaining life and immortality. 
 
 t And I, says our Lord, If I be lifted up from the earth, and ex- 
 tended on the cross, vnll draw all men unto me : will give such a rich 
 and transcendent display of my love, as shall constitute the most 
 powerful and prevailing attractive oi theirs, — Jolm, xii. 32. 
 
 X Alluding to Isaiah, vi. 6. 
 
330 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 virtue, and his person the mirror of every divine perfec- 
 tion. Examine the memoirs of his heavenly temper and 
 exemplary conversation : contemplate that choir of graces, 
 which were associated in his mind, and shed the highest 
 lustre on all his actions : familiarize to thy thoughts his 
 instructive discourses, and enter into the very spirit of his 
 refined doctrines 3 that the graces may be transfused into 
 thy breast, and the doctrines transcribed in thy life. Fol- 
 low him to Calvary s horrid eminence, to Calvary s fatal 
 catastrophe ; where innocence, dignity, and merit, were 
 made perfect through sufferings; each shining with all 
 possible splendour through the tragical scene, somewhat 
 like his own radiant bow, then glowing with the greatest 
 beauty, when appearing on the darkest cloud. Be thy 
 most constant attention fixed on that lovely and sorrowful 
 spectacle. Behold the spotless victim, nailed to the tree, 
 and stabbed to the heart : hear him pouring out prayers 
 for his murderers, before he poured out his soul for trans- 
 gressors : see the wounds that stream with forgiveness, 
 and bleed balm for a distempered world. O ! see the 
 justice of the Almighty, and his goodness j his mercy, and 
 his vengeance j every tremendous and gracious attribute 
 manifested J manifested with inexpressible glory, in that 
 most ignominious, yet grandest of transactions. 
 
 Since God is so inconceivably great, as these his mar- 
 vellous works declare j 
 
 Since the great Sov' reign sends ten thousand worlds 
 To tell us, he resides above them all. 
 In glory's unapproachable recess ;* 
 
 how can we forbear hastening, with Moses, bowing our- 
 selves to the earth, and worshipping ? 
 
 * For this qmtation, and several valuable hints, I acknowledge 
 myself indebted to those beautiful and sublime poems, intituled 
 Night-Th&ughts : of which I shall only say, that I receive fresh plea- 
 sure, and richer improvement, from every renewed perusal. And 
 I think I shall have reason to bless the indulgent Bestowei of all 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 331 
 
 O ! what an honourable, as well as advantageous em- 
 ploy, is prayer ! — Advantageous : By prayer, we cultivate 
 that improving correspondence with Jehovah, we carry on 
 that gladdening intercourse with his Spirit, which must 
 begin here, in order to be completed in eternity. — Honour' 
 able : By prayer, we have access to that mighty Potentate, 
 whose sceptre sways universal nature, and whose rich re- 
 galia fill the skies with lustre. Prayer places us in his 
 presence-chamber J while " t\ie blood of sprinkling" pro- 
 cures us a gracious audience. 
 
 Shall I then blush to be found prostrate before the throne 
 of grace ? Shall 1 be ashamed to have it known, that I 
 offer up social supplications in the family, or am conscien- 
 tious in observing my private retirements ? Rather, let me 
 glory in this unspeakable privilege : let me reckon it the 
 noblest posture, to fall low on my knees before his foot- 
 stool J and the highest honour, to enjoy communion with 
 his most exalted majesty : incomparably more noble, than 
 to sit in person on the triumphal chariot, or to stand in 
 effigy amidst the temple of worthies. 
 
 Most inestimable, in such a view, is that promise, which 
 so often occurs in the prophetic writings, and is the crown- 
 ing benefit of the new covenant, / will be thy God* Will 
 this supremely excellent and Almighty Being vouchsafe to 
 be my portion ? To settle upon a poor sinner, not the 
 heritage of a county, not the possession of the whole earth, 
 but his own ever-blessed self? May I, then, through his 
 free condescending grace, and the unknown merits of his 
 
 wisdom for those instructive and animating compositions, even in 
 ray last moments ; than which, nothing can more emphatically speak 
 their superior excellence^ nor give a more solid satisfaction to their 
 worthy author. Happy should I think myself, if these little sketches 
 of contemplative devotion might be honoured with the most inferior 
 degree of the same success; might receive a testimony, not from 
 the voice of Fame, but from the dying lips of some edified Christian. 
 * Heb. viii. 10. 
 
332 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 Son, look upon all these infinitely noble attributes as my 
 treasure ? May I regard the ivisdom, which superintends 
 such a multitude of worlds, as my guide 3 the power y which 
 produced, and preserves them in existence, as my guard j 
 the goodness, which, by an endless communication of fa- 
 vours, renders them all so many habitations of happiness, 
 as my exceeding great reivard ? What a fund of felicity is 
 included in such a blessing ! How often does the Israelitish 
 prince exult in the assurance, that this unutterable and 
 boundless good is his own ! Interested in this, he bids 
 defiance to every evil that can be dreaded ; and rests in 
 certain expectation of every blessing that can be desired. 
 The Lord is my light, mid my salvation ,- whom then shall I 
 fear? The Lord, with an air of exultation he repeats 
 both his affiance and his challenge, is the strength of my 
 life; of whom then shall I be afraid?"^ Nothing so effec- 
 tual as this appropriating faith, to inspire a dignity of 
 mind, superior to transitory trifles, or to create a calmness 
 of temper, unalarmed by vulgar fears, unappalled by death 
 itself. The Lord is my shepherd, says the same truly gal- 
 lant and heroic personage -j therefore shall I lack nothing.f 
 How is it possible he should suffer want, who has the all- 
 sufficient fulness for his supply? So long as unerring 
 wisdom is capable of contriving the means j so long as 
 uncontrollable power is able to execute them j such a one 
 cannot fail of being safe and happy, whether he continue 
 amidst the vicissitudes of time, or depart into the un- 
 changeable eternity. 
 
 Here let us stand a moment, and humbly contemplate 
 this great God, together with ourselves, in a relative view. 
 If we reflect on the works of material nature, their number 
 incomprehensible, and their extent unmeasurable -, each of 
 them apart, so admirably framed 3 the connections of the 
 
 » Psal. xxvii. 1. f Psal. xxiii. 1. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 333 
 
 whole so exquisitely regulated ; and all derived from one 
 and the same glorious agent — if we recollect the far more 
 noble accomplishments of elegant taste and discerning 
 judgment;, of refined affections and exalted sentiments, 
 which are to be found among the several orders of intelU- 
 gent existence ; and all of them flowing, in rich emanations, 
 from the one sole fountain of intellectual light — if we farther 
 consider this author of material beauty and moral excel- 
 lency, as a guard'iany a governor, and benefactor to all his 
 creatures 3 supporting the whole system, and protecting 
 each individual, by an ever-watchful Providence ; presiding 
 over the minutest affairs, and causing all events to termi- 
 nate in the most extensive good ; heaping, with unremitted 
 liberality, his benefits upon every capable object, and 
 making the circuit of the universe a seminary of happiness 
 —is it possible for the human heart, under such captivating 
 views, to be indifferent towards this most benign, most 
 bountiful Original of being and of bliss ? Can any be So 
 immersed in stupidity, as to say unto the Almighty, — in 
 the language of an irreligious temper and licentious life, 
 to say, '^ Depart from us j we implore not thy favour, nor 
 desire the knowledge of thy ways r" Wonder, O heavens ! 
 be amazed, O earth ! and let the inhabitants of doth express 
 their astonishment at this unparalleled complication of dis- 
 ingenuous, ungrateful, destructive perverseness ! 
 
 If we consider our fallen and imperfect state 5 frail in 
 our bodies, enfeebled in our minds, in every part of our 
 constitution, and in all the occurrences of life, '^'^like a 
 tottering wall, or a broken hedge" — if we survey our indi' 
 gent and i?i/ir)n state, without holiness, without spiritual 
 strength 5 our possession of present conveniencies entirely 
 dependent on God's sovereign pleasure ; yea, forfeited, 
 justly forfeited, with every future hope, by a thousand 
 aggravated iniquities — if we add the various disasters of 
 our condition ; agitated as we are by tumidtuous passions, 
 oppressed with dispiriting fears, held in suspense by a 
 
334 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 variety of perplexing * cares j liable to pains, and exposed 
 to troubles j troubles from every quarter ; troubles of every 
 kind — Can we, amidst so many wants,, under such de- 
 plorable infirmities, and subject to such disastrous acci- 
 dents — can we be unconcerned, whether God's omnipotentj 
 irresistible, all-conducting hand, be against us or for us ? 
 Imagination itself shudders at the thought ! Can we rest 
 satisfied, without a well-grounded persuasion that we are 
 reconciled to this supreme Lord, and the objects of his 
 unchangeable goodness ? If there be an abandoned wretch, 
 whose apprehensions are so fatally blinded; who is so 
 utterly lost to all sense of his duty, and of his interest 3 
 let me bewail his misery, while I abhor his impiety : bewail 
 his misery, though popularity, with her choicest laurels, 
 adorn his brow ; though affluence, with her richest delica- 
 cies, load his table ; though half a nation, or half a world, 
 conspire to call him happy. 
 
 May I, by a believing application, solace myself in this 
 everlasting Source of love, perfection, and joy ! Grant me 
 this request, and I ask no more : — Only, that I may expect, 
 not with a reluctant anxiety, but with a ready cheerfulness, 
 the arrival of that important hour, when this veil of flesh 
 
 * Perplexing — Those who read the original language of the New 
 Testament are sufficiently apprised, that such is the significancy of 
 that benevolent dissuasive, urged by our Lord, /^^ fxepinvxTs, — Matt. 
 vi, 25. I beg leave, for the sake of the unlearned reader, to observe, 
 that our translation, though for the most part faithful and excellent, 
 has here misrepresented our divine Master's meaning. Take no 
 thought for your food, for your raiment, for your bodily welfare, is not 
 only not the true sense, but the veiy reverse of the Scriptural doc- 
 trine. We are required to take a prudent and moderate thought for 
 the necessaries of life. The sluggard, who neglects this decent pre- 
 caution, is severely reprimanded; is sent to one of the meanest 
 animals, to blush for his folly, and learn discretion from her conduct, 
 -—Prov. vi. 6. Our Saviour's precept, and the exact sense of his 
 expression, is, Take no anxious thought ; indulge no perplexing care ; 
 no such care as may argue an unreasonable distrust of Providence, or 
 may rend and tear your minds with distressing, with pernicious so- 
 licitude. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 335 
 
 shall drop^ and the shadows of mortality flee away : when 
 1 shall no longer complain of obscure knowledge, languid 
 affections, and imperfect fruition — but shall see the un- 
 created and immortal Majesty : see him, not in this distant 
 and unaffecting method of reasoning from his works, but 
 with the most dear and direct intuition of the mind — when 
 I shall love him, not with a cold and contracted spirit, but 
 with the most lively and enlarged emotions of gratitude — 
 when I shall incessantly enjoy the light of his countenance j 
 and be united, inseparably united, to his all-glorious God- 
 head. Take, ye ambitious, unenvied and unopposed, take 
 to yourselves the toys of state. May I be enabled to re- 
 joice in this blessed hope, and to triumph in that amiable, 
 that adorable, that delightful name, the Lord my God ! and 
 I shall scarce bestow a thought on the splendid pageantry 
 of the world, unless it be to despise its empty pomp, and to 
 pity its deluded admirers. 
 
 All these bodies, though immense in their size, and 
 almost infinite in their multitude, are obedient to the divine 
 command. The God of wisdom "telleth their numbers," 
 and is intimately acquainted with their various properties. 
 The God of power "'^calleth them all by their names," and 
 assigns them whatsoever office he pleases, — He ?narshals 
 all the starry legions with infinitely greater ease, and nicer 
 order, than the most expert general arranges his disciplined 
 troops. — He appoints their posts; he marks their route; 
 he fixes the time for their return. The posts which he 
 appoints, they occupy without fail ; in the route which he 
 settles, they persevere, without the least deviation j and 
 to the instant* which he fixes for their return, they are 
 precisely punctual. — He has given them a law, which, 
 
 * " The planets, aud all the innumerable host of heavenly bodies, 
 perform their courses and revolutions vidth so much certainty and 
 exactness, as never once to fail; but, for almost 6000 years, com^ 
 constantly about to the same period, in the hundredth part of a mi- 
 uute,"— Stackhouse's Hist. Bible, 
 
836 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 through a long revolution of ages, shall not be broken, 
 unless his sovereign will interposes for its repeal. Then, 
 indeed, the motion of the celestial orbs is controlled 5 their 
 action remains suspended ) or their influence receives a 
 new direction. The sun, at his creation, issued forth with 
 a command to travel perpetually through the heavens j 
 since which he has never neglected to perform the great 
 circuit, rejoicing as a giant to '*^run his race." But, when 
 it is requisite to accomplish the purposes of divine love, 
 the orders are countermanded 3 the flaming courier remits 
 his career 3 stands still in Gibeon ;^ and, for the conveni- 
 ency of the chosen people, holds back the fallen day. The 
 moon was dispatched with a charge, never to intermit her. 
 revolving course till day and night come to an end. But 
 when the children of Providence are to be favoured with 
 an uncommon continuance of light, she halts in her march j 
 makes a solemn pause in the valley of Ajalon j\ and delays 
 to bring on her attendant train of shadows. — ^^ \^^ien the 
 enemies of the Lord are to be discomfited, the stars are 
 levied into the service 3 the stars are armed, and take the 
 fields the stars, in their courses, fought against Sisera.'' X 
 
 * This is spoken in conformity to the Scripture language, and 
 according to the common notion. With respect to the power which 
 effected the alteration, it is much the same thing, and alike miracu- 
 lous, whether the sun or the earth be supposed to move. 
 
 f Josh. X. 12, 13. — The prophet Habakkuk, according to his lofty 
 manner, celebrates this event, and points out, in very poetical diction, 
 the design of so surprising a miracle : — The .sun and moon stood still 
 in their habitation: in the light y the long-continued and miraculous 
 light, thy arrows, edged with destruction, tcalked on their awful 
 errand ; in the clear shining of the day, protracted for this very pur- 
 pose, thy glittering spear, launched by thy people, but guided by thy 
 hand, sprung to its ^vey.—Hab. iii. 11. 
 
 + Judg. V. 20. — The Scriptural phrase /ow^A? against, will, I hope, 
 be a proper ivarrant for every expression I have used on this occasion. 
 The passage is generally supposed to signify, that some very dreadful 
 meteors (which the stars were thought to influence), such as fierce 
 flashes of lightning, impetuous showers of rain, and rapid storms of 
 hail, were employed by the Almighty to terrify, annoy, and overthrow 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 337 
 
 So dutiful is material nature ! so obsequious, in all her 
 forms, to her Creator's pleasure ! The bellowing thunders 
 listen to his voice j and the voUied lightnings observe the 
 direction of his eye. The flying storm and impetuous whirl- 
 wind wear his yoke. The raging waves revere his nod: 
 they shake the earth j they dash the skies j yet never offer 
 to pass the limits which he has prescribed. Even the pla- 
 netary spheres, though vastly larger than this wide-extended 
 earth, are, in his hand, as clay in the hands of the potter. 
 Though, swifter than the northeru blast, they sweep the 
 long tracts of aether, yet are they guided by his reins, and 
 execute whatever he enjoins. All those enormous globes 
 of central fire which beam through the boundless azure, in 
 comparison of which an army of planets were like a swarm 
 of summer insects ; those, even those, are conformable to 
 his will, as the melting wax to the impressed seal. Since 
 all, all is obedient throughout the whole ascent of things, 
 shall man be the only rebel against the Almighty Maker ? 
 Shall these unruly appetites reject his government, and 
 refuse their allegiance ? Shall these headstrong passions 
 break loose from divine restraint, and run wild, in exorbi- 
 tant sallies, after their own imaginations ? 
 
 O my soul, be stung with remorse, and overwhelmed 
 with confusion, at the thought ! Is it not a righteous thing, 
 that the blessed God should sway the sceptre, with the 
 most absolute authority, over all the creatures which his 
 power has formed ? especially over those creatures, whom 
 
 the enemies of Israel. If so, there cannot be a more clear and lively 
 paraphrase on the text, than those fine lines of a Jewish writer : — 
 His severe ivrath shall he sharpen for a stcord; and the world shall 
 fight tcith him against the ungodly. Then shall the right-aiming thun- 
 derbolts go abroad; and from the clouds, as from a well-drawn bow, 
 shall they fly to the mark. And hailstones, full of tcrath, shall be cast 
 out of a stone bow; and the water of the sea shall rage against them; 
 and the floods (as was the case of the river Kishon) shall cruelly drown 
 them. Yea, a mighty wind shall stand up against them; and, like a 
 storm, shall blow them away. Wisd. v. 20, 21, 22, 23. 
 
 z 
 
338 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 his distinguishing favour has endued with the noble prin- 
 ciple of reason, and made capable of a blissful immortality ? 
 Sure, if all the ranks of inanimate existence conform to 
 their Maker's decree by the necessity oi their nature, this 
 more excellent race of beings should pay their equal homage 
 by the ivilfing compliance of their affections.* Come then, 
 all ye faculties of my mind; come, all ye powers of my 
 body ; give up yourselves, without a moment's delay, with- 
 out the least reserve, to his governance. Stand, like dutiful 
 servants, at his footstool, in an everlasting readiness to do 
 whatsoever he requires, to be whatsoever he appoints ; to 
 further, with united efforts, the purposes of his glory in this 
 earthly scene 3 or else to separate, without reluctance, at 
 his summons : the one, to sleep in the silent dust 3 the 
 other, to advance his honour in -some remoter colony of his 
 kingdom. Thus may I join with all the works of the Lord, 
 in all places of his dominion, to recognize his universal 
 supremacy 5 and proclaim him Sovereign of Souls, as well 
 as Ruler of Worlds. 
 
 At my first coming abroad, all these luminaries were 
 eclipsed by the overpowering lustre of the sun : they were 
 
 * Tliis argument, I acknowledge, is not absolutely conclusive, but 
 it is popular and striking ; nor can I think myself obliged, in such a 
 work, \\\itve fancy bears a considerable sway, to proceed always with 
 the caution and exactness of a disputer in the schools. If there be 
 some appearance of analogy between the fact and the inference, it 
 seems sufficient for my purpose ; though the deduction should not be 
 necessary, nor the process strictly syllogistical. One of the apostolic 
 fathers has an affecting and sublime paragraph, which runs entirely in 
 this form : ^Kiag rs Ka< aeKrivriy caTspwv re '/_opoi, xara ttjv 8>jv Siarayrjv 
 •iUToy iv Oywovoja, S/j^a Traffvjf 7rapsK§aaitjj(, e^eXtcraovo'iv roug sTriTeTuy/jLevovs 
 avToig opicr/xovg. The Sim, the moo}i, and the starry choir, icithout the 
 least deviation, and with the utmost harmony, perform the revolutions 
 appointed them by the supreme decree : from which remark, and abun- 
 dance of other similar instances, observable in the economy of nature, 
 he exhorts Christians to a cordial unanimity among themselves, and 
 a dutiful obedience to God. Vid. Clem. Roman. 1 Ep. ad Corinth, sect. 
 20. — See also a beautiful ode in Dr. Watts' s Lyric Poems, intituled 
 Ths Comparison and Complaint, which turns upon this very thought. 
 
ox THE STARRY HEAVENS. 339 
 
 all placed in the very same stations, and played the same 
 sprightly beams ; yet not one of them was seen. As the 
 day-light wore away, and the sober shades advanced, ffes' 
 perus, who leads the starry train, disclosed his radiant 
 forehead, and catched my eye. WHiile I stood gazing on 
 his bright and beautiful aspect, several of his attendants 
 peeped through the blue curtains. Scarce had I turned 
 to observe these fresh emanations of splendour, but others 
 dropped the veil, others stole into view. When lo ! faster 
 and more numerous multitudes sprang from obscurity j 
 they poured in shining troops, and in sweet confusion, 
 over all the empyrean plain j till the firmament seemed 
 like one vast constellation, and *^*^a flood of glory burst 
 from all the skies." 
 
 Is not such the rise, and such the progress of a true 
 conversion, in the prejudiced infidel, or inattentive sinner ? 
 Daring the period of his vainer years, a thousand inter- 
 resting truths lay utterly undiscovered -, a thousand mo- 
 mentous concerns were entirely disregarded 5 but when 
 divine grace dissipates the delusive glitter which dazzled 
 his understanding and beguiled his afi'ections, then he 
 begins to discern, dimly to discern, the things which be- 
 long unto his peace. Some admonition of Scripture darts 
 conviction into his soul, as the glimmering of a star pierces 
 the gloom of night : then, perhaps, another awful or cheer^ 
 ing text impresses terror or diffuses comfort : a threatening 
 alarms his fears, or a promise awakens his hopes. This, 
 possibly, is succeeded by some afflictive dispensation of 
 Providence, and improved by some edifying and instructive 
 conversation j all which is established, as to its con- 
 tinuance, and enlarged, as to its influence, by a diligent 
 study of the sacred word. By this means, new truths 
 continually pour their evidence ; scenes of refined and 
 exalted, but hitherto unknown delight, address him with 
 their attractivesj new desires take wing 3 new pursuits 
 are set on footj a new turn of mind forms his temper 5 
 
 z2 
 
340 COJJTEMPLATlONS ' 
 
 a new habit of conversation regulates his life. In a woicl^ 
 old things are passed aioay, and all things become new : he, 
 who was sometimes darkness^ is now lights and life, and 
 joy in the Lord. 
 
 The more attentively I view the crystal concave, the 
 more fully I discern the richness of its decorations. Abun- 
 dance of minuter lights, which lay concealed from a super- 
 fic'ial notice, are visible on a closer examination ^ especially 
 in those tracts of the sky which are called the Galao'y, 
 and are distinguishable by a sort of milky path. There 
 the stars are crowded, rather than disseminated : the 
 region seems to be all on a blaze with their blended 
 rays. Besides this vast profusion, which in my present 
 situation the eye discovers, was I to make my survey from 
 any other part of the globe, lying nearer the southern pole, 
 I should behold a neiv choir of starry bodies, which have 
 never appeared within our horizon. Was I (which is still 
 more wonderful), either here or there, to view the firma- 
 ment with the virtuoso's glass, I should find a prodigious 
 multitude of flaming orbs, which, immersed in depths of 
 aether, escape the keenest unassisted sight.* Yet, in these 
 various situations, even with the aid of the telescopic tube, 
 I should not be able to descry the half, perhaps not a 
 thousandth part, of those majestic luminaries, which the 
 vast expansive heavens contain. f So, the more diligently 
 
 * " Come forth, O man ; yon azure round survey. 
 And view those lamps, which yield eternal day. 
 Bring forth thy glasses ; clear thy wond'ring eyes ; 
 Millions beyond the former millions rise : 
 Look farther ; millions more blaze from remoter skies." 
 
 See an ingenious poem, intituled The Universe. 
 
 f How noble, considered in this view, are the celebrations of the 
 Divine Majesty, which frequently occur in the sacred writings ! It 
 is the Lord that made the heavens. — Psal. xcvi. 5. What a pro- 
 digious dignity does such a sense of things give to that devout as- 
 cription of praise ! Thou, even thou, art Lord alone : thou hast made 
 heaven, the heaven of heavens, with all their host. — Nehem. ix. 6. Ex- 
 amined by this rule, tlie beautiful climax in our inspired hymn is 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 341 
 
 I pursue my search into those oracles of eternal truth, the 
 Scriptures, I perceive a wider, a deeper, an ever-increasing 
 fund of spiritual treasures. I perceive the brighter strokes 
 of wisdom, and the richer displays of goodness ; a more 
 transcendent excellency in the illustrious Messiah, and a 
 more deplorable vileness in fallen manj a more immacu- 
 late purity in God's law, and more precious privileges in 
 his Gospel, Yet, after a course of study ever so assiduous, 
 ever so prolonged, I should have reason to own myself a 
 mere babe in heavenly knowledge j or, at most, but a puerile 
 proficient in the school of Christ. 
 
 After all my most accurate inspection, those starry orbs 
 appear but as glittering points. Even the planets, though 
 so much nearer our earthly mansions, seem only like burn- 
 ing bullets. If, then, we have such imperfect apprehensions 
 of visible and material things, how much more scanty 
 and inadequate must be our notions of invisible and im- 
 mortal objects ! We behold the stars : though every one 
 is incomparably bigger than the globe we inhabit, yet 
 they dwindle, upon our survey, into the most diminutive 
 forms. Thus, we see by faith the glories of the blessed 
 Jesus ; the atoning efiicacy of his death ; the justifying 
 merit of his righteousness j and the joys which are re- 
 served for his followers. But alas ! even our most exalted 
 ideas are vastly below the truth : as much below the truth, 
 as the report which our eyes make of those celestial edi- 
 fices, is inferior to their real grandeur. Should we take 
 in all the magnifying assistances which art has contrived, 
 those luminous bodies would elude our skill, and appear 
 as small as ever. Should an inhabitant of earth travel 
 towards the cope of heaven, and be carried forwards, in 
 his aerial journey, more than a hundred and sixty millions 
 
 sublime beyond compare : Praise him, sun and moon : praise Mm, 
 all ye stars of light: praise him, ye heaven of heavens. — Psal. cxlviii. 
 3,4. 
 
342 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 of miles j* even in that advanced situation, those oceans 
 oi Jlame would look no larger than radiant specks. In 
 like manner^ conceive ever so magnificently of the Re- 
 deemer's honours, and of the bliss which he has purchased 
 for his people 3 yet you will fall short. Raise your ima- 
 gination higher ; stretch your invention tvider ; give them 
 all the scope which a soaring and excursive fancy can 
 take J still your conceptions will be extremely dispro- 
 portionate to their genuine perfections. Vast are the 
 bodies which roll in the expanse of heaven ; vaster far 
 are those fields of cether, through which they run their 
 endless round : but the excellency of Jesus, and the happi- 
 ness laid up for his servants, are greater than either ; than 
 both ; than all. An inspired writer calls the former '' The 
 unsearchable riches of Christ j" and styles the latter '^ An 
 exceeding great and eternal weight of glory." 
 
 If those stars are so many inexhaustible magazines of 
 fire, and immense reservoirs of light, there is no reason 
 to doubt but they have some very grand uses, suitable to 
 the magnificence of their nature. To specify, or explain, 
 the particular purposes they answer, is altogether im- 
 possible in our present state of distance and ignorance : 
 this, however, we may clearly discern ; they are disposed 
 in that very manner which is most pleasing and most 
 serviceable to mankind. They are not placed at an in- 
 finite remove, so as to lie beyond our sight 3 neither are 
 they brought so near our abode, as to annoy us with their 
 beams. We see them shine on every side : the deep 
 azure, which serves them as a ground, heightens their 
 
 * This, incredible as it may seem, is not a mere supposition, but 
 a real fact : for, about the twenty-first of December, we are above 
 160,000,000 of miles nearer the northern parts of the sky, than we 
 were at the twenty-first of June; and yet, with regard to the stars 
 situate in that quarter, we perceive no change in their aspecty nor 
 any augmentation of their magnitude. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 343 
 
 splendour ; at the same time, their influence is gentle, 
 and their rays are destitute of heat : so that we are sur- 
 rounded with a multitude of fiery globes, which beautify 
 and illuminate the firmament, without any risk, either to 
 the coolness of our night, or the quiet of our repose. Who 
 can sufl&ciently admire that wondrous benignity, which, 
 on our account, strews the earth with blessings of every 
 kind, and vouchsafes to make the very heavens subservient 
 to our delight ? 
 
 It is not solely to adorn the roof of our palace with costly 
 gildings, that God commands the celestial luminaries to 
 glitter through the gloom : we also reap considerable bene- 
 fits from their ministry. They divide our time, and fix its 
 solemn periods. They settle the order of our works, and 
 are, according to the destinations mentioned in sacred 
 writ, " for signs and for seasons ; for days and for years." 
 The returns of heat and cold alone would have been too 
 precarious a rule. But these radiant bodies, by the varia- 
 tion, and also by the regularity of their motions, afford a 
 method of calculating, absolutely certain, and sufficiently 
 obvious. By this, the farmer is instructed when to commit 
 his grain to the furrows, and how to conduct the operations 
 of husbandry. By thi§, the sailor knows when to proceed 
 on his voyage with least peril, and how to carry on the 
 business of navigation with most success. 
 
 Why should not the Christian, the probationer for eter- 
 nity, learn from the same monitors, to number — for nobler 
 purposes, to number his days ; and duly to transact the 
 grand, grand affairs of his everlasting salvation ? Since 
 God has appointed so many bright measurers of our time, 
 to determine its larger periods, and to minute down its 
 ordinary stages -, sure, this most strongly inculcates its 
 value, and should powerfully prompt us to improve it. 
 Behold ! the supreme Lord marks the progress of our life 
 in that most conspicuous calendar above. Does not such 
 an ordination tell us^ and in the most emphatical language^ 
 
344 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 that our life is given for use, not for waste 9 that no 
 portion of it is delivered, but under a strict account j that 
 all of it is entered, as it passes, in the divine register j 
 and, therefore, that the stewards of such a talent are to 
 expect a future reckoning ? Behold ! the very heavens 
 are bidden to be the accomptants of our years and months 
 and days. O ! may this induce us to manage them with 
 a vigilant frugality j to part with them, as misers with 
 their hoarded treasure, warily and circumspectly ; and, 
 if possible, as merchants with their rich commodities, not 
 without an equivalent, either in personal improvement or 
 social usefulness ! 
 
 How bright the starry diamonds shine ! The ambition 
 of eastern monarchs could imagine no distinction more 
 noble and sublime than that of being likened to those 
 beaming orbs.* They form night's richest dress-, and 
 sparkle upon her sable robe, like jewels of the finest 
 lustre. Like jewels ! I wrong their character : the lucid 
 stone has no brilliancy 5 quenched is the flame even of 
 the golden topaz, compared with those glowing decora- 
 tions of heaven. How widely are their radiant honours 
 diffused! No nation so remote, but sees their beauty, 
 and rejoices in their usefulness. They have been admired 
 by all preceding generations, and every rising age will 
 gaze on their charms with renewed delight. How ani- 
 mating, then, is that promise made to the faithful ministers 
 of the Gospel ! " They that turn many to righteousness, 
 shall shine as the stars for ever and ever."f Ts not this 
 a most winning encouragement, " to spend and be spent" 
 in the service of souls ? Methinks, the stars beckon, as 
 they twinkle. Methinks, they show me their splendours, 
 on purpose to inspire me with alacrity in the race set 
 before me ; on purpose to enliven my activity in the 
 work that is given me to do. Yes j ye majestic monitors, 
 
 * Nujnb. xxiv. 17. D^n. viii. 10. f Dan. xii. 3, 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 345 
 
 I understand your meaning. If honour has any charms ; 
 if true glory, the glory which coraeth from God, is any 
 attractive J you display the most powerful incitements to 
 exercise all assiduity in my holy vocation. I will hence- 
 forth observe your intimation 5 and, when zeal becomes 
 languid, have recourse to your heavenly lamps, if so be I 
 may rekindle its ardour at those inextinguishable fires. 
 
 Of the Polar star it is observable, that while other lu- 
 minaries alter their situation, this seems invariably ^cT^c?.* 
 "WTiile other luminaries now mount the battlements of 
 heaven, and appear upon duty ; now retire beneath the 
 horizon, and resign to a fresh set the watches of the 
 night J this never departs from its station. This, in every 
 season, maintains an uniform position ; and is always to 
 be found in the same tract of the northern sky. How 
 often has this beamed bright intelligence on the sailor, 
 and conducted the keel to its desired haven ! In early 
 ages, those who went down to the sea in ships, and occu- 
 pied their business in great waters, had scarce any other 
 sure guide for their wandering vessel. This^ therefore, 
 they viewed with the most solicitous attention : by this 
 they formed their observations, and regulated their voyage. 
 When this was obscured by clouds, or enveloped in mists, 
 the trembling mariner was bewildered on the watery waste ; 
 his thoughts fluctuated as much as the floating surge, and 
 he knew not where he w^as advanced, or ivhither he should 
 steer. But, when this auspicious star broke through the 
 gloom, it dissipated the anxiety of his mind, and cleared 
 up his dubious passage : he re-assumed, with alacrity, 
 the management of the helm, and was able to shape his 
 course with some tolerable degree of satisfaction and cer- 
 tainty. 
 
 * I speak in confoiinity to the appearance of the object : for, 
 though this remarkable star revohes round the pole, its motion 
 is so slow, and the circle it describes so small, as render both the 
 revolution and change of situation hardly perceivable. 
 
346 CONTEaiPLATIONS 
 
 Such, only much clearer in its light, and much surer 
 in its direction, is the Holy JVord of God to those myriads 
 of intellectual beings, who are bound for the eternal shores j 
 who, embarked in a vessel of feeble flesh, are to pass 
 the waves of this tempestuous and perilous world. In all 
 difficulties, those sacred pages shed an encouraging ray^ 
 in all uncertainties, they suggest the right determination, 
 and point out the proper procedure. What is still a more 
 inestimable advantage, they, like the star which conducted 
 the Eastern sages, make plain the way of access to a 
 Redeemer : they display his unspeakable merits j they 
 discover the method of being interested in his great atone- 
 ment J and lead the weary soul, tossed by troubles, and 
 shattered by temptations, to that only harbour of peaceful 
 repose. Let us, therefore, attend to this unerring di- 
 rectory, with the same constancy of regard as the sea- 
 faring man observes his compass. Let us become as 
 thoroughly acquainted with this sacred chart, as the pilot 
 is with every trusty mark that gives notice of a lurking 
 rock, and with every opening road that yields a safe 
 passage into the , port. Above all, let us commit our- 
 selves to this infallible guidance with the same implicit 
 resignation j let us conform our conduct to its exalted 
 precepts with the same sedulous care 3 as the children 
 of Israel, when sojourning in the trackless desert, followed 
 the pillar of fire, and the motion of the miraculous cloud. 
 So will it introduce us, not into an earthly Canaan flowing 
 with milk and honey, but into an immortal Paradise^ 
 where is the fulness of joy, and where are pleasures for 
 evermore. It Avill introduce us into those happy, happy 
 regions, where our sun shall no more go down, nor our 
 moon ivithdratv itself ; for the Lord shall be our everlasting 
 light, and the days of our mourning, together with the 
 fatigues of our pilgrimage, shall be ended,^ 
 
 * Isa. Ix. 20. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 347 
 
 1 perceive a great variety in the size and splendour 
 of those gems of heaven. Some are of the first magni- 
 tude, ' others of an inferior order. Some glow with in- 
 tense flames, others glimmer with fainter beams. Yet 
 all are beautiful ; all have their peculiar lustre, and dis- 
 tinct use 5 all tend, in their different degrees, to enamel 
 the cope of heaven, and embroider the robe of night. 
 This circumstance is remarked by an author, whose senti- 
 ments are a source of wisdom, and the very standard of 
 truth. *^'One star," says the apostle to the Gentiles, 
 " differeth from another star in gloiy 5 so also is the resur- 
 rection of the dead." 
 
 In the world above, ar^ various degrees of happiness, 
 various seats of honour. Some will rise to more illus- 
 trious distinctions and richer joys j* some, like vessels 
 of ample capacity, will admit more copious accessions of 
 light and excellence. Yet there will be no want, no de- 
 ficiency, in any j but a fulness both of divine satisfactions 
 and personal perfections. Each will enjoy all the good, 
 and be adorned with all the glory, that his heart can wish, 
 or his condition receive. None will know what it is to 
 envy. Not the least malevolence, nor the least selfish- 
 ness, but everlasting friendship prevails, and a mutual 
 complacency in each other's delight. Love, cordial love, 
 will give every particular saint a participation of all the 
 fruitions which are diffused through the whole assembly 
 of the blessed. f No one eclipses, but each reflects light 
 upon his brother. A sweet interchange of rays subsists, 
 all enlightened by the great fountain^ and all enlightening 
 
 * 1 Cor. XV. 41, 42. — The great Mr. Mede prefers the sense here 
 given, and the learned Dr. Hammond admits it into his paraphrase ; 
 whose joint authority, though far from excluding any other, yet is a 
 suflScient warrant for this application of the words. 
 
 f Tolle invidiam, et tuum est quod habeo : toUe invidiam, et meiim 
 est quod habes. — Augustin. 
 
34S COXTEMPLATIOXS 
 
 one another j by wliich reciprocal commiinicatioa of plea- 
 sure and amit}', each will be continnally receiving from, 
 each incessantly adding to, the general felicity. 
 
 Happy, supremely happy they who are admitted into 
 the celestial mansions. Better to be a door-keeper in 
 those ^' ivory palaces,"'* than to fdl the most gorgeous 
 throne on earth. The very lowest place at God's right 
 hand is distinguished honour and consummate bliss. O ! 
 that we may, in some measure, anticipate that beatific 
 state while we remain in our banishment below ! May 
 we, by rejoicing in the superior prosperity of another^ 
 make it our own ! and, provided the general result is 
 harmony, be content, be pleased, with whatsoever part is 
 assigned to our share, in the universal choir of aflfairs. 
 
 "While I am considering the heavenly bodies, I must not 
 entirely forget those fundamental laws of our modern as- 
 tronomy, projection and attraction ; one of which is the 
 all-combining cement, the other is the ever-operative spring 
 of the mighty frame. In the beginning, the all-creating 
 fiat impressed a proper degree of motion on each of those 
 whirling orbs : which if not controlled, would have carried 
 them on in straight lines and to endless lengths, till they 
 were even lost in the abyss of space ; but the gravitating 
 property being added to the projectile force, determined 
 their courses to a circular formif and obliged the re- 
 
 * Psal. xlv. 8. 
 
 •f- I am aware the planetary orbs are not strictly circular, but 
 rather elliptical. However, as they are but a small remove from the 
 perfectly round figure, and partake of it incomparably more than 
 the trajectories of the comet.«, I choose to represent the thine in this 
 Tiew ; especially, because the notion of a circle is so much more 
 intellieible to the generality of readers than that of an ellipsis ; and 
 because I laid it down as a rule, not to admit any such abstruse 
 sentiment or difficult expression, as should demand a painful atten- 
 tion, instead of raising an agreeable idea. For which reason, I have 
 avoided technical terms, have taken no notice of Jupiter's satellites, 
 or Saturn's ring; have not so much as mentioned the names of 
 
ox THE STARRY HEAVEN'S. 349 
 
 luctant rovers to perform their destined rounds. Were 
 either of those causes to suspend their action, all the 
 harmoniously moving spheres would be disconcerted, would 
 degenerate into sluggish inactive masses, and, falling into 
 the central fire, be burnt to ashes ; or else, would ex- 
 orbit ate into wild confusion, and each, by the rapidity of 
 its Avhirl, be dissipated into atoms. But the impulsive 
 and attractive energy' being most nicely attemp>ered to each 
 other, and, under the immediate operation of the Almighty, 
 exerting themselves in perpetual concert, the various globes 
 run their radiant races without the least interruption or 
 the least deviation j so as to create the alternate changes 
 of da^ and fifg-ht, and distribute the useful vicissitudes 
 of succeedinsr seasons ; so as to answer all the great ends 
 of a gracious Providence, and procure every comfortable 
 convenience for universal nature. 
 
 Does not this constitution of the material very naturally 
 lead the thoughts to those grand principles of the moral 
 and devotional world, faith and love 9 These are often 
 celebrated by the inspired apostle, as a comprehensive 
 summary of the Gospel.* These inspirit the breast, and 
 regulate the progress of each private Christian. These 
 unite the whole conoregation of the faithful to God and 
 one another : to God, the great centre in the bonds of 
 gratitude and devotion ; to one another, by a reciprocal 
 intercourse of brotherly affections and friendly offices. If 
 vou ask, why it is impossible for the true believer to live 
 at all adventures, to stagnate in sloth, or habitually to 
 deviate from duty : we answer, it is owing to " his faith 
 working by love.'f He assuredly trusts that Christ has 
 sustained the infamy and endured the torment due to his 
 
 the planets, nor attempted to wade into any depths of the science ; 
 lest to those who have no opportunity of using the telescope, or 
 of acquainting themselves ^"ith a system of astronomy, I should pro- 
 pound riddles, rather than display efUertaining and edifying truths. 
 • Col. i. 4. Philem. ver. 5, f GaL v. 6. 
 
350 eONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 sins. He firmly relies on that divine propitiation for the 
 pardon of all his guilt, and humbly expects everlasting 
 salvation, as the purchase of his Saviour's merits. This 
 produces such a spirit of gratitude, as refines his inclina- 
 tions, and animates his whole behaviour. He cannot, he 
 cannot run to excess of riot, because love to his adorable 
 Redeemer, like a strong but silken curb, sweetly restrains 
 him J he cannot, he cannot lie lulled in a lethargic in- 
 dolence, because love to the same infinite Benefactor, 
 like a pungent but endearing spur, pleasingly excites him. 
 In a word, faith supplies the powerful impulse, while love 
 gives the determining bias, and leads the willing feet 
 through the whole circle of God's commandments. By 
 the united efficacy of these heavenly graces, the Christian 
 conduct is preserved in the uniformity and beauty of 
 holiness, as by the blended power of those Newtonian 
 jmnciples, the solar system revolves in a steady and 
 magnificent regularity. 
 
 How admirable, how extensive, how diversified, is the 
 force of this single principle, attraction .'* This penetrates 
 the very essence of all bodies, and difiiises itself to the 
 remotest limits of the mundane system. By this, the 
 worlds impressed with motion, hang self-balanced on their 
 centres jf and, though orbs of immense magnitude, require 
 nothing but this amazing property for their support. To 
 this we ascribe a phaenomenon of a very difi'erent kind, 
 the pressure of the atmosphere ; which, though a yielding 
 and expansive fluid, yet, constipated by an attractive 
 energy, surrounds the whole globe, and encloses every 
 creature as it were with a tight bandage j an expedient 
 this, absolutely necessary to preserve the texture of our 
 bodies, and indeed to maintain every species of animal 
 existence. Attraction ! Urged by this wonderful impetus^, 
 
 * I mean the attraction both of gravitation and cohesion, 
 f Ponderibus Ubrata mis. 
 
ON' THE STARRY HEAVExNS. 351 
 
 the rivers circulate, copious and unintermitted, among all 
 the nations of the earth • sweeping with rapidity down 
 the steeps , or softly ebbing through the plains. Impelled 
 by the same mysterious force, the nutritious Juices are 
 ^detached from the soil, and, ascending the trees, find their 
 way through millions of the finest meanders, in order to 
 transfuse vegetative life into all the branches. This con- 
 fines the ocea)i vrithin proper bounds ; though the waves 
 thereof roar, though they toss themselves with all the 
 madness of indignant rage; yet, checked by this potent, 
 this inevitable curb, they are unable to pass even the 
 slightest barrier of sand. To this the mountains owe that 
 unshaken firmness, which laughs at the shock of careering 
 winds, and bids the tempest, with all its mingled horrors, 
 impotently rave : by virtue of this invisible mechanism, 
 without the aid of crane or pulley, or any instrument of 
 human device, many thousand tons of water are raised 
 every moment into the regions of the firmament : by this 
 they continue suspended in thin air, without any capacious 
 cistern to contain their substance, or any massy pillars 
 to sustain their weight : by this same variously acting 
 power, they return to the place of their native residence, 
 distilled in gentle falls of dew, or precipitated in impetuous 
 showers of rain ; they slide into the fields in fleecy flights 
 of snow, or are darted upon the houses in clattering storms 
 of hail : this occasions the strong cohesion of solid bodies ; 
 without which our large machines could exert themselves 
 with no vigour, and the nicer utensils of life would elude 
 our expectations of service : this afibrds a foundation for 
 all those delicate or noble mechanic arts, which furnish 
 mankind with numberless conveniences both of ornament 
 and delight : in short, this is the prodigious ballast, which 
 composes the equilibrium, and constitutes the stability 
 of things ; this the great chain which forms the connections 
 of universal nature ; and the mighty engine which prompts, 
 facilitates, and, in good measure, accomplishes all her 
 
352 CQNTEMPLATIOKS 
 
 operations. What complicated effects from a single cause !* 
 What profusion amidst frugality ! an unknown profusion of 
 benefits with the utmost frugality of expense ! 
 
 And what is this attraction? Is it a quality, in its 
 existence, inseparable from matter j and, in its acting, 
 independent on the Deity ? Quite the reverse : it is the 
 very finger of God j the constant impression of divine 
 power ; a principle, neither innate in matter, nor intfcl- 
 ligible by mortals. Does it not, however, bear a con- 
 siderable analogy to the agency of the Holy Ghost in the 
 Christian economy? Are not the gracious operations of 
 the blessed Spirit thus ea^tensive, thus admirable, thus 
 various 9 That Almighty Being transmits his gifts through 
 every age, and communicates his graces to every adherent 
 on the Redeemer ; all, either of illustrious memory, or 
 of beneficial tendency j in a word, '' all the good that 
 is done upon earth, he doth it himself." Strong in his 
 aid, and in the power of his might, the saints of all times 
 have trod vice under their feet, have triumphed over this 
 abject world, and conversed in heaven while they dwelt 
 on earth. Not I, but the grace of God which tvas vnth 
 mcj-f is the unanimous acknowledgment of them all. By 
 the same kindly succours, the whole church is still enlight- 
 ened, quickened, and governed. Through his benign in- 
 fluences, the scales of ignorance fall from the understand- 
 ing, the leprosy of evil concupiscence is purged from the 
 will, and the fetters, the more than adamantine fetters, 
 of habitual iniquity, drop off from the conversation. He 
 breathes even upon dry bones, | and they live 3 they are 
 animated with faith, they pant with ardent and heavenly 
 
 * See another remarkable instance of this kind in the Rejections 
 on a Flower-GardeUy page 116 j together with a fine observation quoted 
 in the corresponding note, 
 t I Cor. x\. 10. 
 
 + See that beautiful piece of sacred and allegorical imagery dis- 
 played, Ezek. xxxvii. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 353 
 
 desire, they exercise themselves in all the duties of god- 
 liness. His real, though secret inspiration, dissolves the 
 flint in the impenitent breast, and binds up the sorrows 
 of the broken heart ; raises the thoughts high in the 
 elevations of holy hope, yet lays them low in the humilia- 
 tions of inward abasement ; steels the soul with impene- 
 trable resolutions and persevering fortitude, at the same 
 time softens it into a dove-lilie meekness, and melts it in 
 penitential sorrow. 
 
 When I contemplate those ample and magnificent struc- 
 tures, erected over all the aethereal plains ; when I look 
 upon them as so many splendid repositories of light, or 
 fruitful abodes of life 3 when 1 remember that there may 
 be other orbs, vastly more remote than those which ap- 
 pear to our unaided sight j orbs, whose effulgence, though 
 travelling ever since the creation, is not yet arrived upon 
 our coasts :* when I stretch my thoughts to the innumer- 
 able orders of being which inhabit all those spacious 
 systems, from the loftiest seraph to the lowest reptile j 
 from the armies of angels which surround the throne of 
 
 * If this conjecture (which has no less a person than the celebrated 
 Mr. Huygens for its author) concerning unseen stars, be true ; if 
 to this observation be added what is affirmed by our skilful as- 
 tronomers, that the motion of the rays of light is so surprisingly 
 swift as to pass through ten millions of miles in a single minute — 
 how vast ! beyond imagination vast and unmeasurable, are the spaces 
 of the universe ! While the mind is distended with the grand idea, 
 or rather, while she is dispatching her ablest powers of piercing 
 judgment and excursive fancy, and finds them all drop short, all 
 baffled by the amazing subject; permit me to apply that spirited 
 exclamation, and noble remark : 
 
 ■ Say, proud arch. 
 
 Built with divine ambition, in disdain 
 
 Of limit built, built in the taste of heav'n ! 
 
 Vast concave '. ample dome '. wast thou design'd 
 
 A meet apartment for the Deity ? 
 
 Not so : that thought alone thy state impairs ; 
 
 ■^rhy lopy sinks, and shallows thy profound ; 
 
 And streightens thy diffusive. 
 
 Night Thoughts, No IX, 
 
 2a 
 
354 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 Jehovah, to the puny nations which tinge with blue the 
 surface of the plum, or mantle the standing pool with 
 green :* — how various appear the links in this immense 
 chain ! how vast the gradations in this universal scale 
 of existence ! Yet all these, though ever so vast and 
 ' various, are the work of God's hand, and are full of his 
 presence. 
 
 He rounded in his palm those dreadfully large globes^ 
 which are pendulous in the vault of heaven. He kindled 
 those astonishingly bright fires which fill the firmament 
 with a flood of glory. By him they are suspended mjluid 
 aether, and cannot be shaken ; by him they dispense a 
 perpetual tide of beams, and are never exhausted. He 
 formed, with inexpressible nicety, that delicately fine col- 
 lection of tubes, that unknown multiplicity of subtle springs, 
 which organize and actuate the frame of the minutest in- 
 sect 3 he bids the crimson current roll, the vital move- 
 ments play, and associates a world of wonders, even in 
 an animated point.-f In all these is a signal exhibition 
 
 * Ev'u the blue down the purple plum surrounds, 
 A living icorld, thy falling sight confounds : 
 To him a peopled habitation shows, 
 Where millions taste the bounty God bestows. 
 
 See a beautiful and instructive poem, styled Deity. 
 
 -f- There are living creatures, abundantly smaller than the mite. 
 Mr. Bradley, in his Treatise on Gardening, mentions an insect, 
 which, after accurate examination, he found to be a thousand times 
 less than the least visible grain of sand. Yet such an insect, though 
 quite imperceptible to the naked eye, is an elephant, is a whale, 
 compared with other animalcules almost infinitely more minute, 
 discovered by Mr. Lewenhoeck. If we consider the several limbs 
 which compose such an organized particle, the different muscles 
 which actuate such a set of limbs, the flow of spirits incomparably 
 more attenuated which put those muscles in motion, the various 
 fluids which circulate, the different secretions which are performed, 
 together with the peculiar minuteness of the solids before they 
 arrive at their full growth ; not to mention other more astonishing 
 modes of diminution — sure, we shall have the utmost reason to 
 acknowledge, that the adored Maker is Maximus in minimis^ greatly 
 glorious even in his smallest works. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 355 
 
 of creating power ; to all these are extended the special 
 regards of preserving goodness. From hence let me learn 
 to rely on the providence, and to revere the presence, of the 
 Supreme Majesty. 
 
 To rely on his providence. — For amidst that inconceiv- 
 able number and variety of beings which swarm through 
 the regions of creation, not one is overlooked, not one is 
 neglected, by the great omnipotent Cause of all. How^- 
 ever inconsiderable in its character, or diminutive in its 
 size, it is still the production of the universal Maker, and 
 belongs to the family of the Almighty Father. WTiat 
 though enthroned archangels enjoy the smiles of his counte- 
 nance] Yet the low inhabitants of earth, the most des- 
 picable worms of the ground, are not excluded from his 
 providential care. Though the manifestation of his per- 
 fections is vouchsafed to holy and intellectual essences, 
 his ear is open to the cries of the young raven ; his eye 
 is attentive to the wants and to the welfare of the vei-y 
 meanest births of nature. How much less then are his 
 own people disregarded 3 those for whom he has delivered 
 his beloved Son to death, and for whom he has prepared 
 habitations of eternal joy ! They disregarded ! No ; they 
 are " kept as the apple of an eye 3" the very hairs of their 
 head are all numbered. The fondest mother may forget 
 the infant that is " dandled upon her knees," and sucks 
 at her breast,* much sooner than the Father of everlasting 
 
 * 75«. xlix. 15 — Can a woman forget her sucking child y that she 
 should not have compassion on the son of her womb ? Yea, they may 
 forget; yet icill I not forget thee. — How delicate and expressive are 
 the images in this charming Scripture ! How full of beauty, if be- 
 held in a critical, how rich with cofisolation, if considered in a 
 believing view ! Can a ivoman ,- one of the softer sex, whose nature 
 is most impressible, and whose passions are remarkably tender ; can 
 such a one, not barely disregard, but entirely forget,- not suspend 
 her care for a while, but utterly erase the very memory of her child, 
 her own child, not another's ; a child that was formed in her womb, 
 and is a part of herself.' — Her son, the more important, and there- 
 fore more desirable species, to whom it peculiarly belongs to preserve 
 
 2a 2 
 
356 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 compassions can discontinue or remit his watchful tender- 
 ness to his people, his children, his heirs. 
 
 Let this teach me also a more lively sense of the divine 
 presence. All the rolling worlds above, all the living 
 atoms below, together with all the beings that intervene 
 betwixt these wide extremes, are vouchers for an ever- 
 present Deity. *' God has not left himself without wit- 
 ness :" the marks of his footsteps are evident in every 
 place, and the touches of his finger distinguishable in 
 every creature. '' Thy name is so high, O thou all-sup- 
 porting, all-informing Lord, and that do thy wondrous works 
 declare.''' Thy goodness warms in the morning sun, and 
 refreshes in the evening breeze j thy glory shines in the 
 lamps of midnight, and smiles in the blossoms of spring. 
 We see a trace of thy incomprehensible grandeur in the 
 boundless extent of things ; and a sketch of thy exquisite 
 skill in those almost evanescent sparks of life, the insect 
 race." How stupid is this heart of mine, that, amidst 
 
 the name, and build up the family? — Her only son, for the word 
 is singular, and refers to a case, where the offspring not being 
 numerous, but centered in a single birth, must be productive of the 
 fondest endearment; can she divest herself of all concern for such 
 a child, not when he is grown up to maturity, or gone abroad from 
 her house^ but while he continues in an infantile state, and must 
 owe his whole safety to her kind attendance ; while he lies in her 
 bosom, rests on her arm, and even sucks at her breast ? Especially 
 if the poor innocent be racked with pain, or seized by some severe 
 affliction, and so become an object of compassion, as well as of love ; 
 can she hear its piercing cries, can she see it all restless, all helpless 
 under its misery, and feel no emotions of parental pity ? If one 
 such monster of inhumanity might be found, could all, (here the 
 prophet, to give his comparison the utmost energy, changes the 
 singular number into the plural .: it is not «»n CDJ, or rin« CDJ, 
 but xh"^ cai) could all mothers be so degenerate ? This, sure can- 
 not be suspected, need not be feared. Much less need the true 
 believer be apprehensive of the failure of my kindness. An universal 
 extinction of those strongest affections of nature, is a more suppose- 
 able case, than that I should ever be unmindful of my people, or 
 regardless of their interests. 
 * Psal. Ixxv. 2. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 357 
 
 such a multitude of remembrancers^ thronging on every 
 sidcj I should forget thee a single moment ! Grant me, 
 thou great / Atn, thou source and support of universal 
 existence ! — ! grant me an enlightened eye, to discern 
 thee in every object, and a devout heart, to adore thee 
 on every occasion. Instead of living without God in the 
 world, may I be ever with him, and see all things full 
 of him ! 
 
 The glittering stars. 
 
 By the deep ear of meditation heard. 
 Still in their midnight watches sing of him. 
 He nods a calm. The tempest blows his wrath. 
 The thunder is his voice ; and the red flash 
 His speedy sword of justice. At his touch 
 The mountains flame. He shakes the solid earth. 
 And rocks the nations. Nor in these alone. 
 In ev'ry common instance God is seen. 
 
 Thomson's Spring, 
 
 If the beautiful spangles, which a clear night pours on 
 the beholder's eye 3 if those other fires, which beam in 
 remoter skies, and are discoverable only by that revelation 
 to the sight, the telescope ; if all those bright millions 
 are so many fountains of day, enriched with native and 
 independent lustre, illuminating planets, and enlivening 
 systems of their owhj* what pomp, how majestic and 
 splendid, is disclosed in the midnight scene ! What 
 riches are disseminated through all those numberless pro- 
 vinces of the great Jehovah's empire ! Grandeur beyond 
 expression ! Yet, there is not the meanest slave, but 
 carries greater wealth in his own bosom, possesses superior 
 dignity in his own person. The soul, that informs his 
 
 * Consult with reason ; reason wiU reply, 
 Each lucid point which glows in yonder sky. 
 Informs a system in the boundless space. 
 And fills with glory its appointed place ; 
 With beams unborrow'd brightens other skies. 
 And worlds, to thee unknown, with heat and life supplies. 
 
 The Universe. 
 
358 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 clay J the soul, that teaches him to think, and enables him 
 to choose ; that qualifies him to relish rational pleasure, 
 and to breathe sublime desire j* — the soul, that is en- 
 dowed with such noble faculties j and, above all, is dis- 
 tinguished with the dreadful, the glorious capacity, of 
 being pained or blessed for ever; this soul surpasses in 
 worth, whatever the eye can see 5 whatever of material 
 the fancy can imagine. Before one such intellectual being, 
 all the treasure and all the magnificence of unintelligent 
 creation becomes poor and contemptible. f For this soul. 
 Omnipotence itself has waked and worked through every 
 age. To convince this soul, the fundamental laws of nature 
 have been controlled, and the most amazing miracles have 
 alarmed all the ends of the earth. To instruct this soul, 
 the wisdom of heaven has been transfused into the sacred 
 page, and missionaries have been sent from the Great 
 King, who resides in light unapproachable. To sanctify 
 tliis soul, the Almighty Comforter takes the wings of a 
 dove 3 and, with a sweet transforming influence, broods 
 on the human heart. And O ! to redeem this soul from 
 guilt ; to rescue it from hell ; the heaven of heavens was 
 bowed, and God himself came down to dwell in dust. 
 
 Let me pause a while upon this important subject. 
 "V^Ttiat are the schemes which engage the attention of 
 eminent statesmen and mighty monarchs, compared with the 
 
 * In tMs respect, as vested with such capacities, the soul even 
 of fallen men, has an unquestionable greatness and dignity j is 
 majestic, though in ruin. 
 
 •f" I beg leave to transcribe a pertinent passage, from that cele- 
 brated master of reason and universal litei-ature. Dr. Bentley : whom 
 no one can be tempted to suspect, either tinctured with enthusiasm, 
 or warped to bigotry. — " If we consider," says he, ** the dignity of 
 an intelligent being, and put that in the scale against brute and 
 inanimate matter, we may affirm, without overvaluing human nature, 
 that the soul of one virtuous and religious man is of greater worth 
 and excellency, than the sun, and his planets, and all the stars in the 
 world." 
 
 See his Sermons at BoyUs Lect, No 8. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 359 
 
 grand interests of an immortal soul ? The support of com- 
 merce^ and the success of armies, though extremely weighty 
 affairs ; yet, if laid in the balance against the salvation 
 of a soul, are lighter than the (fo vny feather poised against 
 talents of gold. To save a navy from shipivreck, or a 
 kingdom from slavery, are deliverances of the most mo- 
 mentous nature which the transactions of mortality can 
 admit. But O ! how they shrink into an inconsiderable 
 trifle, if (their aspect upon immortality forgot) they are 
 set in competition with the delivery of a single soul, from 
 the anguish and horrors of a distressed eternity /* 
 
 Is such the importance of the soul ? What vigilance 
 then can be too much ; or rather what holy solicitude can 
 be sufficient, for the overseers of the Saviour's flock, and 
 the guardians of this great, this venerable, this invaluable 
 charge ? Since such is the importance of the soul, wilt 
 thou not, O man, be watchful for the preservation of thy 
 own ? Shall every casual incident awaken thy concern 5 
 every transitory toy command thy regard 3 and shall the 
 welfare of thy soul, a work of continual occurrence, a 
 work of endless consequence, sue in vain, for thy serious 
 care ? Thy soul, thy soul, is thy all. If this be secured^ 
 thou art greatly rich, and wilt be unspeakably happy. 
 If this be lost, a whole world acquired will leave thee in 
 poverty} and all its delights enjoyed, will abandon thee 
 to misery. 
 
 I have often been charmed, and awed, at the sight of 
 the nocturnal heavens 3 even before I knew how to con- 
 sider them in their proper circumstance of majesty and 
 beauty. Something, like magic, has struck my mind, on 
 a transient and unthinking survey of the sethereal vault j 
 tinged throughout with the purest azure, and decorated 
 
 « Not all yon luminaries quench'd at once. 
 Were half so sad as one benighted miud. 
 Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair. 
 
 Night Thoughts-, N" IX. 
 
3G0 ^. rCONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 with innumerable starry lamps. I have felt, I know not 
 what, powerful and aggrandizing impulse, which seemed 
 to snatch me from the low entanglements of vanity, and 
 prompted an ardent sigh for suoUmer objects. Methought 
 I heard, even from the silent spheres, a commanding call, 
 to spurn the abject earth, and pant after unseen delights. 
 Henceforward, I hope to imbibe more copiously this moral 
 emanation of the skies ; when, in some such manner as the 
 preceding, they are rationally seen, and the sight is duly 
 improved. The stars, I trust, will teach as well as shine ; 
 and help to dispel, both nature's gloom, and my intellec- 
 tual darkness. To some people, they discharge no better 
 a service than that of holding a flambeau to their feet, 
 and softening the horrors of their night. To me and my 
 friends, may they act as ministers of a superior order 5 
 as counsellors of wisdom, and guides to happiness ! Nor 
 will they fail to execute this nobler office, if they gently 
 light our way into the knowledge of their adored Maker j 
 if they point out, with their silver rays, our path to his 
 beatific presence. 
 
 I gaze, I ponder. I ponder, I gaze j and think ineffable 
 things. I roll an eye of awe and admiration. Again and 
 again I repeat my ravished views, and can never satiate 
 either my curiosity or my inquiry. I spring my thoughts 
 into this immense field, till even fancy tires upon her 
 wing : 1 find wonders, ever new ; wonders more and tnore 
 amazing. Yet, after all my present inquiries, what a mere 
 nothing do I know 3 by all my future searches, how little 
 shall I be able to learn of those vastly distant suns, and 
 their circling retinue of worlds ! Could I pry with New- 
 tons piercing sagacity, or launch into his extensive sur- 
 veys 5 even then, my apprehensions would be little better 
 than those dim and scanty images, which the mole, just 
 emerged from her cavern, receives on her feeble optic — 
 This, sure, should repress all impatient or immoderate 
 ardour to pry into the secrets of the starry structures, and 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 361 
 
 make me more particularly careful to cultivate my heart. 
 To fathom the depths of the Divine Essence j or to scan 
 universal nature, with a critical exactness j is an -attempt, 
 which sets the acutest philosopher very nearly on a level 
 with the idiot; since it is almost, if not altogether, as 
 impracticable by the former as by the latter. » 
 
 Be it, then, my chief study, not to pursue what is 
 absolutely unattainable ; but rather to seek, what is ob- 
 vious to find, easy to be acquired, and of inestimable 
 advantage when possessed. O ! let me seek that charity, 
 which edffieth J* ^Aa^yaiM, which purifieth. Love, humble 
 love, not conceited science, keeps the door of heaven. 
 Faith, a child-like faith in Jesus ; not the haughty self- 
 sufficient spirit, which scorns to be ignorant of any things 
 presents a keyf to those abodes of bliss. This present 
 state is the scene destined to the e^'ercise of devotion ; 
 the invisible world is the place appointed for the enjoyment 
 of knoivledge. There, the da^\^l of our infantile minds 
 will be advanced to the maturity of perfect day j or rather, 
 there our midnight shades will be brightened into all the 
 lustre of noon. There, the souls which come from the 
 
 * 1 Cor. viii. 1. — I need not inform my reader, that in this text, 
 in that admirable chapter, 1 Cor. xiii. and in various other passages 
 of Scripture, the word Charity should by no means be confined to 
 the peculiar act of alms-giving, or external beneficence. It is of 
 a much more exalted and extensive nature. It signifies that dinnely 
 precious grace, which warms the soul with supreme love to God, 
 and enlarges it with disinterested affection for men ; which renders 
 it the reigning care of the life, and chief delight of the heart, to 
 promote the happiness of the one, and the glory of the other. TliiSy 
 this is that charity of which so many excellent things are every where 
 spoken ; which can never be too highly extolled, or too earnestly 
 coveted, since it is the image of God, and the very spirit of heaven. 
 
 t The righteousness of Christ. This is what Milton beautifully 
 styles 
 
 The golden key 
 
 That opes the palace of eternity. 
 
362 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 school of faith, and bring w^ith them the principles of love, 
 will dwell in light itself j will be obscured with no dark- 
 ness at all ; will know, even as they are known.* Such 
 an acquaintance, therefore, do 1 desire to form, and to 
 carry on such a correspondence with the heavenly bodies, 
 as may shed a benign influence on the seeds »i grace im- 
 planted in my breast. Let the exalted tracks of the firma- 
 ment sink my soul into deep humiliation ; let those eternal 
 fires kindle in my heart an adoring gratitude to their 
 Almighty Sovereign -, let yonder ponderous and enormous 
 globes, wliich rest on his supporting arm, teach me an 
 unshaken affiance in their incarnate Maker. Then shall 
 I be— -if not wise as the astronomical adept, yet wise unto 
 salvation. 
 
 Having now walked and worshipped in this universal 
 temj)le, that is arched with skies, emblazed with stars, and 
 extended even to immensity -, having cast an eye, like the 
 enraptured patriarch, f an eye of reason and devotion, 
 through the magnificent scene; with the former, having 
 discovered an infinitude of worlds ; and with the latter, 
 having met the Deity in every view j having beheld, as 
 Moses in the flaming bush, a glimpse of Jehovah's ex- 
 cellencies, reflected from the several planets, and stream- 
 ing from myriads of celestial luminaries ; having read 
 various lessons in that stupendous Book of fFisdom^X 
 where unmeasurable sheets of azure compose the page, 
 and orbs of radiance write, in everlasting characters, a 
 comment on our creed— -what remains, but that 1 close 
 the midnight solemnity, as our Lord concluded his grand 
 sacramental institution, with a song of praise ? And be- 
 hold a hymn, suited to the sublime occasion, indited by 
 
 * 1 Cor. xiii. 12. f Gen. xv. 5. 
 
 + — — — — For heaven 
 Is as the hook of God before thee set. 
 Wherein to read his wondrous works.— Milton. 
 
ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 363 
 
 inspiration itself,^ transferred into our language by one of 
 the happiest efforts of haman ingenuity. f 
 
 The spacious firmament on high. 
 With all the blue sethereal sky. 
 And spanded heav'ns, a shining frame, 
 Their great Original proclaim : 
 Th' unwearied sun from day to day. 
 Does his Creator's poVr display ; 
 And publishes to ev'ry land. 
 The work of an Almighty hand. 
 
 Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail. 
 The moon takes up the w^ondrous tale ; 
 And nightly, to the list'ning earth. 
 Repeats the story of her birth : 
 "While all the stars, that round her burn. 
 And all the planets in their turn. 
 Confirm the tidings as they roll. 
 And spread the truth from pole to pole. 
 
 What though, in solemn silence, all 
 Move round the dark terrestrial ball } 
 What though, nor real voice nor sound 
 Amid their radiant orbs be found ? 
 In reason's ear they all rejoice. 
 And utter forth a glorious voice. 
 For ever singing, as they shine, 
 T/ie hand that made us, is divine. 
 
 * Psal. xix. 
 
 t Addison, Sped. \'oI. VI. N« 465. 
 
T T rr _ rr '^ 
 
WINTER-PIECE. 
 
I>awn "bv R.WestaB KA. 
 
 Engraved "by Cha?Heafli. 
 
 IMUm'^Ii'^ ^ MUlDE^A^ir®!^^ 
 
 LET THEIR LOINS BlIESS YOU FOR COMFORTABLE CLOATHING. 
 
 Vfinter Fiece 
 
 FtTBLISHED MARCH 20,1818, BY E.EJD WARDS, HEW'&ATF. S'lTSEET. 
 
WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 'Tis true, in the delightful seasons, his tenderness and his 
 love are most eminently displayed. In the vernal months, 
 all is beauty to the eye, and music to the ear. The 
 clouds drop fatness j the air softens into balm ; and 
 flowers, in rich abundance, spring wherever we tread, 
 bloom wherever we look. Amidst the burning heats of 
 summer, he expands the leaves, and thickens the shades. 
 He spreads the cooling arbour to receive us, and awakes 
 the gentle breeze to fan us j the moss swells into a couch 
 for the repose of our bodies, while the rivulet softly rolls 
 and sweetly murmurs, to soothe our imagination. In au- 
 tumn, his bounty covers the fields with a profusion of 
 nutrimental treasure, and bends the boughs with loads of 
 delicious fruit ; he furnishes his hospitable board with 
 present plenty, and prepares a copious magazine for future 
 wants. But is it only in these smiling periods of the year, 
 that God, the all-gracious God, is seen ? Has winter, stern 
 winter, no tokens of his presence? Yes; all things are 
 eloquent of his praise. '^ His way is in the whirlwind." 
 Storms and tempests fulfil his word, and extol his power. 
 Even piercing frosts bear witness to his goodness, while 
 they bid the shivering nations tremble at his wrath. B^ 
 
368 A WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 winter then^ for a while, our theme,* Perhaps, those 
 barren scenes may be/rwi^/M/ of intellectual improvement. 
 Perhaps, that rigorous cold, which binds the earth in icy 
 chains, may serve to enlarge our hearts, and warm them 
 with holy love. 
 
 See! how the day is shortened] The sun, detained in 
 fairer climes, or engaged in more agreeable services, rises, 
 like an unwilling visitant, with tardy and reluctant steps. 
 He walks, with a shy indifference, along the edges of the 
 southern skyj casting an oblique glance, he just looks 
 upon our dejected world, and scarcely scatters light through 
 the thick air. Dim is his appearance, languid are his 
 gleams, while he continues. Or, if he chance to wear 
 a brighter aspect, and a cloudless brow 3 yet, like the 
 young and gay in the house of mourning, he seems uneasy 
 till he is gone 5 is in haste to depart. And let him depart. 
 Why should we wish for his longer stay, since he can show 
 us nothing but the creation in distress? The flowery 
 families lie dead, and the tuneful tribes are struck dumb. 
 The trees, stripped of their verdure, and lashed by storms, 
 spread their naked arms to the enraged and relentless 
 heavens. Fragrance no longer floats in the air 3 but chill- 
 ing damps hover, or cutting gales blow. Nature, divested 
 of all her beautiful robes, sits, like a forlorn disconsolate 
 widow, in her weeds j while winds in doleful accents 
 howl, and rains in repeated showers weep. 
 
 We regret not, therefore, the speedy departure of the 
 day. When the room is hung with funeral black, and 
 
 * A sketch of this nature, I must acknowledge, is quite different from 
 the subject of the book, and I cannot but declare, was as far distant 
 from the thoughts of the author. But the desire of several acquaint- 
 ance together with an intimation of its usefulness, by a very polite 
 letter from an unknown hand, prevailed with me to add a few 
 descriptive touches and improving hints, on what is so often ex- 
 perienced in these northern regions. I hope, the attempt I have 
 made to oblige these gentlemen, will obtain the approbation, or at 
 least the eircuse, of my other readers. 
 
A WINTER-PIECE. 369 
 
 dismal objects are all rounds who would desire to have 
 the glhnmei'ing taper kept alive ; which can only discover 
 spectacles of sorrow^ can only make the horror visible ? 
 And, since this mortal life is little better than a continual 
 conflict with sin, or an unremitted struggl.6 with misery ; 
 is it not a gracious ordination w^hich has reduced our age 
 to a »pan ? Fourscore years of trial for the virtuous are 
 sufficiently long 3 and more than such a term, allowed to 
 the wicked, would render them beyond all measure vile. 
 Our way to the kingdom of heaven lies through tribula- 
 tions. Shall we then accuse, shall we not rather hless, 
 the Providence which has made the passage short \ Soon^ 
 soon we cross the, vale of tears, and then arrive on the 
 happy hills, where light for ever shines, where joy for ever 
 ■smiles. 
 
 Sometimes the day is rendered shorter still, is almost 
 blotted out from the year.* The vapours gather^ they 
 thicken into an impenetrable gloom, and obscure the face 
 of the sky. At length, the rains descend, the sluices of 
 the firmament are opened, and the low-hung clouds pour 
 their congregated stores. Copious and unintermitted, still 
 they pour, and still are unexhausted. The waters drop 
 incessantly from the eaves, and rush in rapid streams from 
 the spouts. They roar along the channelled pavements, 
 and stand in fonl shallows amidsf the village streets. Now, 
 if the inattentive eye or negligent hand has left the roof 
 but scantily covered, the insinuating element finds its way 
 into every flaw, and, oozing through the ceiling, at once up- 
 braids and -chastises the careless inhabitant. The plough- 
 man, soaked to the skin, leaves his half-tilled acre. The 
 poor poultry, dripping with wet, crowd into shelter. The 
 tenants of the bough fold up their wings, afraid to launch 
 into the streaming air. The beasts, joyless and dispirited. 
 
 * Involvere diem nimhi^ it nox humida ccelum 
 Abstiilit , Vi R G . 
 
 2b 
 
370 A WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 ruminate under their sheds. The roads swim^ and the 
 brooks swell. The river, amidst all this watery ferment, 
 long contained itself within its appointed bounds j but, 
 swollen by innumerable currents, and roused, at last, into 
 uncontrollable rage, bursts over its banks, shoots into 
 the plain, bears down all opposition, spreads itself far 
 and wide, and buries the meadow under a brown, sluggish, 
 soaking deluge. 
 
 How happy for man, that this inundation comes, when 
 there are no flowery crops in the valley to be overwhelmed j 
 no fields standing thick with corn to be laid waste ! At 
 5M(?/i a juncture, it would have been ruin to the husband- 
 man and his family j but, thus timed, it yields manure for 
 his ground, and promises him riches in reversion. How 
 often, and how long, has the Divine Majesty borne with 
 the most injurious affronts from sinners ! His goodness 
 triumphed over their perverseness, and graciously refused 
 to be exasperated. But, O presumptuous creatures, multi- 
 ply no longer your provocations. Urge not, by repeated 
 iniquities, the Almighty arm to strike 3 lest his long-suffer- 
 ing cease, and his fierce anger break forth ^ break forth, 
 like ^ flood of waters j'^ and sweep you away into irrecover- 
 able and everlasting perdition. 
 
 How mighty ! how majestic ! and O ! how mysterious, 
 are thy works, thou God of heaven and Lord of nature ! 
 When the air is calm, where sleep the stormy winds ? In 
 what chambers are they reposed, or in what dungeons 
 confined 5 till thou art pleased to awaken their rage, and 
 throw open their prison doors? Then, with irresistible 
 impetuosity they fly forth, scattering dread and menacing 
 destruction. 
 
 The atmosphere is hurled into the most tumultuous con- 
 fusion. The aerial torrent bursts its way over mountains, 
 seas, and continents. All things feel the dreadful shock. 
 
 * Hos. V. 10. 
 
A WINTER-PiECE. 3/1 
 
 All things tremble before the furious blast. The forest, 
 vexed and torn, groans under the scourge. Her sturdy- 
 sons are strained to the very root, and almost sweep the 
 soil they were wont to shade. The stubborn oak, that 
 disdains to bend, is dashed headlong to the ground ; and, 
 with shattered arms, with prostrate trunk, blocks the road ; 
 while the flexile reed, that springs up in the marsh, yield- 
 ing to the gust, (as the meek and pliant temper to injuries, 
 or the resigned and patient spirit to misfortunes,) eludes 
 the force of the storm, and survives amidst the wide-spread 
 havock. 
 
 For a moment, the turbulent and outrageous sky seems 
 to be assuaged ; but it intermits its wrath, only to increase 
 its strength. Soon the sounding squadrons of the air 
 return to the attack, and renew their ravages with re- 
 doubled fury. The stately dome rocks amidst the wheel- 
 ing clouds. The impregnable tower totters on its basis 5 
 and threatens to overwhelm, whom it was intended to 
 protect. The ragged rock is rent in pieces 3* and even 
 the hills, the perpetual hills, on their deep foundations, 
 are scarcely secure. Where, now^ is the place of safetv, 
 when the city reels, and houses become heaps ? Sleep 
 afiPrighted flies. Diversion is turned into horror. All is 
 uproar in the element 5 all is consternation among mortals ; 
 and nothing but one wide scene of rueful devastation 
 through the land. Yet, this is only an inferior minister 
 of divine displeasure j the executioner of milder indig- 
 nation. How then, O ! how ivill the lofty looks of man be 
 humbled, and the haughtiness of men be bowed doivn;f 
 
 * 1 Kings, xix. II. 
 
 ' Mortalia corda 
 
 Per gentes kumilis stravit pavor. 
 
 One would almost imagine, that Firgil liad read Isaiah, and bor- 
 rowed his ideas from Chap.ii.ver.il; the ImmUis and stravit of 
 
 the one so exactly correspond with the — humbled — bowed down 
 
 of the other. But, in one circumstance, tlie prophet is very much 
 
 2b2 
 
372 A WINTER-PIEeE. 
 
 when the Lord God Omnipotent shall meditate terror-^ 
 when he shall set all his terrors in array — when he arises^, 
 to judge the nations, and to shake terribly the earth ! 
 
 The ocean swells with tremendous commotions. The 
 ponderous waves are heaved from their capacious bed, 
 and almost lay bare the unfathomable deep. Flung into 
 the most rapid agitation, they sweep over the rocks ; they 
 lash the lofty cliffs ; and toss themselves into the clouds. 
 Navies are rent from their anchors j and, with all their 
 enormous load, are whirled, swift as the arrow, wild as 
 the winds, along the vast abyss. Now they climb the 
 rolling mountain j they plough the frightful ridge, and 
 seem to skim the skies. Anon, they plunge into the 
 opening gulf -, they lose the sight of day j and are lost 
 themselves to every eye. How vain is the pilot's art ! 
 how impotent the mariner's strength ! They reel to and 
 fro, and stagger in the jarring hold ; or cling to the cord- 
 age, while bursting seas foam over the deck. Despair 
 is in every face, and death sits threatening on every surge. 
 But why, O ye astonished mariners, why should you 
 abandon yourselves to despair ? Is the Lord's hand short- 
 ened, because the waves of the sea rage horribly ? Is 
 his ear deafened by the roaring thunders and the bellowing 
 tempest? Cry, cry unto him, who *^*^holdeth the winds 
 in his fist, and the waters in the hollow of his hand." 
 He is all gracious to hear, and almighty to save. If he 
 command, the storm shall be hushed to silence -, the billows 
 shall subside into a calm ; the lightnings shall lay their 
 fiery bolts aside ; and, instead of sinking in a watery 
 
 superior to the poet. The prophet, by giving a striking contrast to 
 his sentiments, represents them with incomparably greater energj'. 
 He says not, men in the gross, or the human heart in general ; but 
 men of the most elated looks ; hearts big with the most arrogant 
 imaginations ; even these shall stoop from their supercilious heights ; 
 even these shall grovel in the dust of abasement, and shudder with 
 all the extremes of an abject pusillanimity. 
 
A WINTER-PIECE. 373 
 
 grave, you shall find yourselves brought to the desired 
 haven. 
 
 Sometimes, after a joyless day, a more dismal night 
 succeeds. The lazy, lowering vapours had wove so thick 
 a veil, as the meridian sun could scarcely penetrate. 
 What gloom then must overwhelm the nocturnal hours! 
 The moon withdraws her shining. Not a single star is 
 able to struggle through the deep arrangement of shades. 
 All is pitchy darkness, without one enlivening ray. How 
 solemn ! how awful ! 'Tis like the shroud of nature, 
 or the return of chaos. I don't wonder that it is the 
 parent of terrors, and so apt to engender melancholy. 
 Lately, the tempest marked its rapid way with mischief; 
 now the night dresses her silent pavilion with horror. 
 
 I have sometimes left the beaming tapers, withdrawn 
 from the ruddy fire, and plunged into the thickest of these 
 sooty shades, without regretting the change, rather ex- 
 ulting in it as a welcome deliverance. The very gloom 
 was pleasing, was exhilarating, compared with the con- 
 versation I quitted. The speech of my companions (how 
 does it grieve me, that I should even once have occasion to 
 call them by that name !) was the language of darkness -, 
 was horror to the soul, and torture to the ear. Their 
 teeth ivere spears and arrotvs, atid their tongue a sharp 
 sivord, to stab and assassinate their neighbour's character. 
 Their throat was an open sepulchre, gaping to devour the 
 reputation of the innocent, or tainting the air with their 
 virulent and polluted breath. Sometimes, their licentious 
 and ungovernable discourse shot arrows of profaneness 
 against heaven itself j and, in proud defiance, challenged 
 the resentment of Omnipotence. Sometimes, as if it was 
 the glory of human nature to cherish the grossest appetites 
 of the brute, or the mark of a gentleman to have served 
 £tn apprenticeship in a brothel 3 the filthiest jests of the 
 stews (if low obscenity can be a jest) were nauseously 
 obtruded on the company. All the modest part were of-? 
 
374 A WINTEB-PIECE. 
 
 fended and grieved ; while the other besotted creatures 
 laughed aloud, though the leprosy of uncleanness appeared 
 on their lips. Are not these t^cy^ow^ prisoners of darkness ; 
 though blazing sconces pour artificial day through their 
 rooms ? Are not their souls immured in the most baleful 
 shades j though the noontide sun is brightened, by flaming 
 on their gilded chariots ? They discern not that great 
 and adorable Being, who fills the universe with his infinite 
 and glorious presence 3 Avho is all eye to observe their 
 actions, all ear to examine their words. They know not 
 the all-sufficient Redeemer, nor the unspeakable blessed- 
 ness of his heavenly kingdom. They are groping for the 
 prize of happiness, but will certainly grasp the thorn of 
 anxiety. They are wantonly sporting on the brink of a 
 precipice ; and are every moment in danger of falling head- 
 long into irretrievable ruin and endless despair. 
 
 They have forced me out, and are, perhaps, deriding 
 me in my absence 3 are charging my reverence for the 
 ever-present God, and ray concern for the dignity of our 
 rational nature, to the account of humour and singularity, 
 to narrowness of thought or sourness of temper. Be it so. 
 I will indulge no indignation against them. If any thing 
 like it should arise, I will convert it into prayer — *^* Pity 
 them, O thou Father of Mercies ! — Show them the mad- 
 ness of their profaneness ! Show them the baseness of 
 their vile ribaldry ! Let their dissolute rant be turned 
 into silent sorrow and confusion ; till they open their lips 
 to adore thine insulted majesty, and to implore thy gracious 
 pardon ; till they devote to thy service, those social hours, 
 and those superior faculties, which they are now abusing — 
 to the dishonour of thy name — to the contamination of 
 their own souls — and (unless timely repentance intervene) 
 to their everlasting infamy and peixiition." 
 
 I ride home amidst the gloomy void. All darkling and 
 solitary, I can scarce discern my horse's head j and only 
 guess out my blind road. No companion but danger, or 
 
A WINTER-PIECE. 375 
 
 perhaps '^'^ destruction ready at my side."* But why do 
 I fancy myself solitary ? Is not the Father of Lights, 
 the God of my life, the great and everlasting Friend, al- 
 ways at my right hand ? Because the day is excluded, 
 is his Omnipresence vacated ? Though I have no earthly 
 acquaintance near, to assist in case of a misfortune j or 
 to beguile the time, and divert uneasy suspicions, by en- 
 tertaining conferences j may I not lay my help upon the 
 Almight}^ and converse with God by humble supplication ? 
 For this exercise, no place is improper, no hour unseason- 
 able, and no posture incommodious. This is society, the 
 best of society, even in solitude. This is a fund of de- 
 lights, easily portable , and quite inexhaustible : a treasure 
 this, of unknown value ; liable to no hazard from wrong 
 or robbery 3 but perfectly secure to the lonely wanderer 
 in the most darksome paths. 
 
 And why should I distress myself with apprehensions 
 oi peril 9 This access to God is not only an indefeasible 
 privilege, but a kind of ambulatory garrison. Those who 
 make known their requests unto God, and rely upon his 
 protecting care, he gives his angels charge over their 
 welfare. His angels are commissioned to escort them in 
 their travelling, and to hold up their goings, that they 
 dash not their foot against a stone. f Nay, he himself 
 condescends to be their guardian, and *^'^ keeps all their 
 bones, so that not one of them is broken." Between these 
 persons and the most mischievous objects, a treaty of 
 peace is concluded. The articles of this grand alliance 
 are recorded in the book of revelation 5 and will, wlien 
 it is for the real benefit of believers, assui^ly be made 
 good in the administration of providence. In that day, 
 saith the Lord, will I mahe a covenant for them with the 
 beasts of the field, and ivith the fowls of heaven, and with 
 the creeping tJwigs of the ground-, and they shall be in 
 
 » Job, xviii. 12. f Psal. xci. 11, 12. 
 
376 A WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 league with the stones of the field. * Though they fall 
 headlong on the flints, even the flints, fitted to fracture the 
 scull, shall receive them as into the arms of friendship, 
 and not offer to hurt whom the Lord is pleased to preserve. 
 
 May I then enjoy the presence of this gracious God, and 
 darkness and light shall be both alike. Let him whisper 
 peace to my conscience • and this dread silence shall be 
 more charming than the voice of eloquence, or the strains 
 of music. Let him reveal his ravishing perfections in my 
 soul ', and 1 shall not want the saffron beauties of the morn, 
 the golden glories of noon, or the impurpled evening sky. I 
 shall sigh only for those most desirable and distinguished 
 realms, where the light of his countenance perpetually 
 shines j and, consequently, " there is no night there." f 
 
 How surprising are the alterations of nature ! I left her, 
 the preceding evening, plain and unadorned. But now a 
 thick rime has shed its hoary honours over all. It has 
 shagged the fleeces of the sheep, and crisped the traveller's 
 locks. The hedges are richly fringed, and all the ground 
 is profusely powdered. 'I'he downward branches are tas- 
 seled with silver, and the upright are feathered with the 
 plumy wave. 
 
 The fine are not always the valuable. The air, amidst 
 all these gaudy decorations, is charged with chilling and 
 unwholesome damps. The raw, hazy influence spreads 
 wide, sits deep, hangs heavy and oppressive on the springs 
 of life. A listless languor clogs the animal functions, and 
 the purple stream glides but faintly through its channels. 
 In vain, the ruler of the day exerts his beaming powers j in 
 vain, he attempts to disperse this insurrection of vapours. 
 The sullen, malignant cloud refuses to depart. It envelopes 
 the world, and intercepts the prospect. I look abroad for 
 the neighbouring village 5 1 send my eye in quest of the 
 rising turret 3 but am scarce able to discern the very next 
 
 * Job, V. 23. Hos. ii. 18. f Rev. xxi. 25. 
 
A WINTER-PIECE. 377 
 
 house. Where are the blue arches of heaven ? Where is 
 the radiant countenance of the sun ? Where the boundless 
 scenes of creation ? Lost, lost are their beauties, quenched 
 their glories. The thronged theatre of the universe seems 
 an empty void, and all its elegant pictures an undistin- 
 guished blank. Thus would it have been with our intellec- 
 tual views, if the Gospel had not come in to our relief. We 
 should have known, neither our true good, nor real evil. 
 We had been a riddle to ourselves -, the present state all 
 confusion, and the future impenetrable darkness. But the 
 Sun of Righteousness, arising with potent and triumphant 
 beams, has dissipated the interposing cloud, has opened a 
 prospect more beautiful than the blossoms of spring, more 
 cheering than the treasures of autumn, and far more en- 
 larged than the extent of the visible system ; which, having 
 led the eye of the mind through fields of grace, over rivers 
 of righteousness, and hills crowned with knowledge, ter- 
 minates at length in the heavens, sweetly losing itself in 
 regions of infinite bliss and endless glory. 
 
 As I walk along the fog, it seems, at some little distance, 
 to be almost solid gloom -, such as would shut out every 
 glimpse of lights and totally imprison me in obscurity. But 
 when I approach, and enter it, I find myself agreeably 
 mistaken, and the mist much thinner than it appeared. 
 Such is the case with regard to the sufferings of the present 
 life J they are not^ when experienced, so dreadful as a 
 timorous imagination surmised. Such also is the case with 
 reference to the gratifications of sense : they prove not, 
 when enjoyed, so substantial as a sanguine expectation 
 represented. In both instances we are graciously dis- 
 appointed. The keen edge of the calamity is blunted, that 
 it may not wound us with incurable anguish : the exquisite 
 relish of the prosperity is palled, that it may not captivate 
 our affections, and enslave them to inferior delights. 
 
 Sometimes, the face of things wears a more pleasing 
 form 3 the very reverse of the foregoing. The sober even- 
 
37S A WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 ing advances^ to close the short-lived day. The firmament, 
 clear and unsullied, puts on its brightest blue. The stars, 
 in thronging multitudes, and with a peculiar brilliancy, 
 glitter through the fair expanse ) while the frost pours its 
 subtile and penetrating influence all around. Sharp and 
 intensely severe, all the long night the rigid sether continues 
 its operations. When, late and slow, the morning opens 
 her pale eye, in what a curious and amusing disguise is 
 nature dressed ! The icicles, jagged and uneven, are 
 pendent on the houses. A whitish film incrusts the win- 
 dows, where mimic landscapes rise, and fancied figures 
 swell. The fruitful fields are hardened to iron ; the moist- 
 ened meadows are congealed to marble ; and both resound 
 (an effect unknown before) with the peasant's hasty tread. 
 The stream is arrested in its career, and its ever-flowing 
 surface chained to the banks. The fluid paths become a 
 solid road : where the finny shoals were wont to rove, the 
 sportive youth slide, or the rattling chariots roll.* And, 
 (what would seem, to an inhabitant of the southern world, 
 as unaccountable as the deepest mysteries of our religion,) 
 that very same breath of heaven, which cements the lakes 
 into a crystal pavement, cleaves the oaks as it were with 
 invisible wedges 3 '' breaks in pieces the northern iron, and 
 the steel," even while it builds a bridge of icy rock over 
 
 the seas.f 
 
 The air is all serenity. Refined by the nitrous particles, 
 it affords the most distinct views and extensive prospects. 
 The seeds of infection are killed, and the pestilence de- 
 
 * Undaque jam tergo ferratos sustinet orbes, 
 
 Puppihus ilia prins patulis, nunc hospita plaiistris ; 
 Mraque dissiUunt vulgo, — Virg. 
 f Jo&,xxxviii. 30. — The waters are hid, locked up from the cattle's 
 lips, and secured from the fisher's net, as wells were wont to be closed 
 with a ponderous and impenetrable stone; and not only lakes and 
 rivers, but the surface of the great deep, with its restless and un- 
 controllable surges, is taken captive, nD^D*, by the frost, and bound 
 in shining fetters. 
 
A WINTER-PIECE, 379 
 
 stroyed, even in embryo. So, tlie cold of affliction tends to 
 mortify our corruptions, and subdue our vicious habits. The 
 crowding atmosphere constringes our bodies, and braces 
 our nerves. The spirits are buoyant, and sally briskly on 
 the execution of their ofl&ce. In the summer months, such 
 an unclouded sky, and so bright a sun, would have melted 
 us with heat, and softened us into supineness. We should 
 have been ready to throw our limbs under the spreading 
 beech, and to lie at ease by the murmuring brook. But, 
 now, none loiters in his path ; none is seen with folded 
 arms. All is in motion ; all is activity. Choice, prompted 
 by the weather, supplies the spur of necessity. Thus, the 
 rugged school of misfortune often trains up the mind to a 
 vigorous exertion of its faculties. The bleak climate of 
 adversity often inspirits us with a manly resolution j when 
 a soft and downy affluence, perhaps, would have relaxed all 
 the generous springs of the soul, and have left it enervated 
 with pleasure, or dissolved in indolence. 
 
 " Cold Cometh out of the north." The winds, having 
 swept those deserts of snow, arm themselves with millions 
 of frozen particles, and make a fierce descent upon our isle. 
 Under black and scowling clouds, they di'ive, dreadfully 
 whizzing, through the darkened air : they growl around our 
 houses, assault our doors, and, eager for entrance, fasten 
 on our windows. Walls can scarce restrain them, bars are 
 unable to exclude them ; through every cranny they force 
 their way. Ice is on their wings j they scatter agues 
 through the land ; and winter, all winter, rages as they go. 
 Their breath is as a searing iron* to the little verdure left 
 in the plains : vastly more pernicious to the tender plants 
 
 * This, I suppose, is the meaning of that figurative expression used 
 by the prophet Hahakkiik ; who, speaking of the Chaldeans invading 
 JudcBOf says, " Their faces, or the incursions they make, shall sup upy 
 shall swallow greedily, shall devour utterly, the inhabitants of the 
 countiy, and their valuable effects ; as the keen, corroding blasts of 
 the east wind destroy every green thing in the field."— Z^ai. i. 9. 
 
380 A WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 than the sharpest knife j they kill their branches^ and wound 
 the very root. Let not the corn venture to peep too freely 
 from the entrenchment of the furrow j let not the fruit- 
 bearing blossoms dare to come abroad from their lodgement 
 in the bark j lest these murderous blasts intercept and seize 
 the unwary strangers, and destroy the hopes of the advancing 
 year. 
 
 O, 'tis severely cold ! Who is so hardy, as not to shrink 
 at this excessively 'pinching weather ? See ! every face is 
 pale : even the blooming cheeks contract a gelid hue 3 and 
 the teeth hardly forbear chattering. Ye that sit easy and 
 joyous amidst your commodious apartments, solacing your- 
 selves in the diffusive warmth of your fire, be mindful of 
 your brethren in the cheerless tenement of poverty. Their 
 shattered panes are open to the piercing winds j a tattered 
 garment scarcely covers their shivering flesh 5 while a few 
 faint and dying embers on the squalid hearth rather mock 
 their wishes than warm their limbs. While the generous 
 juices of Oporto sparkle in your glasses ; or the streams, 
 beautifully tinged and deliciously flavoured with the Chinese 
 leaf, smoke in the elegant porcelain 3 O remember, that 
 many of your fellow-creatures, amidst all the rigour of 
 these inclement skies, are emaciated with sickness, be- 
 numbed with age, and pining with hunger. Let " their 
 loins bless you" for comfortable clothing 5 restore them 
 with medicine 3 regale them with food j and baffle the 
 raging year. So may you never know any of their dis- 
 tresses, but only by the hearing of the ear, the seeing of the 
 eye, or the feeling of a tender commiseration ! Methinks^ 
 the bitter blustering winds plead for the poor indigents. 
 May they breathe pity into your breasts, while they blow 
 hardships into their huts ! Observe those blue flames and 
 ruddy coals in your chimney : quickened by the cold, they 
 look more lively, and glow more strongly : silent but sea- 
 sonable admonition to the gay circle that chat and smile 
 around them ! Thus may your hearts^ at such a juncture 
 
A WINTER-PIECE. S81 
 
 of need, kindle into a peculiar benevolence ! Detain not 
 your supei-fluous piles of wood : let tliem hasten to the 
 relief of the starving family. Bid them expire in many a 
 willing blaze to mitigate the severity of the season, and 
 cheer the bleak abodes of want. So shall they ascend, 
 mingled with thanksgivings to God, and ardent prayers for 
 your welfare — ascend, more grateful to Heaven than co- 
 lumns of the most costly incense. 
 
 Now the winds cease. Having brought tlieir load, they 
 are dismissed from service. They have wafted an immense 
 cargo of clouds, which empty themselves in snow. At first, 
 a few scattered shreds come wandering down the saddened 
 sky. This slight skirmish is succeeded by a general onset. 
 The flakes, large and numerous, and thick wavering, de- 
 scend. They dim the air, and hasten the approach of night. 
 Through all the night, in softest silence, and with a con- 
 tinual flow, this fleecy shower falls. In the morning, when 
 we awake, what a surprising change appears ! Is this the 
 same world ? Here is no diversity of colour ! I can hardly 
 distinguish the trees from the hills on which they grow. 
 Which are the meadows, and which the plains ? Where are 
 the green pastures, and where the fallow lands ? All things 
 lie blended in bright confusion , so bright, that it heightens 
 the splendour of day, and even dazzles the organs of sight. 
 The lawn is not so fair as this snowy mantle which invests 
 the fields , and even the lily, was the lily to appear, would 
 look tarnished in its presence. I can think of but one thing 
 which eojcels or equals the glittering robe of winter. Is any 
 person desirous to know my meaning ? He may find it ex- 
 plained in that admirable hymn* composed by the royal 
 penitent. Is any desirous to possess this matchless orna- 
 ment ? He will find it offered to his acceptance in every 
 page of the Gospel. 
 
 * Can any thing be whiter than snow? Yes, saith David; if 
 God be pleased to wash me from my sins in the blood of Christ, 
 / shall be even whiter than snow, — Psal. li. 7. See page 292. 
 
382 A WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 See ! (for the eye cannot satisfy itself without viewing 
 again and again the curious, the delicate scene,) see ! how 
 the hedges are habited like spotless vestals ! The houses 
 are roofed with uniformity and lustre j the meadows are 
 covered with a carpet of the finest ermine j * the groves 
 bow beneath the lovely burden j and all, all below, is one 
 wide, immense, shining waste of white. By deep snows, 
 and heavy rains, God sealeth up the hand of every man; and 
 for this purpose, adds our sacred philosopher, that all men 
 may know his work.f He confines them within their doors, 
 and puts a stop to their secular business, that they may 
 consider the things which belong to their spiritual welfare ; 
 that, having a vacation from their ordinary employ, they 
 may observe the works of his power, and become acquainted 
 with the mysteries of his grace. 
 
 And worthy, worthy of all observation, are the works of 
 the great Creator. They are prodigiously various, and 
 perfectly amazing. How pliant and ductile is nature under 
 his forming hand ! At his command, the self-same sub- 
 stance assumes the most different shapes, and is trans- 
 formed into an endless multiplicity of figures. If he 
 ordains, the water is moulded into hail, and discharged 
 upon the earth like a volley of shot j or it is consolidated 
 into ice, and defends the rivers, '^ as it were with a breast- 
 plate." At the bare intimation of his will, the very same 
 element is scattered in hoar-frost, like a sprinkling of the 
 most attenuated ashes -, or is spread over the surface of the 
 ground, in these couches of swelling and /laky down. 
 
 The snow, however it may carry the appearance of cold^ 
 affords a warm garment for the corn ; screens it from nip- 
 ping frosts, and cherisheth its infant growth. It will abide 
 
 * This animal is milk-white. As for those black spots which we 
 generally see in linings of ermine, they are added by the furrier, in 
 order to diversify the appearance, or heighten the beauty, of the na- 
 tive colour. 
 
 f Job, xxxvii. 7, 
 
A WINTER-PIECE. 383 
 
 for a while, to exert a protecting care, and exercise a fos- 
 tering influence ; then, touched by the sun, or thawed by a 
 softening gale, the furry vesture melts into genial moisture, 
 sinks deep into the soil, and saturates its pores with the 
 dissolving nitre ; replenishing the glebe with those princi- 
 ples of vegetaiive life which will open into the bloom of 
 spring, and ripen into the fruits of autumn. Beautiful em- 
 blem this, and comfortable representation of the divine 
 ivord, both in the successful and advantageous issue of its 
 operation ! As the rain cometk down, mid the snoio from 
 heaven, and returneth not thither, hut watereth the earth, 
 and maketh it bring forth and hud, that it may give seed to 
 the sotver, and bread to the eater ; so shall my word be, that 
 goeth forth out of my mouth; it shall not return unto me void, 
 but shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper 
 in the thing whereunto I sent it* 
 
 Nature at length puts off her lucid veil. She drops it in 
 a trickling thaw. The loosened suow^ rolls in sheets from 
 the houses 5 various openings spot the hills, which, even 
 while we look, become larger and more numerous. The 
 trees rid themselves, by degrees, of the hoary encumbrance ; 
 shook from the springing boughs, part falls heavy to the 
 ground, part flies abroad in shining atoms. Our fields and 
 gardens, lately buried beneath the drifted heaps, rise plain 
 and distinct to view. Since we see nature once again, has 
 she no verdant traces, no beautiful features left ? They are, 
 like real friends, very rare j and therefore the more parti- 
 cularly to be regarded, the more highly to be valued. Here 
 and there the holly hangs out her glowing berries ^ the 
 laurustinus spreads her graceful tufts ; and both under a 
 covert of unfading foliage. The plain but hardy ivy clothes 
 the decrepit, crazy w-all^ nor shrinks from the friendly 
 office, though the skies frown, and the storm roars. The 
 laurel, firm, erect, and bold, expands its leaf of vivid green. 
 
 * Isa.lv. 10, 11. 
 
384 A WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 In spite of the tinited, the repeated attacks of wind, and 
 rain, and frost, it preserves an undismayed lively look, and 
 maintains lis post, while withering millions fall around j 
 worthy, by vanquishing the rugged force of winter, worthy 
 to adorn the triumphant conqueror's brow. Nor must I 
 forget the hay tree, which scorns to be a mean pensioner on 
 a few transient sunny gleams j or, with a servile obse- 
 quiousness, to vary its appearance in conformity to the 
 changing seasons : by such indications of sterling worth 
 and stanch resolution reading a lecture to the poet's ge- 
 nius, while it weaves the chaplet for his temples. These, 
 and a few other plants, clad with native verdure, retain 
 their comely aspect in the bleakest climes and in the coldest 
 months. 
 
 Such, and so durable, are the accomplishments of a 
 refined understanding and an amiable temper. The tawdry 
 ornaments of dress, which catch the unthinking vulgar, 
 soon become insipid and despicable : the rubied lip and the 
 rosy cheek fade : even the sparkling wit,* as well as the 
 sparkling eye, please but for a moment. But the virtuous 
 
 * " How little does God esteem the things that men count great; 
 the endowments of wit and eloquence, that men admire in some ! 
 Alas ! how poor are they to him ! He respecteth not any who are 
 wise in heart : they are nothing, and less than nothing, in his eyes. 
 Even wise men admire, how little it i§ that men know ; how small a 
 matter lies under the sound of these popular wonders, ' a learned man, 
 a great scholar, a great statesman.' How much more doth the all- 
 wise God meanly account of these ! He often discovers, even to the 
 world, their meanness. He befools them. So valour, or birth, or 
 worldly greatness, these he gives, and gives .as things he makes no 
 great reckoning of, to such as shall never see his face ; and calls to 
 the inheritance of glory poor despised creatures, that are looked on as 
 the offscourings and refuse of the world." 
 
 Thus says an excellent author, who writes with the most 
 
 amiable spirit of benevolence, with the most unaffected air of humi. 
 lity, and, like the sacred originals from which he copies, with a ma- 
 jestic simplicity of style ; whose select works I may venture to recom- 
 mend, not only as a treasure, but as a mine of genuine, sterling, 
 evangelical piety. See page 520 of Archbishop Leighton's Select 
 
A WINTER-PIECE, 385 
 
 mind has diaims which survive the decay of every inferior 
 embellishment ; charms which add to the fragrancy of the 
 flower, the permanency of the evergreen. 
 
 Such, likewise, is the happiness of the sincerely religious ; 
 like a tree, says the inspired moralist, ''whose leaf shall 
 not fall." He borrows not his peace from external circum- 
 stances ; but has a fund within, and is " satisfied from him- 
 self." "* Even though impoverished by calamitous acci- 
 dents, he is rich in the poasession of grace, and richer in 
 the hope of ghrt/. His joys are infinitely superior to^ as 
 well as nobly independent on^, the transitory glow of sen- 
 sual delight, or the capricious favours of what the Avorld 
 calls fortune. 
 
 If the snow composes the light-armed troops of the sky, 
 methinks the hail constitutes its heavy artillery.f When 
 driven by a vehement wind, with what dreadful impetuosity 
 does that stony shower fall ! How it rebounds from the 
 frozen ground, and rattles on the resounding dome ! It 
 attenuates the rivers into smoke, or scourges them into 
 foam. It crushes the infant flowers, cuts in pieces the 
 gardener's early plants, and batters the feeble fortification 
 of his glasses into shivers. It darts into the traveller's 
 face J he turns with haste from the stroke, or feels on his 
 cheek for the gushing blood. If he would retreat into the 
 house, it follows him even thither ; and, like a determined 
 enemy that pushes the pursuit, dashes through the crackling 
 panes. But the fierce attack is quickly over : the clouds 
 
 fVorks, the Edinburgh edition, octavo ; which it is necessaiy to spe- 
 cify, because the London edition does not contain that part of his 
 writings which has supplied me with the preceding quotation. 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 14. 
 
 f He casteth forth his ice like morsels. — Psal. cxbii. 17; which, in 
 modern language, might be thus expressed : He poureth his hail like a 
 volley of shot. The word CD'ns, inadequately translated morsels, 
 alludes, I think, to those fragments of the rock, or those smooth stones 
 from the brook, which, in the day of battle, the warriors hurled from 
 their slings. 
 
 2 c 
 
'^Q6 A WINTER-PIECE. 
 
 have soon spent their shafts, soon unstrung their bow. 
 Happy for the inhabitants of the earth that a sally so dread- 
 fully furious should be so remarkably short ! What else 
 could endure the shock, or escape destruction ? 
 
 But, behold a bow, of no hostile intention ! — a bow, 
 painted in variegated colours on the disburdened cloud. 
 How vast is the extent, how delicate the texture, of that 
 showery arch ! It compasseth the heavens with a glorious 
 circle, and teaches us to forget the horrors of the storm. 
 Elegant its form, and rich its tincture, but more delightful 
 its sacred significancy. While the violet and the rose 
 blush in its beautiful aspect, the olive-branch smiles in its 
 gracious import. It writes, in radiant dyes, what the 
 angels sang in harmouious strains, " Peace on earth, and 
 good-will towards men." It is the stamp of insurance, 
 for the continuance of seed-time and harvest, for the pre- 
 servation and security of the visible world ;* it is the 
 comfortable token-f of a better state, and a happier king- 
 dom-^ a kingdom, where sin shall cease, and misery be 
 abolished J where storms shall beat, and winter pierce 
 no more j but holiness, happiness, and joy, like one un- 
 bounded springy for ever, ever bloom. 
 
 * Gen. ix. 12—16. t Rev. iv. 3. 
 
 ■'aiasG 
 
A TABLE 
 
 OF THE TEXTS QUOTED OR ILLUSTRATED IN 
 THIS WORK. 
 
 
 
 Genesis. 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 Samuel. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 Ferse 
 
 Page 
 
 Chap. Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 1 . 
 
 31 . . 
 
 . 303 
 
 28 . . . 19 . . 
 
 . 60 
 
 3 . 
 
 
 19 . . 
 
 31 
 
 
 
 9 . 
 
 
 12,16 . . 
 
 386 
 
 2 Samuel. 
 
 
 12 . 
 
 
 7, 8 . . 
 
 . 301 
 
 1 . . . ^ . , 
 
 
 15 . 
 
 
 5 . . 
 
 2,&'i 
 
 31 
 
 28 . 
 
 
 17 . . 
 
 . 14 
 
 3 . . . ^ , . 
 
 . 48 
 
 30 . 
 41 . 
 
 
 1 . . 
 
 43 . . 
 
 32 
 . 199 
 
 1 Kings. 
 
 
 47 . 
 
 
 8 . . , 
 
 , 213 
 
 8 . . . 27 . . 
 
 . 11 
 
 
 
 
 19 . . . 11 . . 
 
 . 371 
 
 
 Exodus. 
 
 
 20 . . . 40 . . 
 
 . 219 
 
 16 . , 
 
 20 . . . 
 
 311 
 
 22 - . . 34 . . 
 
 . 25 
 
 28 . . 
 34 . . 
 
 38 . . . 
 
 NUMRERS. 
 
 141 
 318 
 
 2 Chronicles. 
 oo . * , — . . 
 
 . 316 
 
 24 . . 
 
 17 . . . 
 
 Deuteronomy. 
 
 344 
 
 Nehemiah. 
 9 . . . 6 . . 
 
 340 
 
 28 . . 
 
 56 . . . 
 
 b& 
 
 Job. 
 
 
 32 . . 
 
 29 . . . 
 
 14 
 
 3 . . . 13 . . 
 
 . 17 
 
 33 . . 
 
 27 . . . 
 
 45 
 
 4 
 
 
 
 21 . . 
 . 12,14 . . 
 
 . 328 
 235 
 
 
 Joshua. 
 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 19 . , 
 
 22 
 
 4 . . 
 10 . . 
 
 18 . . . 
 11 . . . 
 
 250 
 171 
 
 5 
 7 
 
 
 
 S6 . . 
 
 376 
 
 42 
 
 24 ! \ 
 
 . 12, 13 . . . 
 
 27 . . . 
 
 336 
 192 
 
 
 
 3 . . 
 6 . . . 
 14 . . 
 
 227 
 213 
 229 
 
 
 Judges. 
 
 
 9 
 
 
 
 20 . . , 
 8 . . . 
 
 288 
 62 
 
 5 . . 
 
 20 . . . 
 
 ^& 
 
 — . 
 
 
 
 25,26 . . . 
 
 212 
 
 6 . . 
 
 . 
 
 23 . . . 
 
 "Zbl 
 
 11 . 
 
 
 
 8, 9 . . . 
 
 67 
 
 2c2 
 
388 
 
 A TABLE OF TEXTS. 
 
 
 Job, continued. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 
 
 Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 Chap. Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 136 
 
 139 
 
 
 
 9 . . 
 
 2 . . 
 
 256 
 
 223 
 
 18 . . 
 
 12 . . 
 
 . 375 
 
 
 
 
 .7,8,9 . . 
 
 210 
 
 20 . . 
 
 27 . . 
 
 . 72 
 
 
 
 
 
 10 . . 
 
 . 223 
 
 22 . . 
 
 14 . . 
 
 62 
 
 147 
 
 
 
 17 . . 
 
 . 385 
 
 — . . 
 
 16 . . 
 
 260 
 
 148 
 
 
 
 3, 4 . . 
 
 . 341 
 
 — . 
 
 20 . . 
 
 296 
 
 150 
 
 
 
 7 
 
 1 . . 
 
 293 
 
 24 . . 
 
 20 . . 
 
 57 
 
 
 
 25 . . 
 
 5, 6 . . 
 
 310 
 
 Proverbs. 
 
 
 26 . . 
 
 7 . . 
 
 320 
 
 
 
 — . . 
 
 14 . . 
 
 282 
 
 4 . . . 15 . . 
 
 . 147 
 
 31 . . 
 
 26 . . 
 
 263 
 
 6 . . . 6 . . 
 
 . 334 
 
 m . . 
 
 7 . . 
 
 382 
 
 14 . . . 14 . . 
 
 . 385 
 
 — . . 
 
 22 . . 
 
 297 
 
 27 . . . 9 . . 
 
 , 105 
 
 38 . . 
 
 25 . . 
 
 134 
 
 
 
 — . . 
 
 23 . . 
 
 171 
 
 ECCLESIASTES. 
 
 
 42 ! ! 
 
 30 . . 
 
 2 . . 
 6 . . 
 
 378 
 294 
 311 
 
 3 . . . 14 . . 
 
 7 . . . 20 . . 
 
 12 . . . 3,5 . . 
 
 . 116 
 
 . 261 
 
 40 
 
 Psalms. 
 
 
 Canticles. 
 
 
 8 . 
 19 . 
 
 . . 3,4 . . 
 
 '. . 3 '. '. 
 4 . . 
 6 . . 
 
 285 
 363 
 275 
 82 
 179 
 
 2 . . . 1 . . 
 
 3 . . . 7, 8 . . 
 6 . . . 10 . . 
 
 . 113 
 
 . 229 
 . 261 
 
 22 ! 
 
 7 ... 11, 12 . . 
 
 . 80 
 
 23 ! 
 
 27 . . 
 1 . . 
 
 87 
 332 
 
 Isaiah. 
 
 
 — 
 
 4 . . 
 
 34 
 
 1 . . . 18 . . 
 
 . 34 
 
 27 . 
 
 1 . . 
 
 332 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 22 . . 
 
 31 
 
 — 
 
 4 . . . 
 
 112 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 24 . . 
 
 . 138 
 
 29 . 
 
 8 . . 
 
 168 
 
 6 
 
 
 
 5 . . 
 
 . 311 
 
 33 
 
 6 . . 
 
 294 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 6 . . 
 
 . 329 
 
 — 
 
 9 . . 
 
 295 
 
 8 
 
 
 
 19 . . 
 
 276 
 
 39 . 
 
 6 . . 
 
 38 
 
 9 
 
 
 
 3 . . 
 
 . 312 
 
 45 . 
 
 8 . . 
 
 106 
 
 11 
 
 
 
 8 . . 
 
 . 65 
 
 — 
 
 . . — . . 
 
 348 
 
 14 
 
 
 
 11 . . 
 
 . 311 
 
 51 . 
 
 7 . . 
 
 292 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 23 . . 
 
 . 249 
 
 — 
 
 . , — . , 
 
 . 381 
 
 24 
 
 
 
 15 . . 
 
 . 184 
 
 62 . 
 
 . . 11 . . 
 
 293 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 20 . . 
 
 75 
 
 73 . 
 
 26 . . 
 
 34 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 23 . . 
 
 112 
 
 75 . 
 
 2 . . 
 
 356 
 
 26 
 
 
 
 19 . . 
 
 . 217 
 
 87 . 
 
 2 . . 
 
 . 159 
 
 27 
 
 
 
 11 . . 
 
 71 
 
 91 . 
 
 1 . . 
 
 . 156 
 
 28 
 
 
 
 29 . . 
 
 . 117 
 
 — 
 
 . . 11, 12 . . 
 
 , 375 
 
 29 
 
 
 
 8 . . 
 
 . 231 
 
 96 . 
 
 5 . . 
 
 . 340 
 
 32 
 
 
 
 2 . . 
 
 157 
 
 97 , 
 
 2 . . 
 
 . 223 
 
 33 
 
 
 
 15 . . 
 
 147 
 
 — . 
 
 . . — . . 
 
 . 303 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 17 . . 
 
 111 
 
 104 . 
 
 3 . . 
 
 . 62 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 24 . . 
 
 . 67 
 
 
 24 . . 
 
 . 115 
 
 35 
 
 
 
 1 . . 
 
 137 
 
 108 . 
 
 4 . . 
 
 . 81 
 
 37 
 
 
 
 3 . . 
 
 29 
 
 110 . 
 
 . 3 • • 
 
 . 89 
 
 38 
 
 
 
 11 . . 
 
 218 
 
 113 . 
 
 6 . . 
 
 . 13 
 
 40 
 
 
 
 6 . . 
 
 149 
 
 119 . 
 
 . .89,90 . . 
 
 . 323 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 11 . . . 
 
 182 
 
 127 . 
 
 2 . . 
 
 . 228 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 12 . . 
 
 299 
 
 130 . 
 
 4 . . 
 
 . 291 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 15 . . . 
 
 282 
 
A TABLE OF TEXTS. 
 
 389 
 
 Isaiah, continued. 
 
 Amos. 
 
 Chap 
 
 >. 
 
 
 F'erse 
 
 Page 
 
 Chap. 
 
 fierce 
 
 Page 
 
 40 . . 29,30.31 . 
 
 . 295 
 
 4 . . 
 
 12 . . . 
 
 234 
 
 4L 
 
 
 10 . 
 
 . 321 
 
 5 . . 
 
 . 21, 22 . . . 
 
 106 
 
 42 
 
 
 
 3 . 
 
 . 322 
 
 
 
 
 43 
 
 
 
 18 . 
 
 . 165 
 
 
 MlCAH. 
 
 
 45 
 
 
 
 22 . 
 
 . 141 
 
 7 . . 
 
 18 . . . 
 
 319 
 
 49 
 
 
 
 13 . 
 
 . 308 
 
 
 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 15 . 
 
 . 355 
 
 
 Nahum. 
 
 
 51 . 
 
 
 
 6 . 
 
 . 166 
 
 
 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 16 . 
 
 . ib. 
 
 3 . . 
 
 8 . . . 
 
 98 
 
 52 
 
 
 
 3 . 
 
 . 172 
 
 
 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 7 . 
 
 . 143 
 
 
 Habakkuk. 
 
 
 — • 
 
 
 
 14 . 
 
 . 168 
 
 1 . . 
 
 9 . . . 
 
 379 
 
 53 
 
 
 
 5 . 
 
 . 34 
 
 3 . . 
 
 4 . . . 
 
 123 
 
 55 
 
 
 
 10, 11 . 
 
 . 383 
 
 
 5 . . . 
 
 173 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 13 . . 
 
 . 137 
 
 
 
 11 . . . 
 
 336 
 
 57 
 
 
 
 1 . 
 
 . 18 
 
 __ 
 
 17 . . . 
 
 85 
 
 58 
 
 
 
 10 . 
 
 . 139 
 
 
 
 
 60 
 
 
 
 20 . 
 
 . 346 
 
 
 Zechariah. 
 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 1 . 
 
 . 44 
 
 
 
 
 61 
 
 
 
 10 . 
 
 . 110 
 
 9 . . 
 
 12 . . . 
 
 63 
 
 
 
 — 
 
 17 . . . 
 
 305 
 
 Jeremiah. 
 
 
 13 . . 
 
 1 . . . 
 
 292 
 311 
 
 23 . . . 6 . 
 
 . 257 
 
 — . . 
 
 '. 7 . '. . 
 
 308 
 
 31 . 
 
 
 12 . 
 35,36 . 
 
 . 137 
 
 . . 322 
 
 
 Malachi. 
 
 
 35 . 
 
 , 
 
 5 . 
 
 . . 145 
 
 4 . . 
 
 2 . . . 
 
 83 
 
 49 . 
 
 
 11 . 
 
 . . 37 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 ESDRAS. 
 
 
 Lamentations. 
 
 
 7 . . 
 
 41 . . , 
 
 59 
 
 3 . . . 32 . 
 
 . . 34 
 
 
 Wisdom. 
 
 
 EZEKIEL. 
 
 
 5 . . 
 
 4,5 .. . 
 
 46 
 
 
 
 - . 2 
 
 [), 21, 22, 23 . . 
 
 337 
 
 "2 ... 10 . 
 
 . . 14 
 
 
 
 
 16 . 
 
 
 63 . 
 
 . . 290 
 
 
 ECCLESIASTICUS. 
 
 
 34 . 
 
 
 29 . 
 
 . . 145 
 
 
 
 
 36 . 
 
 , 
 
 31 . 
 
 . . 290 
 
 43 . . 
 
 - 9 . 2.53,255 
 
 37 . 
 
 . 
 
 — . 
 
 . . 352 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Matthew. 
 
 
 Daniel. 
 
 
 4 . . 
 
 19 . . 
 
 196 
 
 4 . . . 3 . 
 
 . . 282 
 
 5 . . 
 
 14 . . 
 
 263 
 
 8 . . . 10 . 
 
 . . 344 
 
 6 . . 
 
 25 . . 
 
 334 
 
 9 . . . 24 . 
 
 . . 262 
 
 — . . 
 
 29 . . 
 
 151 
 
 12 . . . 3 . 
 
 . . 344 
 
 — . 2 
 
 5,28,29,30 . . 
 
 195 
 
 
 
 7 . . 
 
 7 . . 
 
 324 
 
 HOSEA. 
 
 
 12 . . 
 
 13 . . 
 
 20 . . 
 39 . . 
 
 323 
 . 1%' 
 
 2 . . . 18 . 
 
 . .376 
 
 22 . . 
 
 11 . . 
 
 . 180 
 
 5 . . . 10 . 
 
 . . 370 
 
 25 . . 
 
 9 . . 
 
 40 
 
 8 . . . 7 . 
 
 . . 247 
 
 26 . . 
 
 55 . . 
 
 48 
 
 13 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 14 . 
 
 . . 173 
 
 27 . . 
 
 34 . . 
 
 . 17 
 
390 
 
 A TABLE OF TEXTS. 
 
 
 Luke. 
 
 
 
 1 Chap. 
 
 P'ei'se 
 
 Page 
 
 Chap. 
 4 . 
 7 , 
 
 10 . 
 
 11 . 
 
 yerse 
 5 . 
 
 12 . 
 19 . 
 
 13 . 
 
 Page 
 . . 229 
 . . 244 
 . . 64 
 . . 325 
 
 5 . 
 
 6 *. 
 9 ! 
 
 1 . 
 
 21 . 
 
 2 . 
 16 . 
 
 8 . 
 
 . . 34 
 . . ib. 
 . . 218 
 . . 14 
 . . 314 
 
 12 . 
 
 32 . 
 
 . . 108 
 
 
 Galatians. 
 
 
 14 . 
 
 . . 2:3 . 
 
 . . 118 
 
 
 
 
 i- f ■ . 
 
 
 
 2 . 
 
 20 . 
 
 . . 145 
 
 
 John. 
 
 
 5 . 
 
 6 . 
 
 . . 349 
 
 1 . 
 
 3 . 
 
 3 . 
 3 . - 
 
 100, 125 
 
 . . 239 
 
 
 Ephesians. 
 
 
 4 . 
 
 S5 . 
 
 . . 196 
 
 3 . 
 
 8 . 
 
 . . 310 
 
 € , 
 
 17 . 
 
 . . 101 
 
 — . 
 
 10 . 
 
 . . 327 
 
 '"^' . 
 
 37 . 
 
 . . 325 
 
 — . 
 
 . . 18, 19 . 
 
 . . 287 
 
 — -■ . 
 
 40 . 
 
 . . 34 
 
 — , 
 
 19 . 
 
 . . 163 
 
 10 . 
 
 9 . 
 
 . . 142 
 
 — . 
 
 20 . 
 
 . . 296 
 
 — . 
 
 28 . 
 
 . . 321 
 
 
 
 
 11 . 
 
 26 . 
 
 . . 63 
 
 
 Philippians. 
 
 
 12 . 
 
 32 . 
 
 . . 329 
 
 
 
 
 14 . 
 
 6 . 
 
 . . 142 
 
 1 . 
 
 23 . 
 
 . 65,310 
 
 
 9 . 
 
 . . 328 
 
 2 . 
 
 . . 6,7,8 . 
 
 . . 287 
 
 
 
 
 3 . 
 
 8 . 
 
 . . 83 
 
 
 Acts. 
 
 
 — . 
 
 10 . 
 
 . . 145 
 
 3 . 
 
 19 . 
 
 • l^l 
 
 
 COLOSSIANS. 
 
 
 9 . 
 
 1 . 
 
 
 . 317 
 
 
 
 
 10 . 
 
 43 . 
 
 
 . 34 
 
 1 . 
 
 4 . 
 
 . . 349 
 
 20 . 
 
 28 . . 
 
 
 . 292 
 
 — . 
 
 . . 15, 16 . 
 
 . . 125 
 
 28 . 
 
 35 . . 
 
 
 . 65 
 
 — . 
 
 16 . 
 
 . . 100 
 
 
 
 
 — , 
 
 . . 16,17 . 
 
 . . 164 
 
 
 Romans. 
 
 
 — , 
 
 17 , 
 
 . . 101 
 
 5 . 
 
 8 . . 
 
 . 307 
 
 2 . 
 
 3 . 
 
 . . 328 
 
 _ 
 
 9 . . 
 
 . 34 
 
 
 
 
 — • . 
 
 17 . . 
 
 . 262 
 
 
 2 Timothy. 
 
 
 8 . . 
 
 22 . . 
 . 33,34 . . 
 
 . 102 
 . 34 
 
 4 . . 
 
 7,8 . 
 8 . 
 
 . . 65 
 . . 31 
 
 10 .* ! 
 
 3 . . 
 
 . 262 
 
 
 
 
 13 . . 
 
 14 . . 
 
 . 110 
 
 
 Titus. 
 
 
 
 1 Corinthians. 
 
 
 1 . . 
 
 2 . . 
 
 . 322 
 
 1 . . 
 
 24 . . 
 
 . 327 
 
 
 Philemon. 
 
 
 -- • • 
 
 30 . . 
 
 
 257 
 
 
 
 
 3 . . 
 
 15 . . 
 
 
 41 
 
 — • 
 
 5 . . 
 
 . 349 
 
 6 . . 
 
 9,10,11 . . 
 
 
 317 
 
 
 
 
 8 . . 
 
 1 . . 
 
 
 361 
 
 
 Hebrews. 
 
 
 IS . . 
 15 . . 
 
 12 . . 
 10 . . 
 
 . 41,42 . . 
 
 . 56,57 . . 
 
 58 . . 
 
 
 362 
 352 
 347 
 31 
 320 
 
 1 . . 
 
 '6 . . 
 
 7 . . 
 
 8 . . 
 
 2 . . 
 
 2,3 . . 
 
 12 . . 
 
 26 . . 
 
 10 . . 
 
 . 100 
 - 125 
 . 31 
 . 290 
 . 331 
 
 
 2 Corinthians. 
 
 
 9 . . 
 12 . . 
 
 7 . . 
 
 2 . . 
 
 . 13 
 
 . 140 
 
 4 . . 
 
 10 . . 
 
 . 142 
 
 — . . 
 
 6 . . 
 
 . 34 
 
 — . . 
 
 17 . . 
 
 3 
 
 4,224 1 
 
 13 . . 
 
 5 . . 
 
 . 36 
 
A TABLE OF TEXTS. 
 
 391 
 
 " >•.■- ■ 
 
 James. 
 
 Chap. 
 3 . 
 
 Verse 
 
 2 
 
 
 1 Peter 
 
 1 . 
 
 12 
 
 
 2 Peter 
 
 1 . , 
 
 3 . . 
 
 14 
 
 10 
 
 
 1 John. 
 
 2 . 
 
 3 . 
 
 4 . 
 
 1,2 
 
 -2 
 8 
 
 Page 
 
 Chap. 
 
 261 
 
 2 . . 
 
 
 3 . . 
 
 
 4 . . 
 
 329 
 
 5 . . 
 
 
 6 . . 
 
 
 7 . . 
 
 65 
 
 252 
 
 10 . . 
 12 . . 
 15 . . 
 
 
 16 .* *. 
 
 34 
 
 21 . . 
 
 112 
 
 
 
 304 
 
 — . . 
 
 47 
 
 — . . 
 
 XV£.VJCL>A.lJUiN. 
 
 Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 7 . 
 
 . 176 
 
 5 . 
 
 . 51 
 
 3 - 
 
 . 386 
 
 13 . 
 
 . lt>5 
 
 8 . 
 
 . 59 
 
 . 16, 17 . 
 
 . . 34 
 
 1,2,3,4,5,6 
 
 . 214 
 
 1 . 
 
 . . 168 
 
 2 . 
 
 . 208 
 
 4 . 
 
 . . 297 
 
 21 . 
 
 . 171 
 
 1 . 
 
 . 174 
 
 4 . 
 
 . . 67 
 
 . 19,21 . 
 
 . 177 
 
 25 . 
 
 . . S76 
 
 THE END. 
 
 'i-'j'i. w .1 
 
 j^'- 
 
 Piinted by S. Hamilton, 
 Weybridge, SuiTey. 
 
 t^s:^ M. 
 
/i\. 
 

 
 
 }»• 
 
 r .\ 
 
 
 ;* 
 
 %. 
 
 tiTS^ 
 
 t.^Vi, 
 
M 
 
 --^r 
 
 f/^ 
 
 ii^-- 
 
 ■^.«'l^