:i-2^~&- f 7/v. fU**^ (T \ BEAUTIES OF COLLYER SELECTIONS THEOLOGICAL LECTURES, BY REV. W. B. COLLYER, D. D. F. A. S. COMPILED BY J. O. CHOULES. Ronton: LINCOLN AND EDMANDS. 1833. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1833, by Lincoln & Edmands in the Clerk's office of tJie District Court of Massachusetts. PREFACE The rapid multiplication of reading individuals among the friends of religion, is one of the most auspicious signs of the times. Our sabbath schools and bible classes have created habits of thought, and a spirit of research, and the younger members of our families and churches are hungering and thirsting for information. It is of immense importance that suitable aliment be provided for this mental appetite. It was excited by our efforts, let us not suffer it to become morbid. We led to the tree of knowledge ; let us guide to the tree of life, whose fruit is for the healing of the nations. The youthful thousands of our Israel on leaving the sacred enclosure of the sabbath school, will look for oc- cupation of the mind, and their habits and opinions will depend in a high degree upon the character of the books they read. If passive impressions lead to active habits, it is a matter of high concern that we place in the hands of youth works that may produce a happy influence in sentiment and conduct. It may not be improper to look lound, and see how works of excellence may be brought forth from sources hitherto inaccessible to the community. It has appear- ed to me that the writings of the Rev. Dr. Collyer would afford fine materials for a volume worthy of a place in every christian library. Dr. Collyer is the able and faithtul pastt/i of a large congregation m the vicinity of IV PREFACE. London. His popularity has been bo great for nearly 80 years, that he has been taxed beyond any of his brethren in requests for his acceptable services on public occa- sions ; yet such has been his industry, that he has furnish- ed seven large octavo volumes lor the press, beside many occasional pieces, and his fame will not rest simply on the traditional eloquence of his pulpit labors, but he will be known to posterity as the able divine, in his Lectures on the Facts, Miracles, Parables, Prophecies, Doctrines, and Duties of the Sacred Scriptures. Only one volume (on Facts) of these Lectures has been printed in America ; and, that, it should be known, was the first fruit of the ministry, and written when its author was a youth. The ripe productions of his matured ex- perience and profound attainments, are seldom found upon this continent, except in a few of the choicest min- isterial libraries. Feeling satisfied that Dr. Colly er's writings require only to be known to receive admiration and afford instruction, I have selected the following extracts, which afibrd a fair specimen of his Lectures in general. 'Ehe contents of this volume are placed under the titles of facts, miracles, parables, &c. in order to indicate the Volumes from which the selectionB have been made. It may not be unsuitable to present the opinion of an eminent reviewer upon the merits of Dr. Collyer as an author. ** His researches, his various learning, his ac- cumulation of interesting facts, his presenting old and familiar truths in a new and striking manner, entitle him to rank high as a theological writer. His style is re- markably elegant and polished, and there is a rich vein of evangelical piety running through all his works." J. 0. C. Kcwportf R, L Jan. 1833. CONTENTS. FACTS. Revelation, .... Sense, Reason and Faith, . Beauties of Nature, . • The being of a God, . • The Deluge, Pride of the Heart, . . Memorials of Gratitude, Destruction of Sodom, • Sarah's Grave, , . • Patriarchal Faith, or Trial of Abram The Orphan Boy, . • The God of Nature, Humanity is concerned in the spread of the Gospel, . . • . Man the same in all ages, One man differs from another. 14 16 17 20 22 25 26 34 36 38 42 44 45 CONTENTS. Reason and Revelation, Use of Sacred History, Horrors of War, Writers of the Scriptures — wise and good men The spirit in which the Bible should be read, Man a dependent creature, . . , Human power is limited, . , MIRACLES. Exertion necessary to attainment, . . Man's consciousness of immortality. Laudable curiosity, .... The Apostles of Christ, Importance of religious sentiments, Benevolence of Christianity, Miracles of Christ, ...» Character of Moses, .... Consistency of the Sacred Scriptures, Obscurity no argument against Revelation, Adversity a test of Character, . The first Triumphs of Death, • • The example of Ancient Saints, Marriage, Relative Duties, • • • • • Divine plans in harmony with divine perfec tions, ... . . Grand epochs in human life, Man has nothing of his own in which to glory CONTENTS. VU PARABLES. Monuments of human grandeur perish, . . 108 Christ— a Teacher, 112 The model of a Gospel Minister should be Christ and his Apostles, .... 116 The ministry which God approves, . . 119 DUTIES. Revealed truths afford to faith its proper exer- cise, . . I ... 120 Christianity distinguished from modern philoso- phy, 122 Submission in affliction, .... 124 Activity the characteristic of spirit, . . 127 Trust in God, incompatible with the neglect of duty, 129 Social Intercourse, 132 Parental Affection, 138 Filial Duties, 141 Suicide, 145 Sins of the Tongue, 156 God's law the only true standard of morals; . 162 PROPHECY. The Bible, a Classic, 168 Close of Life, 172 Death of Jacob, 175 Vlll CONTENTS. The bad man in Solitude, . . • Prophecy dependent on Providence for illustra tion, Character of Balaam improved, God the Supreme Ruler, What think ye of Christ ? . . . Every thing connected with this world is local and temporary, God's grand Epochs, .... Providence, The enslaved African, • . . . False estimates of character, . The shortsightedness of man contrasted with perfection of God, .... The progress of the Gospel, . . • the 177 182 184 186 187 189 191 192 193 196 198 202 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. FACTS. REVELATION. Revelation Las done that for man, which nei- ther reason nor philosophy could effect. In the exercise of the powers of our mind, upon the scenery by which we are surrounded, we rise to the great Parent of all ; and deduce some conclu- sions respecting his nature, from the operations of his hand: yet have we seen that these conclusions were frequently erroneous. The religion of nature cannot go further than to teach us that there is a God, all-powerful, all-wise, all-good ; and this is more than it taught the heathen world perfectl3^ But it leaves us ignorant of our relation to him; it is unable to unravel the more interesting parts of his character ; it cannot develope the harmony of his attributes. A thousand inquiries are sug- gested, to which we receive no answer. We are placed in circumstances for which, on principles of reason, we cannot account ; and perceive the ex- istence of evil, unable to discover its source. We labour under a curse, from which, by the light of 2 10 BEAUTIES OF COLLYE R. nature, we see no deliverance; and are in posses- sion of an existence, for which we perceive no ad- equate end. Those things which are the most in- teresting, are also the most uncertain ; and that which we know naturally, only serves to kindle a thirst to learn more, which, on the principles of nature and reason merely, cannot he satiated. For what has the light of philosophy done, but rendered darkness visible? It has strained the powers of reason and imagination, till they could be stretched no further; yet without bringing one bidden truth to light. It has perplexed and bewil- dered the mind by contradictory hypotheses. It has exhausted the charms of eloquence, and ener- vated the force of argument, in establishing favour- ite systems upon the ruins of those which preceded them, only to be pulled down in their turns, to make way for others equally absurd, and equally false. After dragging us through mazes of intri- cate reasoning, it leaves us precisely at the point at which it found us, all uncertainty, obscurity, and suspense. "The world by wisdom know not God." We aj)peal to facts — they are before you — and we confidently expect your decision upon their testimony. It is bore that Revelation takes up the process, and disperses the mist of uncertainty. It professes not, indeed, to reason upon subjects beyond the comprehension of the human mind ; but it reveals the fad, and requires our assent to it: which we may safely give, although we do not comprehend BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 11 the whole of that which is revealed. Those parts which we do comprehend, we conceive to be true and wise : may we not reasonably conclude that those which we do not completely understand, are equally so; and that the deficiency is in our natu- ral powers, and not in the subject investigated? Those who call upon you to relinquish your Bibles, have not attempted to fathom the depths of futuri- ty. They rather wish you to consider the scanty period of "threescore years and ten," the bounda- ry of the hopes, the joys, and the expectations of man. The}'^ place beyond death — annihilation ! The thought is insufferable ! Say, you who have dropped the parting tear into the grave of those whom you loved — is this a consoling system ? Are the most tender connections dissolved to be renew- ed no more? Must I resign my brother, my parent, my friend, my child — for ever? What an awful import these words bear ! Standing upon the grave of my family, must I say to its de[>arted members, "Farewell! ye who were once the partners of my joys and sorrows! I leaned upon you for support; I poured my tears into your bosom; I received from your hands the balm of sympathy — But it is no more! No more shall I receive your kindness; no more shall I behold you ! The cold embrace of death clasps your mouldering bodies, and the shadows of an impenetrable midnight brood for EVER upon your sepulchres!" No ! We cannot re- linquish Christianity for a system which conducts us to this fearful close 1 When scepticism shall 12 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. Lave provided a substitute for our present hopes, we will listen with more confidence to its proposals. And yet the cry of modern philosophy is against the only pledge of immortality afforded the human race. Where is the gratitude of such conduct? Are we not indebted to it for all the illumination which we enjoy ? Did Paganism disappear, till Christianity exerted her benign influence ? Did not man in a state of nature demand and offer human victims? And did not Revejation stay the effusion of blood, and abolish these infamous rites ? Is it not friendly to science and civilization ? Is it not inimical to whatever is injurious to the interests of man? Where is the wisdom o^ such an opposition? Before you banish this, produce a better system : shew us " a more excellent way :" teach us moral- ity more sublime! What is its cn'me? Sedition? Impossible! It " puts us in mind to be subject to principalities and powers, to obey magistrates, to be ready to every good work." Want of philan- thropy ? Surely not ! Some may bear its name who do not breathe its spirit: but their bigotry and il- liberality are not chargeable upon Christianity — Christianity, which teaches " to speak evil of no man, to be no brawlers, but gentle, showing all meekness unto all men." It substitutes faith for good works ; and its professed teachers set up opinion against morality ? It is a gross calumny ! It blends these nominally jarring principles : it as- signs to each its proper place : it requires the in- fluence, and commands the agency, both of thq BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 13 one and the other ; it joins together those things ■which men frequently separate ; and with equal consistency and plainness, traces the causes and effects of salvation : it has prescribed—" these things I will that thou affirm constantly, that they which have believed in God, be careful to maintain good works." Extinguish the light afforded by this despised vol- ume, and you are precisely in the situation of the heathen world. I close the Bible ; and there re- mains to you a hope without a foundation, assault- ed by a thousand dismal apprehensions. The planets which roll over your head declare match- less wisdom, and incalculable immensity. They write in the heavens the name of Deity; and the attributes of power, majesty, and immutability. But where is the record of pardon ? It is neither written by the sun-beam, nor wafted on the breeze. Where is the record of immortality ? It is not in- scribed on the face of the heavens, nor revealed by the operations of nature. "The depth saith, 'It is not in me I' and the sea saith, ' It is not in me !' " Look abroad into creation. "Canst thou by searching find out God ? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is high as heaven! what canst thou do ? deeper than hell ! what canst thou know ? The measure thereof is longer than the earth ; it is broader than the sea !" 14 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. SENSE, REASON, AND FAITH. Sense, Reason, and Faith, may be considered as progressive steps, by which the mind ascends to the invisible God. Creation is an object of Sense. The hght which shines upon my path is an emblem of the purity of Deity. The meridian sun is an image of his uncreated glory, who is the centre of every system. Whether I gaze upon the heavens, and trace the revolutions of orbs which move there: or follow the eccentric comet through its protract- ed sphere, so far as it is visible: or examine the insect that flits by me, or tiie blade of grass upon which I trample ; I perceive the operations, and adore the wisdom of the Divinity. His voice speaks in the thunder-storm ; and when his light- ning bursts from the bosom of the dark cloud, " my flesh trembleth for fear of his judgments." Fanned with the breath of the morning, or the gale of the evening ; standing in this plain, or on that mountain ; dwelling on the dry land, or float- ing on the surface of the deep — I am still with God. Reason takes up the process where Sense fails. It deduces inferences respecting invisible things from those " which do appear." Nature wafts the mind to the Creator. From its majesty. Reason argues his greatness; from its endless variety, his bounty ; from its uses, his wisdom. The founda- tion of the Temple of Knowledge is laid deep, wide, and lasting, on the face of the universe. BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 15 Reason seizes such materials as Sense can furnish, and carries on the buiKling. But, alas, the edifice remains incomplete ! The architect is skilful, but tlie materials are scanty. Tiiose which are most es- sential to crown the work, lie far from this country bej'ond the grave. In vain imagination lends her assistance, and attempts to explore the land of spirits, where only they are to be found. Bewilder- ed, exhausted, and powerless, the artist sits down in silent despair. Here Faith takes up the tools which fell from the hand of Reason. Revelation ascertains all that futurity had concealed ; and Faith draws her materials from Revelation. The building rises, and shall continue to rise, "till the to|)-stone is brought forth with shouting." For "faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen." Sense cannot introduce us to the invisible Maj- esty of heaven. It can only present us with his image. The pure, ethereal light — the blaze of a noontide sun — the azure heavens, and revolving orbs — the mysterious, eccentric comet — the insect curiously wrought, and the grass simply elegant — the thunder-storm — the lightning, vivid and irre- sistible — the morning and evening breeze — the verdant plain, and the elevated mountain — the sol- id earth, and the rolling seas — these all reflect the glory of Deity, all bear the impress of his hand, all develope his wonderful agency — but they are not God himself. 16 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. Reason ascends a little higher; and from the volume of nature, through the medium of sense, unfolds a little of the divine nature, and a few of his perfections. His immensity, his wisdom, his liberality, may be inferred from every thing which I behold : but, alas, I am still at a distance from God! What is he to me? What does he require? Have I disobeyed the dictates of reason at any time? or neglected to serve him? If so, will he pardon sin? and how ami to receive forgiveness? Neither reason nor sense can answer these in- quiries, nor silence the clamours of conscience. It is Faith rising on the wing of Revelation that introduces me into the heaven of heavens, unlocks the mystery, and unfolds the seven-sealed book* Here I read the covenant of mercy. Here I re- ceive the promise of pardon. Here I learn all that I would know, and anticipate all that I shall here- after enjoy. The pressure of the ills of life is lightened; and I "endure as seeing Him who is invisible." BEAUTIES OF NATURE. Who can behold the fair structure of the heavens and the earth without feeling a powerful desire to understand their origin, and to be acquainted, in some measure at least, with the Architect who reared them ? Cold is the heart which kindles not into devotion, when the skies blaze with a thousand lamps ; and grovelling the mind, which rises not BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 17 through the system of the universe to the Great First Cause ! Brmd is that understanding which cannot see, amid the vicissitudes of seasons, and the chang- ing blessings of the spring, the summer, the autumn, and the winter, the superintendence of a faithful friend, and the bounty of an unwearied benefac- tor! Insensible is that man who can look upon this grand machinery, and live in the bosom of creation, yet perceive no harmony, no order, no loveliness, no design ; or upon whom they make no impression ! Let the friend of my choice be one who can relish the majesty of nature: who on the close of the day, from the sumnjit of some lofty mountain, will watch the rising cloud, and observe the evening spread her grey and dusky mantle over the features of the landscape, till they are lost and extinguished: whose eye is fixed with delight on the stars as they break one by one through the in- creasing obscurity ; and who, withdrawing from the workl, and penetrating the forest, can rejoice with the laughing scenes around him, and can relish retirement, nor envy the dissipation of life, as he hears its noise swelling on the gale of the evening. The friend of God, and the admirer of nature, is the man whom I would choose as my companion, and love as my own soul. THE BEING OF A GOD. If the world be not the production of chance, and if it be not eternal, it follows that it must have been created — in order to which there must have 18 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. been an infinite Architect. We have seen human reason led into labyrinths, from which it could not be extricated but by the friendly assistance of Rev- elation. To the eye of nature, all is obscurity. We have received decisive evidences from notori- ous facts, that when an investigation of these sub- jects has been attempted by men of the first talents independently of this infallible guide, the mortify- ing and inevitable result has been, bewildered sys- tems, trembling uncertainty, clashing, contradictory theories. " There is a path which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture's eye hath not seen ; the lion's whelps have not trodden it, nor hath the fierce lion passed by it." These secret paths are the operations of God, sought out by those who love him, and discovered only by the direction of his word, and the agency of his spirit. Admit the being of a God, and all is clear and luminous. Every difficulty vanishes; for what cannot Omni- potence perform? "The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God." Can he deserve a milder name who holds his irrational creed ? All nature proclaims his existence ; and every feeling of the heart is responsive to its voice. The instant we begin to breathe, our connection with God is com- menced, and it is a connection which cannot be dissolved forever. All other unions are formed for a season only ; time will waste them ; death will destroy them; but this connection looks death in the face, defies the injuries of time, and is com- mensurate with the ages of eternity. The moment BEAUTIES OF COLLIER. 19 we are capable of distinguishing between good and evil, our responsibility to God is begun— it commences with the dawn of reason, it looks for- ward to the judgment seat as its issue. At every period, and under every circumstance of human life, man still draws his existence from the "Foun- tain of life:" he may be cut off from society, but cannot be separated from God : he may renounce his fellow men, but never can burst the bonds of obligation by which he is held to his Maker, till he shall have acquired the power to extinguish that immaterial principle within him, which can never be subjected to decay, or to dissolution. The last sigh which rends the bursting heart, terminates the correspondence between man and man ; but strengthens the union between God and man. All the springs of enjoyment and of existence are hidden in the Deity, and the fates of the human race are suspended in the balances sustained by his unshaken arm. It is an object of the first mag- nitude, to learn something of the Being with whom we stand thus intimately and inseparably connect- ed ; who is light and warmth in the sun, softness in the breeze, power in the tempest, and the prin- ciple which pervades and animates, which regu- lates and sustains universal nature : but to deny his existence, is the madness of desperation, and the temerity of presumption; of all insanity it is the worst; and of all ingratitude, it is the deepest. I see him rolling the planets in their orbits, control- ling the furious elements, and stretching an irresist- 20 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. ible sceptre over all things created. 1 see the globe suspended and trembling in his presence; and the kingdoms of this world, absorbed in his empire, rising to distinction, or falling into irrecov- erable desolation, according to the council of his will. My heart is not at ease. J am instructed, but not tranquillized. The infinity of God over- whelms me ; his majesty swallows me up ; his in- flexible justice and purity fill me with dismay; his power makes me afraid. It is this volume which first brings me acquainted with him as God, and afterwards as a friend : which represents him at once the Creator and Redeemer of the human race ; and while his attributes command my admiration, his mercy forbids my terror. THE DELUGE. The world have ever been blind to their best in- terests; have ever sported with their own ruin. When Noah laid the first beams of his ark across each other, it is probable he did it amid the insult- ing shouts of an hardened multitude. The build- ing advanced. Some admired the structure ; some derided his plan; some charged him vvith enthu- siasm, or with insanity ; more were lost in sensu- ality ; and all united in the desperate resolution to bury his admonitions in the grave of oblivion. Still he entreated; still they spurned his instructions; still the edifice rose day after day ; still the voice of gaiety was echoed on every side. With strange BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 21 infatuation, they stopped their ears ; and refused to "Usten to the voice of the charmer;" who so- licited them with unwearied perseverance, and reasoned "so wisely." The roof is at length cov- ered in. The danger becomes every hour more imminent. He presses his warnings upon them with increased energy ; but, pointing to the un- clouded sky, they laugh him to scorn, and load his ministration with contempt. It is closed! The last exhortation has been given ; and he has wiped the last tear of insulted tenderness from his cheek. Ye blind, insensible mortals! what charm has "holden your eyes," that ye cannot see? Discern ye not the cloud that gathers over yonder moun- tain ? The brute creation see it; and hasten for shelter to the ark. The family of Noah close the procession ; they have entered their refuge ; and even now "the door is shut!" Oh ! it is too late ! Fraught with heavy indignation, the tempest lowers fearfully. Every " face gathers blackness." Yet scarcely is it perceived, before a new scene of ruin presents itself. Ah I there is no esca})ing the hand of God! The skies pour an unabating torrent. An hollow groan is heard through universal nature, deploring the impending destruction. The birds and beasts which remain, excluded from the ark, scream and howl in the woods, whither they had fled for shelter. The sea assaults the shore; the restriction of heaven is removed ; it passes its an- cient boundaries ; it triumphs already over the plains, and gains upon the hills. The ark floats 22 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. upon its bosom. The despairing multitude fasten upon it an eye of distraction : they implore in vain the assistance of the prophet whom they had des- pised, and whose pitying eyes are again suffused with unavailing tears. He can bear it no longer. He retires to the innermost recesses of his vessel. In the phrenzy of despair, parents clasp their chil- dren to their cold bosoms, and flee to the highest mountains. Where else could they resort for shelter? for the boundless sea saps the foundation of the firmest edifices. What is their desperation as the waves approach the summit ! It is equally impossible to descend, to rise higher, or to escape. They have prolonged a miserable existence a few hours, only to sink at last! — It is all in vain! "The waters prevail exceedingly; every high hill is covered ; and fifteen cubits" over their loftiest summits, the flood rises in haughty triumph! PRIDE OF THE HEART. It was pride that dictated the haughty lan- guage of the king of Babylon, when, from the bat- tlements of his palace, he looked down upon his beautiful city, and said — " Is not this great Babylon, that I have built for the house of the kingdom, by the might of my power, and for the honour of my majesty ?" O, how the " pride of his heart deceiv- ed" him! "While the word was in the king's mouth, there fell a voice from heaven, saying, O Jsing Nebuchadnezzar, to thee it is spoken ; the BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 23 kingdom is departed from thee !" The " same hour was he driven from men," and his "dweUing was with the beasts of the field :" his reason was witli- drawn, and his body was wet with the dew of heaven." Behold, he that would be thought a God, is become less tljan a man ! Nor were the balances of power again put into his hand till he had been brought to confess, "that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will ;" and to acknowledge, in a repentant decree, that "those who walk in pride, he is able to abase." nap[.y had it been for his successor, if this awful display of divine justice had wrought in his heart obedience. But Belshazzar learned not wisdom from his grandfather's humiliation. He exceeded his great progenitor in impiety. He stood on the pinnacle of empire, till he was giddy with gazing upon the rolling world beneath him! The forces of Cyrus surrounded the city; but, trusting in its impregnable strength, the defence of tlie river, and the greatness of his stores, he laughed his enemies to scorn. The feast was spread, and the revellings fiad commenced. Death hovered round his court, and destruction brooded over his city, while he was sunk in senseless security. And now, the voice of joy, and the noise of riot, resound through the palace. The monarch calls upon his nobles to devote the hours to gaiety ; to scatter their fears to the winds ; to drink defiance to the warrior ad- vancing to their very gates ; and, to fill the meas- 24 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. ure of his iniquity, to add insult to the miseries of his captives, to crown dissipation with sacrilege, he requires, last of all, the vessels of the sanctuary, that they might be profaned by their application to not merely common uses, but to the vile purposes of debauchery. It is done. The king is lost in unbounded pleasure, and intoxicated with unlimit- ed power. In one moment the voice of riot ceases — silence, as profound as the stillness of the grave, reigns through the whole palace — every tongue is chained — every eye is fixed — despair lowers on every countenance — the charm is broken — and the night of feasting is turned into unutterable horror! See I yonder shadow, wearing the appearance of the fingers of a man's hand, glides along the wall of the palace opposite the monarch, and writes, in mysterious characters, "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin." What has changed that youthful countenance ? What has chased its bloom of beauty, and drawn on it the strong lines of misery ? Behold this king who lately dreamed that he was more than mortal, trembling on his throne ! '• The joints of his loins are loosed, and his knees smite one against another !" What the army of Cyrus could not do, a supernatural hand, writing four little w^ords, has effected ; and his soul melts with- in him through terror ! But say, What is the cause of this premature distress? Perhaps yonder in- scription declares the permanence of his kingdom ; and inscribes, in those hidden characters, the de- etruction of his enemies 7 Ah no ! Conscience BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 25 read too well the handwriting ; and interpreted the solemn sentence of impending ruin, long before Daniel explained the inscription! While all was riot during the first part of the night, and dismay during the remainder, Cyrus had diverted the river from its course, had entered the city through its exhausted channel, un perceived, and was now at the palace gates. The etnpire was lost; the cap- tive Jews were liberated; and "that same night was Belshazzar, the king of the Chaldeans slain." Behold another, added to the innumerable sad evi- dences, that the "pride of the heart" fatally '"de- ceives," and finally ruins those who cherish it. MEMORIALS OF GRATITUDE. As Abraham journied in the road by which he had descended into Egypt, he came again to an altar, wiiich he had before set Uj), in his way tiiith- er. Sweet are the recollections of kindnesses re- ceived ; and pleasant the memorials of mercies departed! If we were to accustom ourselves to rear tokens of remembrance for every assistance which we derive from God, and to erect an altar where we receive a mercy, how many evidences for good would be presented in the retrospection of our lives ; and the review of the past would create confidence for the future. The moss might grow over the pillar, and the fire of the altar would go out; but the inscription would be fresh on the 3 26 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. tablet of memoiy, and gratitude would kindle the purer flame of affection in the heart. Thus Abram reared an altar in his way to Egypt ; and found it again on his return. Thus Jacob elevated a pillar at Bethel, after his vision of God ; and with what feelings did he revisit it, when he was delivered from his fears, and increased in his blessings ! Thus " Samuel took a stone, and set it up between Mizpah and Shen, and called the name of it Eben- ezer, saying, ' Hitherto hath the Lord helped us!'" It is not necessary that we should erect tliese out- ward memorials: but let the pillar be raised in our bosotLS, and the inscription read in our lives! DESTRUCTION OF SODOM. We have selected for our contemplation the moment when the attention is arrested by the con- viction of impending danger; and the pointof his- tory where the interest of the reader is excited in anticipation of its issue. The sacred writer discov- ers in this, as in every record of his pen, singular ability in touching the heart; while he preserves a wonderful simplicity throughout the whole nar- ration. All is nature in his descriptions ; and his assertions bear on their very face the impress of truth. With what grandeur the scene opens upon us. The day dawns, which is to vanish from the eyes of the wicked before its meridian ; and they gaze, unconscious of danger, upon the earliest glories of BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 27 the east, which are so soon, as it respects them, to be extinguished in eternal night. Lot emerges from the polluted scenes of depravity, an instance of the goodness of God ; and escapes the desolation which demonstrated his just severity. '■''And when tht morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot, say- ing, Arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters, which are here ; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city." The night is the season of alarm and of danger. As the gloom thickens, every object wears a por- tentous aspect. Its solemnity deepens the cloud of affliction; and throws a darker shade over sor- row itself. It is the time for awful deeds. Then the murderer stalks abroad to destroy ; and his " feet are swift to shed blood." Then the adul- tress spreads her toils to ensnare. Then violence is prepared to "smite with the fist of wickedness ;" and the thief treads softly, that he may "break through and steal." Then the sinner hastens to iniquity, in imaginary security under the covert of midnight, and says, in the ignorance and presump- tion of his heart, "Tush I God doth not see!" It was at night, that the destroying angel passed through Egypt to slay the first-born : at night, that the sword of the Lord penetrated the camp of Assyria, and destroyed an hundred and eighty-five thousand men : at night, that the shadow of a hand wrote on the wall of Belshazzar's palace, the de- parture of his kingdom, the close of his glories and of his life together, and the scrutiny of justice with 28 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. its perilous consequences. But the day has ever been regarded as the season of security. The first ray of the morning chases the phantoms of the imagination, and terminates the horrors of fancy. Liglit discovers real peri!, and bears with it the means of escape. When the day breaks upon us, it scatters peace, and joy, and safety in its smiles. Ah, how little do we know where danger lurks, and when the dream of happiness shall be broken! Sodom escapes the peril of the night, to fall by un- expected vengeance in the morning! '■''Jind while he lingered^'' — who that had a heart to feel, and connections to relinquish, could refrain? — "tvhile he lingered, the men laid hold ujion his hand, and upon the hand of his u'ife, and upon the hand of his two daughters ; the Lord heing merciful unto him : and they brought him forth, and set him without the city.^^ A gentle constraint is laid upon him to snatch him from ruin. It is thus that we feel a di- vine power gently attracting us from the world to the cross : we are drawn with " the cords of love :" no violence is imposed upon our will in leading us from the paths of death: but we feel and acknowl- edge, that it is HE, " who worketh in us to will and to do his own good pleasure." It is thus, when our wandering hearts "follow lying vanities, and forsake their own mercies," that God sends some gentle and salutary affliction to chastise our folly and to bring our spirit home to its rest. "And it came to pass, ivhen they had brought them forth abroad, that he said. Escape for thy life ; look BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 29 not behind thee^ neither stay thou in all the plain ; escape to the mountain., lest thou he consumed." Judgment once awakened, is not always directed to discriminate characters ; and the righteous are sometimes permitted to suffer in the general ca- lamity. It is not safe to dwell in the tents of sin ; and those who take up their abode in the taberna- cles of the wicked, must be content to share their portion, and their punishment — at least, in the present life. Nothing short of a total separation from them can afford security : for to linger on the plain is as hazardous as to tarry in the city. ^^And Lot said unto them, O, not so, my Lord." In the very midst of danger, and while the cloud of ruin hangs over his head, self-willed man cannot refrain from opposing his opinions to the arrangements of Deity; and it must be "according to his mind," or be will scarcely be satisfied with his deliverance. ^^ Behold now, thy servant hath found grace in thy sight" — should he therefore presume? — and thou hast magnijied thy mercy, which thou hast showed unto me in saving my life ;" should he not therefore be satisfied ? Is the goodness of God a reason why he should tempt his forbearance? ^^ and I cannot escape to the mountain" — why not? What shall hinder when God leads the way ? what can suc- cessfully oppose, when he commands? — ^'lest some evil take me, and 1 die I" O thou of little faith! wherefore didst thou doubt? Was not he who led thee forth from the midst of a people given over to utter desolation, strong to deliver ? Was 30 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. he not able to preserve thee ? And had he not given a tacit pledge of security, in the very com- mand which he issued ? ^^ Behold now, this city is near tojlee unto, and it is a little one'''' — it is a small request that I prefer, in comparison with the un- solicited mercy which thou hast already manifest- ed ; or, it is a little city, and may well be spared in so wide and general a destruction as thine offended justice meditates — " Oh, let me escape thither, (is it not a little one ?j and my soul shall live.^^ What is the punishment which awaits the man who dares to lift his little plans to a competition with the wis- dom of Deity ? Let us adore the long suffering of God ! Heaven lends a gracious ear to this suppli- cation : " and he said unto him. See, I have accepted thee concerning this thing also, that I ivill not over- throw this city, for the which thou hast spoken^ How consistent is this with the character of God, who delighteth to have mercy, and to for- give. Lot had an high gratification in seeing this little object of his compassion escape the de- vastation of its vicinity, if benevolence urged his plea; but if selfishness dictated it, as the narrative seems to insinuate, he was greatly disap])ointed : for although his request was granted, his terrors suffered him not to derive from it the advantage which he proposed ; since he afterwards abandon- ed the retreat which he had chosen, and fled to the mountain, whither God had first directed him, "for he feared to dwell in Zoar." ^'•Haste thee, es- cape thither ;^^ thy presence disarms my wrath, and BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 31 withholds my righteous vengeance ; for I cannot do any thing till thou he come thither^ Behold the value and importance of one righteous man! It was the lip of infalhble truth which said of his dis- ciples, "Ye are the salt of the earth!" " T/iere- fore,^^ in remembrance of the successful plea of Lot, "//je name of the city was called Zoar f' which signifies little, and relates to the argument which its intercessor used. Most of the names given to persons, and to things, in the scriptures, bear a reference to some signal circumstances, more near- ly, or remotely connected with them. '•'■The sun was risen upon the earth, ivhen Lot en- tered into ZoarP This calm is perfectly natural, and agrees with ahnost every account transmitted to us of tempests, earthquakes, and great convul- sions of nature. We know that the wind usually falls, and that there is a profound serenity diffused over the atmosphere, before a storm. The former part of that day in which Lisbon was destroyed by an earthquake, was uncommonly fine ; and the danger was not even apprehended, tdl an unusual subterraneous noise, and a slight trembling of the ground, preceded, for a few moments, the first great shock, which almost levelled the whole city. This same agitation of the earth was almost uni- versal, and extended nearly over the whole globe ; and in every place where it was felt, the same tranquillity was observed to reign, before the calam- ity was endured. This calm, however, is unspeak- ably dreadful! Who can read this single verse 32 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. without shuddering ? As the destruction was un- expected, it was the more terrible ; and as it was sudden, it admitted of no escape. The sons-in- law of Lot mocked his admonitions ; and they were roused to a sense of their importance and truth, only by the hand of death. Let this consideration prepare us for a still greater event, in the solemni- ties of which we must all participate ; and which will be equally sudden and unexpected ; for "as it was in the days of Lot, even so shall the coming of the Son of man be !" " Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah^ hrimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven, and he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.'^'' Some commentators translate the words "brimstone and fire," 5mn5fo7ie infiamed ; and the interpretation which they build upon this translation is, that brimstone inflamed, in the Hebrew wStyle of writing, signifies neither more nor less than lightning. It is reasonable to conclude, that this lightning penetrated so far into the veins of bitumen, with which these plains are known to be impregnated, as to enkindle the com- bustible matter ; which would quickly communi- cate its heat and flame to the cities, and to the whole country, more entirely and expeditiously than the lava of a burning mountain lays waste the lands over which it flows : and after consum- ing all that was capable of such a destruction, formed the heavy, fetid, unwholesome lake, called BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 33 the Dead Sea, from its wide expansion, and the stillness of its waters. Justin observes, respecting this sea, tliat it cannot be moved by the winds, by reason of the hirge quantity of bitumen immersed in it ; which also renders it incapable of being nav- igated. The same remark will not be found to apply to the same sea, in the present day; as we have instances of some modern travellers having ventured to bathe in it: but this also may be ac- counted for on the same principle; the ditninution of the bitumen ; which is continually removed, by persons on the spot, as it emerges from this singu- lar lake. Neither is it true that no bird will adven- ture to stretch his wing across it, as some ancient writers have asserted — for many have been ob- served to sport along its dreary banks : but the salt with which it is impregnated is inimical to veg- etation ; its waves retain a sufficient degree of malignity to endanger the health of those who are rash enough to plunge into its unnatural waters ; and it retains a sufficient degree of desolation, to justify the description of the destruction sug- gested in the present Lecture, and to confirm the general account of antiquity, making a reasonable allowance for the alterations which time may be supposed to have effiicted. ^^ But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar ofsalt.^^ A learned writer* ob- * Dr. Taylor, in his Scheme of Scripture Divinity. 4 34 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. serves, " The sulphureous storm did not begin to fall upon Sodom, till Lot was safely arrived at Zoar. But his wife looked back hefore he reached Zoar: for she looked back from behind hini, as he was going to Zoar. When she looked back, Sodom and its plains appeared as pleasant as before. She looked back with affection to the place, and regret at leaving it: according to the import of the orig- inal word. This implied unbelief" She wavered — "she stopped by the way, and left her husband to go by himself" — in the fluctuations of her mind, " fche would proceed no farther ; and might be at a considerable distance from Zoar, and so near to Sodom, as, probably, to be involved in the terrible shower, and thereby turned into a nitro-sulphure- ous pillar :" — or at least to be suffocated by it, and incrusted with it. "This gives proper force to our Lord's admonition, Rememher Lofs wife. Let the judgment of God upon /ler, warn you of the folly and danger of hankering after, and being loath to part with, small and tem[)orai things, when your life and happiness, the greatest and most lasting concerns, are at stake." SARAH'S GRAVE. Humanity requires us to drop a tear, also, over the grave of the once lovely Sarah, who "died in Kirjath-arba." Twelve years after the '^rial of his faith, tiiis heavy stroke of calamity 7ell upon him; "and Abraham came to mourn for BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 35 Sarah, and to weep for her." Let not the unfeel- ing and the gay, break in upon the sacred privacy of domestic sorrow ! It is not the semblance of grief which spreads a cloud over the forehead of yonder venerable patriarch : real and unaffected an- guish causes those tears to flow. She had been long the companion of his life— she had shared his joys and sorrows— she had sojourned in tents with him, a stranger in a strange land— she had regarded him with fondness up to her hundred and twenty- seventh year. Her communion and friendship had sweetened his distresses, and lightened his labours. The dissolving of this long connection was loosen- ing the fibres which entwined about his heart; and while he exhibited the resignation of a saint, he felt as a man. Before "the cave of the field of Machpelah" closes its mouth forever upon the precious dust, let the young and the beautiful come and look, for the last time, upon the person whose loveliness had kindled desire in every bosom, and had more than once ensnared her husband. Let them gaze upon the dishonour of that cheek, which even time had respected, and age had spared. Let them learn a lesson of humility, while they be- hold the triumphs of death, and hear a husband entreating " a possession of a burying place, that he may bury his dead out of his sight," and hide that form from his eyes, which he had never before be- held but with rapturous delight ! 86 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. PATRIARCHAL FAITH, or TRIAL OF ABRAM. It is impossible to pass through Canaan without turning aside to the land of Moriah, and contem- plating the sacred mountain on which a patri- arch's faith triumphed over a father's feelings. According to the promise of God, Isaac was born when Abraham was an hundred years old. ' He had seen his son preserved from the perils of in- fancy. His mother had gazed with unspeakable pleasure upon her child — the son of her vows, who was now fast pressing towards manhood. The parents of this amiable youth were looking for- ward to a peaceful dismission from the toils of life, and to the happy termination of a tranquil old age. Abraham " planted a grove in Beersheba," and rested under its shadow. This quiet retreat, alas, is not im}>ervious to sorrow ! This delightful se- renity resembles the stillness of the air which usually precedes a tempest — it bodes approaching ti'ial. "And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Take now thy soit, thine only son, Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah ; and oifer him there for a burnt offering u})on one of the mountains which I shall tell thee of." What a command was this I To stain his hand with the blood of a lamb which he had fed, would be a task to a feeling mind ; but the requisition is for a "Son." To select one from a numerous family, would be a cruel effort. Let the mother look BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 37 round upon her children when they are assembled before her Hke a flock, and say which she could spare from among them! But the demand is, "take thine onljj son" — in whom the life of both parents is bound up. To part with an only child for a season, opens the fountain of a mother's tears, and adds to the grey hairs of his father. To lose him by death, is to cause them to go bitterly in the anguish of their soul all their days. What was it, then, to offer an only son as a sacrifice, and to be himself the priest who should plunge the knife in- to his bosom ? But he obeys — obeys without a murmur! He rises early in the morning to immo- late his child, and to offer, on the altar of God, all that he held most dear in this world. On the third day, the destined mountain marks its elevation along the line of the horizon, and meets the eye of the afflicted parent. The servants are not permit- ted to witness the awful scene, the solemnity of which they might disturb by lamentations — or the execution of which they might prevent by force — or, wanting their master's faith, might draw from it inferences unfavourable to religion. At this mo- ment, to awaken in his bosom extreme torture, " Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father : and he said, here am I, my son. And he said. Behold, the fire and the wood ; but where is the lamb for a burnt offering? And Abraham Baid, My son, God shall provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering : so they went both of them to- gether." But we will no longer attempt to scent 88 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. the violet, and to paint the rainbow. We must draw a veil over the scene ; for who can enter into a father's anguish, as he raised his hand against his child ? and who shall be bold enough to attempt a description of his rapture, when Heaven, which had put his faith to so severe a trial, commanded him to forbear, and indeed provided itself a victim? THE ORPHAN BOY. How interesting he appears to every feeling mind ! A child robbed of his mother, excites uni- versal commiseration, and commands affection from every bosom. We look forwards with anxiety to every future period of his life ; and our prayers and our hopes attend every step of his journey. We mingle our tears with his, on the grave of her, whose maternal heart has ceased to beat; for we feel that he is bereaved of the friend and guide of his youth ! His father would, but cannot, supply her loss. In vain the whole circle of his friendships blend their efforts to alleviate his sorrows, and to fill the place occupied by departed worth: a moth- er must be missed every moment, by a child who has ever known, and rightly valued one, when she sleeps in the grave. No hand feels so soft as her's — no voice sounds so sweet — no smile is so pleasant I Never shall he find again, in this wide wilderness, such sympathy, such fondness, such fidelity, such tenderness, as he experienced from BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 39 his mother ! The wliole world are moved with com{)assion for that motherless child: but the whole world cannot supply her place to him ! THE GOD OF NATURE. Why does my heart beat with pulsations of rap- ture, when my eye measures yonder heavens, or glides over hills and vaUies along the surface of this beautiful world? When the dew sparkles up- on the ground, a kindred tear glitters upon my countenance : but it is not the tear of sorrow; it springs from a well of unspeakable pleasure which I feel flowing within my bosom ! Is it merely the softness or the grandeur of the scenery by which I am surrounded, that affects me? No! but my spirit meets a Parent walking invisibly on the globe that he formed, and working manifestly on my right hand and on my left. All these lovely objects are the productions of his skill, the result of his wisdom, the tokens of his benevolence, the imper- fect images of his greatness. Every thing demon- strates the being and perfections of Deity. I see him empurpling the east before the sun in the morning, and wheeling the orb on which I live round upon its axis. I behold him throwing the mantle of darkness over me in the evening, and kindling the skies into radiance by unveihng suns and worlds without number and without end. I gath- er a flower, and am revived by its fragrance ; I see shade melting into shade infinitely above any com- 40 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. bination of colours, which art can produce. To aid the organ of vision, I inspect, through the mi- croscope, an insect. I see it painted into a thou- sand brilliances, and displaying a thousand beau- ties, imperceptible to the naked eye. I stand con- vinced that no mortal pencil could delineate the loveliness of its form. I perceive a grain of corn peeping above the earth. It scarcely rears its light green head over the ground. I visit it day after day, and month after month. It gradually in- creases. It is an inch — it is a foot in height. Now it assumes a new shape. It vegetates afresh. The ear begins to form — to expand — to fill. Now it has attained its growth — it ripens — it is matured. I have narrowly watched the progress of vegeta- tion ; and have seen its advancement. I beheld every day adding something to its height, and to its perfection : but the hand which raised it from " the blade to the ear, and to the " full corn in the ear," escaped my researches. I find a crysalis, and watch the secret movements of nature. The in- sect is shrouded in a living tomb. It begins to stir — it increases in strength — and the-butterfly breaks from its confinement. Meeting with ten thousand such wonderful productions every day — I recog- nise in them the great Spirit that animates all cre- ated nature, and I am compelled to acknowledge, " O Lord our Governor ! how excellent is thy name in all the earth ; and thou hast set thy glory above the heavens." I pass on to the animal creation. There I per- ceive other operations, and am overwhelmed with BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 41 new wondeis. Tlie principle on which they act, and wliich is termed instinct, is the gift of God ; and it appears to differ from the immortal principle in man, in its confinement to a certain inferior standard, and in its direction to one particular pur- suit, adapted to the peculiar nature and exi- gencies of its possessor. I see the timid acquiring courage while they have a maternal part to per- form ; and, forgetting to measure the disproportion between their own strength and that of their an- tagonist, holdly assaulting those superior animals, which designedly or unintentionally, disturb the repose of their young. Their instinct enables them to perform those things to which it is particularly adapted, with more order and facility than man, v.ith his superior understanding can accomplish ; and, with the simple tools of nature, they effect that which the complex machinery of art cannot produce. All the animate creation, from the ele- phant, and " that great leviathan," among animals, to the bee, and the ant, among insects, still con- duct us to the invisible God ; and we say " The earth is full of thy riches ; so is this great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts. O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all." 42 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. HUMANITY IS CONCERNED IN THE SPREAD OF THE GOSPEL. One should have imagined that the gospel of Je- sus could have no enemies. It breathes only peace. It lias but one subject — to promote the felicity of mankintl. It sweetens every connection of human life. It strengthens the cause of philanthropy. The only favour it entreats is, that men would love themselves: and while it pours a thousand bless- ings on the present transient existence, and light- ens all the trials of the way, it shows wretched, err- ing man, " the path of life." And yet every man's hand is lifted up against it ! From its birth to the present hour, every age has blended all its wisdom and all its force, to crush Christianity. Had it re- quired the man to sacrifice " his first-born for his trangression, the fruit of his body for the sin of his soul" — who would have wondered that nature should rise up against it? — Yet, strange to say, the horrible religion of the Gentiles, which actually did require this unnatural oflfering, was supported, and defended against Christianity, with vehement ob- stinacy. The rage of man, on the one side, ex- hausted itself in defence of altars on which their children had been immolated ; and on the other, was directed against a religion which hastened to overthrow these blood-stained altars, and which said, " Suflier little children to come unto me, and forbid them not ; for of such is the kingdom of heaven I"— -Had it destroyed the peace and exis- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 43 tence of society; had it scattered war and blood- shed over the earth ; had it trampled on the dear- est rights of human nature— why then, some rea- son might be given for the wrath of man against it. But it disseminates " peace and good will to man," abroad upon earth, while it brings in a rev- enue of " glory to God." We can take its most fu- rious persecutor by the hand, when he raves, " Away with it from the^earth !" and say, "Why ? What evil hath it done ?" And he shall be unable to assign a single reason for his conduct: unable to lay one sin to its charge : unable lo prove that in any one instance it is injurious to society : una- ble to deny that it has been productive of the most beneficial effects— that it has removed all the clouds of heathenism.— that it has extinguished the fires through which wretched parents caused their chil- dren to pass, and in which the fruit of their body was consumed— that it has given to the world a new and perfect code of morality — that it has thrown open the gates of mortality — that it has re- moved the bitterness of death — and that it has es- tablished, solely and unaided, the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead: he shall be compelled to admit all this, and yet, without a single reason, merely from his natural enmity to it, he will con- tinue to despise, to reject, and to persecute it ! Hu- manity is concerned in the progress of this reli- gion : Humanity raises her voice in favour of rev- elation, and entreats, " Rise up, Lord, let thine en- emies be scattered ; and let them that hate thee, flee before thee!" 44 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. MAN THE SAME IN ALL AGES. Customs change with years. Yet is man in the present day, what he was in ages that are passed ; only he was surrounded by different scenes, he was led by different habits. His peculiar situation, his local circumstances, exist no longer : but he had the same principles common to human nature, the same feelings, the same necessities, the same ex- pectations. Our fathers felt, like ourselves, the pleasures of hope, the anguish of disappointment, the pantings of suspense, the throbbings of joy, the pangs of fear. They lived uncertain of the future. They trembled as they approached the brink of time. The world wliich they now inhabit, and the mysteries of which are now laid apow to them, was once as secret, and as much an object of the min- gled emotions of apprehension and of hope, to them as to us. There were moments when their faith was not in lively exercise, and when the fear of death was as powerfully felt in their bosoms as in our own. Then they fled to this word for support, and derived from it the sweetest consolation. Yes, — and we are hastening to be what they are. Af- ter a few years, we shall join their society. We are floating down the same stream, over which their vessels have already passed: borne along by the same current, we sail between the same wind- ing banks, pass through the same straits, meet with the same rocks and quicksands, and are agitated by the same tempests: but they have safely an- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 45 chored in the haven, and we are stretching all our canvass to make the same point of destination, that with them, we may be sheltered from the storm forever ! We avail ourselves of the direcdons which they have left behind them, because in all ages " the Author and Finisher of our faith" is the same. He will be to future generations, what he was to them, what he is to us. When our poster- ity shall trample upon our dust, when our very names shall have perished from the record of time when new faces shall appear on this wide and busy scene of action, the name of God will remain to our children, the same as it appears this night to us, the same as it was announced to Moses from the bush which burned with fire and was not con- sumed " I AM THAT I AM !" ONE MAN DIFFERS FROM ANOTHER. In respect of talents, man differs from man. We sometimes meet with a spirit emerging from its native obscurity, and attracting the admiration of the world. Every thing conspired to throw the man into the shade. Poverty frowned upon his birth, and shut the doors of knowledge against him. When he entered life, he mingled unnoticed with the crowd. But none could close the book of nature before him, and no disadvantages could suppress the vigour of a spirit, born to rise, and to astonish. Following only the benignity of nature, 46 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. he brings froin his mind such ample stores of ob- servation, and discovers so much native genius, that he ascends at once to eminence ; and like a sun veiled from his rising, reveals at once to the world his glory in its noontide brightness. Hard by him stands one, forced into notice. He was born no- ble and afliuent. Every possible mean ofimprov- ment was put into hishand,and the book of knowl- edge was opened to his view. No pains were spared, no expense was withheld, in his education. And yet his very elevation is painful. It is that of fortune, and not that of nature. He is always placed in a conspicuous situation, to be always despised ; and the literary advantages which he enjoyed, have been unable to correct the deficiences of nature. They descended upon his unfruitful mind, like the showers of the spring upon the sands of the desert, which imbibe the rain, but return neither grass nor flower. In respect of literature, one man dif- fers from another. Here stands a favoured son of science, who has access to nature in all her parts through the avenues of deep and learned research. He has made the dead, and the living, contribute to his pleasure, and to his improvement. He has plundered time of all the treasures, which he had snatched from falling empires, and rescued from the greedy grave of oblivion. And he moves among his fellow men, an angel for illumination, and an oracle for wisdom. There stands his neighbour, gazing with unconscious eyes upon the page, which he is devouring. He sees no beauty in that ora- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 47 tion — no force in thai train of reasoning — no con- clusion in that demonstration — no order in those starry heavens. All access to the tree of knowl- edge is denied to him ; and he turns from the page full of genius, of energy, of intelligence, and says, "I cannot read it, for I am not learned" In re- spect of RAJVK TIN SOCIETY, one mau differs from another. One is born to sway a sceptre, and to rule a powerful empire. Nations tremble at his frown, and princes are his servants. His navy thunders along every hostile shore, and the sword of his army is drunk with the blood of the slain. He trav- els — and a whole country is in motion. Harbin- gers precede his face, guards encompass his per- son, a willing people bow the knee to him. Not daring to lift his eyes, yonder peasant retires, as the equipage passes, and turns his rough hand, rendered hard by labour, to the most menial servi- ces. He eats bread, and drinks water, with heav- iness of heart. A large family multiplies upon him. His children cry with hunger. He gives them all — he divides the last loaf among them, and returns himself faint to the labour of the field, without tast- ing a morsel, lest he should diminish their scanty pittance. And yet he is also a child of humanity ! In respect of religious principle, one man dif- fers from another. Here, is a man who receives every blessing as the gift of Heaven with thankful- ness, who bends with lowly resignation under the stroke which robs iiim of his comforts. In his hab- itation, however humble, the voice of prayer and 48 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. of praise is constantly heard ; and his comforts, however few, are augmented by the benign influ- ences of piety. There, is a wretched man, deem- ed happy by the world, who never bowed his knee before God his maker ; and never knew a gratifi- cation beyond pampering his appetite, and amassing wealth. And yet both are men, and equally re- sponsible to God. REASON AND REVELATION. We are indebted to God himself, for all the in- formation which we possess, in relation to either his nature or his operations. He furnishes the medium through which he is seen in the visible creation, in the arrangements of providence, in the scheme of redemption : and all that we are able to comprehend of " life and immortality," is "brought to light by the gos[)el." The human mind requires a medium tlirough which it may discern God, as the eye requires a medium through which it may see. As that medium to the eye is light, so is the medium of the s[)irit, illumination. It is in vain that creation subsists around me, except I have an organ of vision. To the blind man it is anniliilated. The works of God exist, but not to him : he is in- sensible of their beauties, he never was permitted to admire their symmetry. And it is in vain that we possess an organ of vision, unless some mec^ittm be furnished through which it may operate. I as- cend the mountain at midnight, and look from its BEAUTIES OF COLLI' ER. 49 summit. The landscape around me is the same as at mid-day, and the organ of vision is the same : but light, the medium through Avhich the eye sees, is wanting ; and I look for the river, for the mead- ow, for the mansion, for the hill, for all the beau- ties of the scenery, in vain — I am presented with " an universal blank." It is in vain that, as an intelligent creature, I am surrounded by the works of God, and am furnished with reasoning powers, with a capacity formed to contemplate, to examine, and to admire them, unless I am furnished also with some medium through which they may be seen. Revelation is that medium. Were the eye of reason quenched in the spirit, the mind would be in that state of incapacity to discern the invisi- ble God, as is the man born blind to examine his works. And were the light of revelation extin- guished, although the man were in full possession of his intellectual powers, he would resemble the person on the summit of the mountain at midnight, in vain attempting to explore the landscape : he would possess the organ, but be destitute of the medium ; he would have the eye, but not the light. And for this reason, the apostle represents the heathens, as " feeling after, if haply they might find God^ although he was not far from every one of them :" as men involved in perfect darkness, although possessing the organ of vision, are com- pelled to feel for the object of their pursuit, even when that object is at their side, or before their face. 5 50 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. It will be readily acknowledged, that through the medium of revelation alone, we can form any conception of things which are "not seen as yet." We can know nothing, we can anticipate nothing of futurity, but as revealed religion removes the cur- tain and unveils a portion of invisible objects. But we will venture to assert, that the visil)le creation itself is not beheld to perfection, but through the medium of revelation. "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth his handy work :" but the man, who has never received this divine medium, discerns not that glory. " Day un- to day uttereth speech, night unto night shev/eth knowledge :" " There is no speech, nor language, where their voice is not heard" — but he under- stands not their testimony. For this reason, many have beheld their beauties, and have heard their voice, who have not acknowledged the existence of God ; and, from these alone, none have under- stood his perfections. And if revelation be neces- sary to the developenient of creation, how much njore is it necessary to unfold the mysteries of Providence! After all, but little is at present dis- covered. Our curiosity is repressed, and our im- patience controlled, by the declaration, " what I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." Yet we are permitted, sometimes, through this medium, to comprehend a part of the scheme, that we may form some conception of the magnificence of the whole. God deciphers a lit- tle of his own mysterious handwriting, to prove BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 51 his perfect ability to construe the entire volunie. He makes known a portion of his purposes, as a pledge, that he will hereafter fulfil his engage- ment to show the harmony, the propriet}', anil the wisdom of all. USE OF SACRED HISTORY. It is the glory andtLe beauty of sacred history to make us acquainted with men, and to disclose to us human feelings. No artificial strokes are used in the delineation of character in this volume. No romantic, unnatural circumstances, are recorded as belonging to the individual selected, to raise wonder and to lead captive the fancy: for where miraculous events are asserted, we trace the finger of God, and are no longer surprised, and they bear all the marks of matter of fact, for which some cause is assignable. No false gloss varnishes a de- praved dis{)osition. No unreal splendours dazzle and astonish us. All is natural ; and feeling ourselves among our brethren in the flesh, correspondent emotions spring up within us, when we perceive them agitated by grief or joy ; and we read our own hearts while the narrative permits us to look into theirs. Whether we are overwhelmed with the perplexities of kingdoms, or are occasionally called to the field of battle ; whether we witness the slaughter of our fellow-men, or are involved in the intrigues and policies of worldly courts : or whether we enter the tranquil bosom of a family, 52 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. and share their domestic comforts and trials, and read in these hallowed pages the same scenes which pass before our eyes every day that we live ; we mark, with equal gratification and advantage, the developement of the plans of Providence, in relation both to public and domestic life; and de- duce from it some inferences applicable to the deal- ings of God, with us, as a nation, or as individuals. Who can read the scriptures without feeling that instruction and amusement are combined ? Plea- sure and religious information intermingle, and are blended. The imagination is captivated, the heart is warmed, the judgment is enlightened, the spirit is refreshed and invigorated. HORRORS OF WAR. When war is awakened, the judgments of God are abroad in the earth. Thus have we seen to- night a people distinguished for their religious privileges, for their prosperity, and for their sepa- ration from all other nations, devoted to destruc- tion because of their transgressions. Let us learn, that whenever the sword is permitted to devour, it is to chastise the inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity. War is horrible in its nature and in its effects. It separates the dearest and the closest connections of human nature. One battle renders thousands of wives, widows : thousands of children, fatherless : thousands of parents, childless : thousands of spirits ruined beyond redemption! See, pressing into yonder slippery, BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 53 empurpled field, throngs of all ages, seeking their own among the dead! In this disfigured countenance the child discerns with difficulty the features of his father. In that mangled body dwelt the spirit which was the prop and the glory of yonder silvery head, now bowed down over it in silent, unspeakable sorrow. There the widow washes the wounds of her husband with her tears. And how few of that dreadful list of slaughtered men were fit to die ! Surely war was let loose upon the world as a curse, in the just anger of God. WRITERS OF THE SCRIPTURES,- WISE AND GOOD MEN. Who will call in question the understanding or the accomplishments of Moses ? Under what cir- cumstances of honour has his name been transmit- ted through ages and generations, till, irradiated with all its pristine glory, it has reached even these latter days! To a mind far above the common standard— to talents the most illustrious, he added all the learning of the Egyptians. Born at the fountain head of Hterature, he drank copious draughts of the salutary stream. Before him the celebrated lawgivers of antiquity, although much later than this renowned legislator, shrink away, as the stars which shine through the night, fade before the first tints of the morning, and hide their diminished heads when the sun uncovers his radi- ance. In like manner all the writers of the Old 54 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. and New Testaments demand our respect as men of supereminent talents, and of solid wisdom. No one can read those psalms which are ascribed to the king of Israel, and imagine that David was a man of a co?nmon understanding. The fragments whicli have descended to us from Solomon, abundantly confirm the decision of the scriptures in naming him the wisest of men. He must be strangely des- titute of taste, who can read, unmoved, the majestic and sublime productions of Isaiah. We disdain to answer the bold, unfounded, ignorant assertions of the author of "The Age of Reason," who says, that, "a school boy should be punished for produc- ing a book so full of bombast and incongruity as the book caller! Isaiah." A man who can thus speak of a production so truly sublime, upon gener- al, we might say universal consent, has forfeited all claim to criticism ; and he must feel something like degradation who should sit down to answer so palpable a misrepresentation. We pass over the words of Jesus Christ, for surely it vvill be ad- mitted that " never man spake as this man." Luke rises before us as claiming to rank high in respect- ability. His writijigs vvill appear to any unpreju- diced mind impressed with the stamp of genius and of literature. In support of this position is it necessary to do more than appeal to the short and elegant preface to his gospel, after which, having once for all introduced himself, he disappears, and the historian is lost in the narrative? "Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth in order BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 55 a declaration of those things which are most sure- ly believed among us, even as they delivered them unto us, wliich from the beginning were eye wit- nesses, and ministers of the word: It seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write unto thee, in order, most excellent Theophilus, that thou mighest know the certainty of those things where- in thou hast been instructed." The apostle Paul is a name too great to be passed over in silence. His defence before Agrippa is a master-piece of genuine eloquence and feeling ; and he who can deny it, after reading the sentence with which it closes, appears to us most unreasonably prejudic- ed, and irreclaimable by the force of evidence. " Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost thou per- suadest me to be a Christian. And Paul said, I would to God, that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether such as I am — except these bonds I" His writings from first to last discover an extraordinary mind, and a fimd of intelligence, worthy a disciple who sat at the feet of Gamaliel. Those who were un- lettered men, have no less a claim upon our re- spectful attention. Who does not perceive a blaze of genius and of talent bursting through all the ob- scurity of their birth, and counteracting the orig- inal narrowness of their education ? They were aZi wise men ; and their wisdom carried with it the most decisive evidence that it was from above : it was " first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be 56 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. entreated, full of mercy and of good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy." We have pronounced but a small part of their eulogiurn in saying that they were wise men ; for talents are often found united to vice : but they were also eminently good men. They were men. We do not design to hold them up to your view as perfect characters: for such a representation would neither accord with truth, nor agree with their pretensions : but they were as perfect as hu- manity in its most exalted state upon earth seems capable of being. The charges against the char- acter of David have been heavy, but they have been as ably refuted. The light which he enjoy- ed was small, compared with the meridian glory which illumines our walk through life. And he must have an hard heart, and a most unreasonable conscience, who can urge David's failings against him, with much severity, after the contrition which he felt and expressed. Considered in connection with the other, and excellent parts of his charac- ter, these defects resemble the dark spots, which, to a philosophic and scrutinizing eye, appear on the sun's disk ; but which, to any unassisted organ of vision, are sv/allowed up in the blaze of his glory. In the writings and the lives of the apos- tles, what piety, what benevolence, what devotion, what love to God and to man, are visible ! What genuine zeal did they manifest ! A zeal distinguish- ed from mere enthusiasm, both in its object, and in its tendency ! No good man can read these writ- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 57 ings, such is their holy fervour, and such their ex- alted piety, without being made both wiser and bet- ter! Do you not discern in them hearts weaned from the present world, and fired with the glorious pros- |)ects of futurity? Do you not perceive in all things an integrity which made them ardent in the sup- port of their cause, and ready to suffer every ex- tremity for it? Yet that integrity, and that ardour, mingled with liumihty, temperance, mildness, good- ness, and trutli ? Do they not continually insist up- on these things as the genuine effects, the necessa- ry consequences, and the distinguishing character- istics, of their religion ? O let any unprejudiced person calmly sit down to read their lives, where all their weaknesses appear, and where none of their faults are extenuated, and he must conclude that they were good men ! We might, without departing much from our plan, draw up by way of contrast the lives and ac- tions of the principal adversaries of Revelation, and oppose them to those of its first asserters. We thmk that the confessions of Rousseau would look but ill when placed by the penitential tears of Pe- ter, or the contrite sighs of David. The licentious life, and the gloomy death of Voltaire, would be a striking contrast to the labours, the patience, the perils, and above all, the triumphant expiring mo- ments of Paul. We shall not, however, pursue this subject. These lives will be contrasted anoth- er day. But we will add— that before the patrons 6 58 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. of infidelity speak so bitterly of the failings of Da- vid, they should place by his life, the conduct of its most strenuous, and most distinguished advo- cates ; and the comparison would reflect but little honour, and little credit, upon themselves. THE SPIRIT IN WHICH THE BIBLE SHOULD BE READ. Consult it divested so far as possible of preju- dice, and with a sincere desire both to attain im- provement and to search out the truth. The in- vestigation which we recommend, lies equally be- tween that inactivity which slumbers forever over things acknowledged, and that impetuous temeri- ty which relying on its own powers disdains assis- tance, attempts a flight beyond the precincts of lawful subjects, and with licentious boldness pries into those " secret things which belong to God." Some float forever on the surface of admitted truths, fearful to rise above the level over which they have hovered from the first moment of consciousness. These resemble those birds which feed upon the insects dancing on the water, who never rise into the air, but always skim the surface of the lake, on the borders of which they received life. Oth- ers, on bold, adventurous wing, rise into the track- less regions of mystery, till they sink from the pride of their elevation, perplexed and exhausted. These, by aiming at too much, lose every thing. Because they have attempted unsuccessfully to in- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 59 vestigate that, which God has been pleased to put out of the reach of human comprehension, they will not believe any thing — they embrace a system of universal scepticism. So Noah's dove beheld on every side a boundless expansion of waters: and whether she rose or sunk, was equally bewil- dered, and found no rest for the sole of her foot. There is one point of difference, and that is, that she I'eturned to the ark ; but those w^hom we have described, too often are found to turn despisers, who wonder and perish. But the Christian is bold in investigating all that God has submitted to his researches, attempts every thing leaning on Al- mighty energy, and relies with implicit confidence upon the written word. So the eagle rises boldly into the air, keeping the sun in view, and builds her nest upon a rock. We would not have you, with the inactive and supine, always coast the shore : nor with the infi- del venture into the boundless ocean, without pilot, or compass, or ballast, or anchor: exposed equal- ly to the quicksands, to the rocks, to the whirlpool, and to the tempest : but we are desirous that, like the Christian, you should boldly face, and patiently endure the storm, with the Bible as your compass, Hope as your anchor, God as your pilot, and Heav- en as your country. 60 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. MAN A DEPENDENT CREATURE. Man is a needy, dependent creature^ from his birth to his death. His first cry is the voice of want and helplessness ; his last tear flows from the same source ; and in no one intermediate period of his life, can he be pronounced independent. His eye, the moment it is opened, is turned upon another for assistance. His limbs must be sheltered from the cold : his nutriment provided, and his wants supplied by the care and exertions of others : or he would perish in the hour of his birth. A few months expand his limbs ; and then a new train of wants succeeds. He must be watched with in- cessant vigilance, and guarded with unceasing care and anxiety, against a thousand diseases which wait to precipitate him to a premature grave. The quivering flame of an existence scarce- ly communicated, is exposed to sudden and furi- ous blasts, and it requires all a parent's skill to in- terpose a screen which may prevent its extinction ; and, alas! after all, such interpositions as human skill and tenderness can supply, are often ineffect- ual, and the prevailing blast extinguishes the sick- ly fire. The child begins to think, and a new field of exer- tion is opened to the mother. He needs direction, and is dependent upon her wisdom and affection for his earliest sources of information. She watch- es and facilitates the dawn of reason. She teach- es her child for what end he came into the world : BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 61 and in language adapted to his capacity, exhibits to the inquiring mind, and pours into the listening ear, his high and immortal destination. Oh, then with what anxiety she watches the speaking coun- tenance ! With what skill she directsthe passions! With what assiduity she strives to eradicate, or at least to bring into subjection his visible propensity to evil, and the impulses of a depraved nature ! Who among us cannot look back to this early pe- riod, and remember a mother's short, impressive conversation — her entreaties — her caresses — her restrictions — and her tears ? The boy advances in wisdom, and in stature, and in strength : but he is still dependent. And now he must pass into other hands. There are many things which it is necessary for him to know, and to learn, in order to his passage through life with respectability, which it is not a mother's prov- ince to teach him. Besides, it is needful that he should sojourn for a season with strangers, to pre- pare him for the approach of that time, when he must quit the paternal roof forever, and force his way through the wide world ! Grown up at length to manhood, he is still de- pendent. He lives by conferring and receiving mutual offices of kindness. It is not good for him to be alone. He links his fortunes and his inter- ests, his hopes and his fears, his joys and his sor- rows, with those of another. His duties and his responsibilities, multiply upon him. The circle is widened. He finds others dependent upon him, 62 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. while he is not himself independent. And all his difficulties and sufferings are lightened by being di- vided. Behold him stretched upon the bed of death hav- ing reached the extremity of this transient exis- tence, still a poor, dependent, needy creature ! To that heart he looks for sympathy : that bosom must support his languishing head: that hand must ad- just the pillow, and administer the cordial, and wipe away the dew of death, and close the extin- guished eye. Into the bosom of his companion tlirough life, or of his child, or of his friend, he breathes the last sigh ! HUMAN POWER IS LIMITED. The productions of human skill are grand ; and we pronounce the " solemn temple" magnificent when contrasted with surrounding and inferior buildings : but when set in comparison with the temple of the sky, it is magnificent no longer — it shrinks into nothing. I see a picture of the even- ing: 1 admire the painter's art in so judiciously blending his light and his shade : a soft and sober tint overspreads the whole piece, and I pronounce it beautiful ; — but when I compare it with the sun- set of nature, when I see the west inflamed with ethereal fire, blushing with ten thousand vivid and various splendours, while the distant mist slowly creeps along the line of the horizon, and forms a contrast to the brilliancy above it, the cf- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 63 fort of art is swallowed up in the sublimity ot na- ture—and it is beautiful no longer. I admire the genius and the understanding of the philosopher ; I reverence the superior intelligence of a Solomon ; I look up humbled to a Newton, exploring the im- mensity of yonder firmament, reducing the appar- ent confusion of its orbs to order, laying the plane- tary system under laws, tracing their orbits, and scrutinizing their nature— and I pronounce these wise men : but I raise my eyes — and behold an higher order of creatures around the throne of God, before whom even Newton is a child ; and presum- ing into "the heavens of heavens," I am lost in HIM, who charges even these superior beings « with folly." The powers of the human mind are said to be large and capacious : they are so when compared with those of every other terrestrial being in the creation of God. Man walks abroad the monarch of this world. Of all the diversified tribes which the hand of Deity formed, into man alone was "breathed the breath of life, and he became a liv- ing soul." The animal soon reaches his narrow standard, and never passes it. The powers of man are in a constant state of progression ; and proba- bly in the world of spirits they will be found to be illimitable. But whatever they may be in their nature, they are at present contracted in their op- erations. To what do they amount when called into action ? To speak a few languages : to deci- pher a few more in a various character : to ascer- 64 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. tain here and there a cause h}' tracing it upwards from its effects: to number seven planets revolv- ing round the sun : to send imagination into infi- nite space in search of other systems, till she is be- wildered and tired in her progress : to float on the bosom of the air suspended from a globe of silk ; or to sail over the surface of the ocean in a vessel of his own construction : to ascend the hoary sum- mit of the loftiest mountain, or to penetrate a fath- om or two the surface of the earth : these are the boundaries of human effort. And in searching out the little he is capable of learning, what difficulties he must meet ! what embarrassments he must surmount! what labours he must undergo ! what time he must expend ! And after all, how little has he gained ! how much remains unexplored ! how uncertain, and probably how erroneous, are his best grounded conclusions! And if we elevate our thoughts to those spirits, whose powers in our lim- ited apprehension are unbounded, we shall find upon inquiry that they also are limited creatures. There are subjects present to the Divine, Mind which the angels do not know: mysteries, which the capacity of Gabriel cannot fathom, and which the intelHgence of a seraph cannot unravel. How much less " man who is a worm, and the son of man who is but a worm ?" BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 65 MIKACIiES. EXERTION NECESSARY TO ATTAINMENT. To attain any object of importance, we must be satisfied to take many weary intermediate steps. To reach any point of eminence, confessedly re- quires patient industry, and persevering labour. He that will be a scholar, must begin with the ea- siest principles of language, and gradually ascend to the summit of literature. He that will be a philosopher, must commence with the simple ele- ments of science, and by painful researches ex- plore the worlds of nature and of reason. By many privations, and in the face of many difficulties, the hero advances from " conquering to conquer," till empire after empire is subjugated, and from his hand nations receive their respective destinies. But what, if the scholar had sat down contented with the elements of knowledge ? what, if the philoso- pher had never passed over first principles ? what if the hero had been impeded by the first river, or halted at the foot of the first mountain, that cross- ed his course ? or had turned his back and fled at the sound of the first trumpet calling him to battle.^ or had abandoned the project which his daring mind conceived, upon the first disappointment of his hopes? Where had been the pride of literature, the distinctions of science, and the glory of victo- ry? We should have justly added scorn and re- proach to the mortification of failure and defeat— 66 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. and have said — He who will tread the paths of literature and of philosoph}'^, must learn patiently tx> labour, and perseveringly to advance ; and he who claims the warrior's wreath of fame, must as a good soldier, endure hardness, as a skilful leader, meet and bear up against calamity, and as a vet- eran, sustain with unbending fortitude, and with a mind undismayed, the shock of battle, and even the disasters of defeat. On what principle is it, that these reasonings, so universally admitted, and which are deemed, on every other point, so self-evident, should be con- sidered in most cases, doubtful, and in some, should be absolutely denied in reference to religion ? In securing a worldly interest all the powers of the mind combine with the exertions of the body ; and no man expects either distinction or affluence, without toil, and diligence, and decision, and per- severance. The slothful, the inconstant, the pre- sumptuous, if they fail of their object, meet deris- ion instead of pity. We say of the first, " It is the hand of the diligent that maketh rich ;" of the sec- ond, " Unstable as water, he could not excel ;" of the last, he should have " sat down" to " count the cost" before he began to " build." It is to religion alone that we refuse to apply these acknowledged principles, as a standard of character, or as a di- rectory for our conduct. In religion alone a man expects to be master of the mysteries of redemp- tion, and of providence, while he is professedly but disciple ; in religion alone he looks to be crown- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 67 ed as a conqueror, before he was well girded on his armour as a soldier. It is common in worldly affairs to reproach a man, even for calamities which are unavoidable ; in religion to throw that blame upon the interest, which is indeed due to ourselves. So oppositely do men judge respecting points, which however distinct in their nature, are allied as to the measures by which they are to be secured, and the duties which are respectively in- volved in them. To sum up, in one word, these observations, God has, in religion, as in every oth- er case, connected the means with the end ; nor can the first be separated from the last, without the whole being lost. He also expects from us, not only the diligence and perseverance necessary to tlie security of any worldly interest ; but a dili- gence and perseverance commensurate with the greatness and superiority of the object which we propose to ourselves — and this ii a reasonable ex- pectation. MAN'S CONSCIOUSNESS OF IMMORTALITY. Man has a spirit within him conscious of immor- tality, and always instituting inquiries after its high destination. In creation he has no counter- part ; in the universe he can find no creature so glorious as himself; so exalted in the scale of be- ing ; so elevated in the sphere of natural life; so like the invisible Creator. He feels his dignity ev- ery step which he takes ; and contemplates the 68 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. starry heavens as yielding in splendour, in value, in importance, to the inestimable gem lodged in his bosom. In certain qualities, many things have tlie preeminence, but, as a whole, he is " more ex- cellent than they." He yields to the animal crea- tion, in strength and swiftness ; to the flower of the field, in beauty and variety : to the sun and stars, in lustre, and in present duration ; but these are all his inferiors. The animal returns to the dust to perish, buries his powers and existence in the earth, and ceases to be. The flower is formed for a season, withers in its season, and partici- pates not the reproduction of the next spring. The flower which rises from the same root is another flower, and in many respects differs from the pre- ceding one. The sun will spend his lustre, and the hand that feeds his light, shall be withdrawn from him. But man, as a spirit, never dies; and even his body shares the honour conferred upon him. The dishonours of death are transient ; the morn- ing of the resurrection will rise upon the grave ; the voice of God will rend the sepulchre : a tide of light and of life, will pour in upon its dreary confines; the body shall be raised and reani- mated ; and death shall have no more dominion over it. BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 60 LAUDABLE CURIOSITY. There is a disposition in the human mind, to investigate subjects on \vhich it is not possible to attain certainty : and which excite the strong and awful feeling of sublimity. When reason con* fesses her inability to pursue the train of reflection upon which she enters, imagination loves to soar beyond the point where reason closes her pinions, and to bewilder herself in a mazy flight throLigh the boundless regions of infinity. For this cause the mind delights to expatiate in the starry heav- ens ; the fancy to wander beyond the confines of creation ; and formed under her plastic hand, new worlds, new suns, new systems, " arise and shine." The same principle makes us love to dwell upon the mysteries of Providence ; to attempt to ex- plore hidden causes from obvious effects ; and to anticipate what shall be from that which has al- ready taken place. The same feefijig summons the secrets of futurity to pass before us : we love to speculate upon that which we mast die to learn ; and are never weary of sending imagination to create visions of that unseen state of being. Yet is futurity, under the sarxtions of revela- tion, not a subject of mere speculation, but of laudable inquiry, of solemn hope, of awful fear, of lively faith. Who can feel himself a traveller through this wide solitude, a stranger and pilgrim upon the earth, about to press into the hidden and unseen state of existence whither his forefathers 70 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. have entered, without inquiring into the partic- ulars of that country, whence " no traveller re- turns ?" He who is about to leave his native land forever, and to pass the remainder of his days in some foreign clime, is anxious to learn every par- ticular respecting his future residence. It is a consolation to him to reflect that the same sun which rises upon his country will visit him when he is banished from her shores. But we must ex- change worlds. The state to which we hasten has not the same sun, the same stars, the same light, the same nature. All is changed ; all is new. Is it idle curiosity that prompts the anxious, eager inquiry after its features, before we become its inhabitants ? No — it is a reasonable investigation. Let us not lightly cast from us a volume from whose pages alone we draw any certain informa- tion as to this awful, pleasing state of being. We may not be able to demonstrate all its positions, but the heart refuses to resign its hope. We ex- ult in the prospects which it discloses — and bow to its testimony, even where it seems to run coun- ter to general experience ; remembering that while it is impossible v/ith man, with "God all things are possible." THE APOSTLES OF CHRIST. The annals of time will not afford us such another list of characters. In vain we search the chronicles of empires — they are barren of every BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 71 thing so illustrious. In vain we penetrate the bosotn of courts — they present not any thing so dignified. In vain we walk through camps filled with heroes, and over fields which they have won — we meet with no minds so extraordinary — and with no achievements to be compared with the deeds of these champions of eternal truth — written on this neglected record. We encounter, indeed, men rising into distinction for science— becoming eminent for talents — moving high in the sphere of society — possessing power to disturb the repose of mankind — to destroy the liberties and the happi- ness of nations — to break up the boundaries of em- pires, and to remove their ancient land-marks : — we see them availing themselves of this power to the utmost — but covered with all the glory reflect- ed from a thousand fields contested and obtained — they are eclipsed by the divine radiance of one of the least of these. The page of history may pro- duce a Nimrod, an Alexander, a Hannibal, a Caesar : the page of inspiration displays an Abraham, a Moses, a Samuel, a David. Plunder six thousand years of their treasures — lay in the balances all that has been found great and glorious and god- like in the human character, from the commence- ment of time to this hour — and one witness of the miracles — Jesus their author — outweighs the whole. The greatness of the Apostles is founded upon their worth. Their magnificence is not built up- on the ruins of desolated humanity. Their laurels 72 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. were not raised in the field of blood, nor nourish- ed by the widow's tears. They were not celebra- ted for their contempt of the common feelings of nature, but for the perfection to which they culti- vated them. Their course was not marked like that of the hurricane, by the vestiges of destruc- tion : but distinguished like the track which the shower of the spring pursues, by the blessings dis- tributed on every side as it passes. The face of nature was not withered in their presence, but brightened by the sun beam of their eye. Peace fled not their approach, but lived in their smile, and waited on their footsteps. It was piety which ren- dered them illustrious, and religion which exalted them above the sphere of humanity. Neither was their dignity obtrusive. They did not court renown, nor sacrifice principle to ap- plause. They did not ask the votes of mankind by stooping to their prejudices : nor buy their fa- vour by the brilliancy of their exploits. They sought a quiet, and often trod a humble walk through life. They shone, so to speak, in defiance of themselves, in the eyes of admiring angels, stars of the first magnitude in the constellation of reli- gion, but unseen, or unheeded, by those who gaz- ed only on the hemisphere of time. They were lent to the last but for a season — and are set in this world. They shine in the first with additional splendour, and shall continue so to do, in the fir- mament of heaven, upon which they have long since lisen, — forever! BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 73 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT. We all receive the system of Copernicus in as- tronomy, in preference to that of Ptolemy, by which the ancients were determined in their ob- servations : because, upon such evidences as the nature of the subject will allow, and by a compar- ison of the appearances and the motions of the heavenly bodies with the laws which the common- ly received system involves in it, we feel assured that it agrees with matter of fact. But suppose the Corpernican system had never been discovered, and the Ptolemaic had never been exploded, no serious consequences could liave arisen from this : we should indeed have been unable so fully to ac- count for certain ap[)earances, but still the sun would have shown upon us, and the seasons would have revisited us in their order, whether we could accurately and philosophically liave accounted for these things or not: whether we supposed the sun to be the centre of the system as now, or continu- ed to believe with our fathers, tliat with inconceiv- able rapidity he whirled his dazzling orb round the comparatively little sphere inhabited by man. It is far otherwise in morals. A mistake here is of incalculable mischief, as it produces the most fatal consequences in this world, and is irreparable in another. Not merely the joys and the sorrows of the individual will depend continually upon his moral principles; but the whole cast and colour of 74 BEAUTIES OF COLLTER society, in its various and extended combinations, will be taken from the religious system under wliich it is moulded, and to which it appeals, at once as the test of its character, and as the direc- tory of its conduct. Those who affect to think that it is of small importance to what religious sys- tem a man gives his assent, and in what way he worships God, so that he worship him at all — that all incense is alike before the Deity, whether i^re- sented '" By saint, by savage, or by sage ;" and to whomsoever presented '' Jehovah, Jove, or Lord :" forget that human actions are determined by mo- tives; and that our very motives are themselves controlled by our religions convictions : in short, that where religion is any tiling more than profes- sion, where it is principle at all, it is a principle all- powerful, under all circumstances influential, and that it acts with a force alike inconceivable, and uncontrollable. BENEVOLENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. The character of the w^hole Christian system is a character of benevolence. In the life of its au- thor, in the labours of his apostles, in the nature of his precepts, in the spirit of his religion — there is but one principle running through the whole — BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 75 benevolence. It is one of the most delightful rep- resentations of the Divine character, and it is pe- culiar to revealed religion, that God is disposed to comfort and to encourage those whom man des- pises and abandons. In the refined speculations of philosophy, magnificent attributes encircled the God of Nature, where reason could be prevailed upon to purify itself in some degree from the gross- nessof a corrupt imagination, yet in those rare in- stances, the perfections conceived were interwov- en with terrors that chastened love : but wiien the gospel declared him as he really is, he was manifested clothed in tenderness that corrects and subdues fear. The God of man's conception was attracted by the external circumstances of pomp and talent : he was partial in his regards, both of persons and of places ; he was the God of the hero, of the noble, of the philosopher — the God of nature and of revelation sends his rain alike "upon the evil and upon the good — causes his sun to shine upon the just, and upon the unjust" — distributes with true paternal feeling and affection equal smiles upon every country, and people, and rank, — upon the poor and the rich — upon the learned and the illiterate — upon the European and the African — and he " is no respecter of persons." In exam- ining the testimony of this volume, we see through- out, (and experience confirms the fact asserted in the Bible,) that if a preference is shown at all, it is favourable to those who are of little value in human estimation. If there be one ray brighter than 76 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. another from the same sun, it falls upon the cot- tage rather than upon the palace. Thus a coun- terbalance to affliction is afforded the wounded mind. He who " Rides on a cloud disdainful by A sultan or a czar, Laughs at the worms that rise so high, Or frowns them from afar;" sees some of the children of disease and poverty suffering his will, who could not by active service perform it, and looks approbation that finds its way to their heart. He calls the friendless being, from whom the world avert their eyes with disgust or with scorn — his friend, his brother, his child. "Thus saith the High and Lofty One whoinhabit- eth eternity ; I dwell in the high and holy place — with him also who is of a broken spirit, and who trembleth at my word." Such are the declarations of revelation, and they are sanctioned byProvidence. Were it not going too far from the subject, several reasons might be assigned for the advantage of the poor over the rich. The great often enjoy less of the divine notice than the lowly, because it is the tendency of their situation to allure their de- sires from that direction : "they will not come unto him that they might have life" — he also abases the proud, while he elevates the humble, that "no flesh should glory in his presence" — he measures his distributions according to the necessities of every man: and if he particularly directs his attention BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 77 his kindness, and his care to the poor, it is because they need it more. But waving this, as it is not our immediate object to vindicate " eternal provi- dence, and justify the ways of God to man," it is evident not merely that a benevolent attention is paid to every class of human life — most to those who need it most — but that the leading, the pecu- liar, the constant feature of Christianity, is benevo- lence. MIRACLES OF CHRIST They had all a tendency to alleviate human af- fliction, and to diminish those calamities which imbitter or shorten life. Hunger devours the man, and is one of the most frightful evils attendant upon poverty. But he who refused to work a mir- acle to feed himself, when he saw that the multi- tude had nothing to eat, and that they fainted, had compassion on them, and supplied them. He who yearly multiplies the grain, by an act of the same power multiplied five loaves and two fishes to satisfy five thousand. Worse than even hunger is it to have disease in the frame. And how mul- tiform are the miseries of human life! Yonder stands one, waiting for a hand to guide him. The eye is extinguished ; and while day smiles on the face of nature, night gathers forever round his head. There is another, whose ear never drank in a stream of melody — the organ is closed against strains which steal through that avenue into the 78 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. heart of his neighbour — he "never heard the sweet music of speech" — nor perceives the tones of his own unformed, untuned, unmodulated voice. Here is a third, who appears before me, without the power of utterance — the string of the tongue was never loosed, and he never spake : the organs of speech are deranged, or were never perfectly formed — he hears tones which vibrate on liis heart — but he cannot impart through the same medium the same pleasurable sensation. These could not escape the compassionate eye of Jesus. He gave sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, speech to the dumb, limbs to the maimed, health to the sick, strength to decrepitude. But yonder is the cham- ber of death. Darker is the cloud that broods there. Where the tongue was silent the eye was eloquent : when the palsied limb refused to move — the ear heard and discriminated sounds which melt the passions, and stir the spirit within us : it was sad to tend the couch of sickness, — but still we seemed to have some hold upon the sufferer, and he to have some interest in life. But that is the bed of mortality, and the young, the beautiful, the only hope of her family is stretched there — and there is Jesus also — rousing her from death as from a gentle slumber, and restoring her to the arms of her parents. There is yet one other class of suffering worse than death. It glares in the eye, it raves in the voice, it struggles in the limbs of that man, whose throne of reason, imagination has usurped, and over the whole empire of his BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 7^ mind, madness reigns in all its accummulated hor- rors. Visions — horrible visions — of unreal and in- conceivable objects float before his disordered senses while he hears not, he distinguishes not, he regards not, the voice of parent, or of wife, or of child, or of friend. The spirit sits surrounded by the ruins of nature ; terrified amidst shattered, and useless, or perverted organs ; and covered with the mid- night of despair. Oh, let the compassionate eye of the Saviour fix upon this object! — and it does — he meets him coming from among the tombs — he speaks the word — he calms the tempest — behold " the man sitting at his feet, clothed, and in his right mind." He gave "reason and understanding to the distracted ; and release from the power of Satan, to those who were possessed by him." CHARACTER OF MOSES: It is impossible to contemplate the character of Moses, in any point of view, without being struck with its singular greatness. We are surprised to see tlie little, deserted child, who floated in a bul- rush ark, the sport of winds and waves, starting up a lawgiver, a hero, a general, a monarch ; and evincing in every sphere of operation, in every pe- riod of life, in every rank of society, an evident superiority, not merely over his contemporaries, but also over his predecessors, and the generations which have followed him. But of all his distinc- tions, that which. the apostle seized is the most 80 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. conspicuous : of all his achievements it is the most noble ; of all his conquests it is the most brilliant. It was, at one and the same time, a victory over the world, a victory over sin, and a victory over himself. "By faith, Moses, when he was come to years refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter ; esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt. By faith he forsook Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king: for he endured as seeing Him who is in- visible." What did he relinquish? Honour, reputation, distinction, a crown ? The objects which dazzle the eyes, which captivate the affections, which sub- due the heart, which inflame the desires of others, he voluntarily resigned. He gave up, of his own accord, from a noble contempt of its worthlessness, that, for which the hero dyes his hands in blood, hardens his heart against the tears of humanity and the pleadings of nature, violates the rights of nations, destroys the liberties of mankind, and for the attainment of which Europe is now desolated, and thousands are laid asleep in the dust, from time to time — the dust which was first impurpled with their vital fluid. Moses aimed at a nobler conquest, and won a greater field than that of Austerlitz or Calabria, when he subdued ambition, renounced the court of Pharaoh, and relinquished his claim on Egypt's well-watered kingdom ! What did he embrace ? A life of danger ; a sphere of humiliation ; a track of ignominy. He BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 81 did not withdraw to spend his days in ease, and in elegant retirement. He neither shrunk from the painftd duties of hfe, nor expected exemption from its troubles. On the contrary, he walked along its most thorny path. He chose a portion which^ne- cessarily involved in it affliction. And he did it upon the conviction of his judgment, and the de- cisions of his heart. Had he been expressly called to it, we might have wondered less: but it was his choice ; and he obeyed in the voice of God, the impulse of his own great mind. O how I envy him his feelings ! How sweet were the hours of his retirement, of his reflections, of his repose! He did not meet, like Brutus, an apparition in his tent, raised by the accusations of conscience, to reproach him with a deed, which he had flattered himself would cover him with im- mortal glory. He did not, in casting the die, and taking his final resolution, decree, like Ctesar, the ruin of his country's liberties. He did not, like Al- exander, first subdue the world, and then weep that he had not anotiier world to conquer. These all had something to tarnish their glory s(»me- thing to disturb their repose : and they felt how vain, and how unsatisfactory is human greatness. T%€^often repented of f/ieiV choice: but he, never ! And this greatness is attainable! All have not a crown to resign : but every man has passions to conquer. All cannot reach the summit of a hero's fame: but all may choose the lot of Moses. They 82 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. may be destitute of his talents, of his hterature, of his rank ; but they may adopt his decision ; and in this he was most eminent, and most glorious- Here is a guiltless field, for the noblest ambition ! And here is a lesson for the proudest heart I Be- hold the eulogy of the greatest man that ever lived! And in v^^hat is it founded? Not on his dis- tinction as a legislator — his skill as a general — his elevation as a monarch — his attainments as a scholar — nor even his superiority as a prophet — these are all waved — Upon this alone his character rests — he chose " rather to suffer afi^iction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." "Go, and do likewise." CONSISTENCY OF THE SACRED SCRIPTURES. Truth is always consistent with itself: false- hood is frequently detected merely from its want ofcongruity. He that contents himself with sim- ply detailing facts as they arise, need fear no scru- tiny ; every examination of his narrative will only serve to render more evident its consistency. He that has a tale to palm upon mankind, to which truth refuses to set her seal, has reason to shrink from investigation. In vain it affects the air of sincerity — in vain it borrows the ornament of eloquence — in vain it is guarded with the vigi- lance of art — it wants the harmony and agreement absolutely essential to truth, and stands at last de- tected and exposed. If these observations are just BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 83 on general subjects, the}^ will apply with peculiar force to the facts of revelation, and appear no less important as a tost of its doctrines. A system that does not harmonize with itself cannot be true — be- cause truth is necessarily consistent. A system that does indeed correspond in all its several parts, has something more than presumptive evidence to its veracity ; for the same reason it bears in its face the grand and characteristic features of truth. To no volume can this evidence be so satisfactori- ly applied as to the Bible ; both as a narrative of facts, and as a system of doctrines ; nor less to the general scheme of salvation revealed in it, " and most surely believed" among us. There are "ma- ny things" contained therein " hard to be under- stood," but there is nothing contradictory. There may be some things which ice know not how to reconcile : but its invariable consistency, in every case to which evidence can be applied, ought in justice to induce us to conclude, that the defect is neither in the system, nor in its testimony, but that it lies partly in the inferiority of our powers of judg- ing, and partly in the very contracted and partial views which we necessarily have of its plans and subjects. In the mean while the genuine exercise of reason appears to be, to allow Revelation, what must be allowed to all science, the grant of its own principles : and then to judge of its veracity, or the contrary, by the agreement or disagreement of its parts with each other; and the consequent harmony or discrepancy of the whole. 84 BEAUTIES OF COLLY ER. At the same time, when we are comparing the several parts of this great scheme together, in or- der to determine how far their union gives stabili- ty to the whole, we ought never to forget that we see hut parts. All criticism npon an unfinished building, by persons who are acquainted with the design of the architect only by so much of it as the work of his hand has rendered apparent, must be deemed defective and premature. All that can be decided is the agreement or disagreement of those parts, which are already visible, with each other ; and even in this hasty conclusion there is danger of rashness and injustice ; since that which strikes the eye as out of proportion, perhaps wants only some corresponding part of the plan, not yet de- veloped, to restore and to impress upon our senses the unity of the whole. So we ought to regard the designs of Providence. It is a magnificent, but as yet an unfinished plan. Every day demon- strates something of its beauty and consistence ; but, alas I a very few strokes are added during our continuance here — so soon do we die out of the world ! Such also is our situation in respect of the great and benevolent scheme of human redemp- tion. We are struck and amazed at the portion of it which we are able to comprehend ; but the half has not been told us ; and we are unable to grasp that which is already revealed. Neither is the de- sign as yet completed. All that is submitted to us, we see " as through a glass darkly," and how much is yet behind! There are "heights and BEAUTIES OF COLLY ER. 85 depths, breadths and lengths" which surpass our knowledge, to be unfolded in a future world. We are justified in advancing the same plea relative to the facts of Revelation. Time has destroyed some of their local evidences. The historical rec- ords of the Bible are transmitted to us with a con- ciseness which was perfectly intelligible to contem- poraries, but which overshadows them with a partial obscurity to us, who stand so remote from the scene of action, and from the ages in which they transr)ifed. In the mean while, they exhibit the simple, firm, and eternalcharacters of truth. It becomes those who examine pages which pro- fess to be inspired, to do it with caution, with dili- gence, and with reverence. Then, when the claims of the Bible are disproved, let it be treated with levity: but until its pretensions are demon- strated to be false, until its long contested and un- shaken evidences are destroyed, until the profess- ed spirit of truth pervading it is proved to be a delusion and a fable, ridicule is not the weapon which candour would raise against such a cause, nor is mockery and insult consistent with common decency, when advanced against a system which has commanded the veneration of ages. If mod- ern sceptics were capable of feeling shame, they v/ould blush at the levity with which they treat the most solemn of all subjects; and at the disgusting flippancy with which they assail a cause, dignified in itself, gracious in its effects, and at whose foot the greatest of men, in every period of time, in ev- 86 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. ery department of literature, and in every country, have been content to lay their most distinguished honours. OBSCURITY NO ARGUMENT AGAINST REVELATION. It is singular that men should seize a circum- stance, as an argument against Revelation, which constitutes an irresistible evidence in its favour, whether we consider it as a necessary result of the nature of things, or as a striking analogy with the works of creation, and the dispensations of Providence. The circumstance to which we al- lude is that obscurity which sometimes rests upon its pages, not arising from inaccuracy of expres- sion, but from the very character of the subjects produced. It is not that the doctrine escaping our researches is uncertainly stated as a fact, but that tJie modes of its existence are altogether undefin- ed. It is not that the testimony to the fact, what- ever it be, is incomplete as evidence ; but that it is aji evidence peculiar to the subject, resting simply upon the authority of inspiration, the doctrine it- self being exclusively a doctrine of revelation ; and consequently possessing, in liuman estintation, a force and weight of authority corresponding with the admission of the claims of the Bible, on the part of the individual. It is absurd to object against the scriptures that they contain many things incomprehensible to U3, BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 87 when it cannot be denied that the ]>Ians and tlje operations of an infinite mind arc necessarily be- yond the grasp of one that is finite. Whatever human wisdom lias been able of itself to discover, or to establish, has been intelligible to many, if not to all men ; because finite powers are able to apprehend things that are finite. In limited facul- ties there may be still unbounded variety. All men have not equal minds. A Newton was capable of comprehending subjects utterly unintelligible to men of inferior capacities; and it is probable that angels are able to understand much more of the operations of God, both in nature, in providence, and in redemption, than the most exalted and the wisest of human beings. But no man ever wrote upon so abstruse a subject, if he did himself appre- hend it, but another man was found capable of un- derstanding and appreciating his reasoning. And no man ever invented a system, but another was found able, not merely to grasp it, but to improve upon it. But in reference to the plans of God, there is a certain point to which we can ascend, and no man has been able to go beyond it. Whatever is here explained, is intelligible to the " wayfaring man;" and whatever is left unrevealed, is inscru- table tu the philosopher. The obscurity of reve- lation arises from the grandeur of its subjects, from the sublimity of its system : not from any de- ficiency of evidence to its facts, nor from anything indefinite in its language. It is the same difliculty pressing upon the inquirer after its subjects, which 88 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. the astronomer feels in tracing the oj)erations of the same God in nature. Notwithstancling all the efibrts of science, it is still disputed whether the orb which forms the centre of our system, be a body of fire, or an habitable world. No wonder that the comet's eccentric orbit should be undefin- ed ; and that the visits of these beautiful strangers should fill us with admiration, without adding much to the stores of our knowledge, relative to the laws by which they are governed, and the pur- poses for which they are sent into our system. All that we learn certainly is, that thei'eisasun — that we depend upon him for light and heat — that we are supplied according to our necessities — and that " the hand which made Isim is divine." So of the doctrines of revelation — they are clearly stated as facts — the modes of their existence are conceal- ed — and for this plain reason — they could not be made known to us, unless it were possible for a finite mind to grasp infinity- That the volume pro- fessedly inspired should, in its subjects, transcend our knowledge, is an evidence in favour of its claims ; since that which originated with man miglit have been easily apprehended ; but that which emanates from God, must, for the reasons just assigned, be necessarily unsearchable. BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 89 ADVERSITY A TEST OF CHARACTER. WnEX iniquity abounds the love of many waxes cold. Seasons of trial distinguish the faithful from the false. The tempests which have, at different periods, shaken the church of God, have always eventually promoted its stability. Sufferings may diminish the number of nominal christians ; but it unites more closely the little band of real disciples. It severs the precious from the vile. It discrimi- nates characters. It exposes principleg, and brings to light hidden motives. It melts down animosities among the brethren, and cements those who ought to "dwell together in unity." While Jesus was with his disci[>les, and they foresaw not impending evil, we often find them alienated, and contending for pre-eminence ; but v.hen their Master was " taken from their head," when Israel's hopes lay buried, as they imagined, in that new tomb, hewn out of a rock, on the side of Calvary, we see them assembled in one room ; a sense of danger and of desertion drew brother to brother, and friend to friend ; they felt that they had a common interest ; and they resolved to live and die together. " Sweet are the uses of adversity !" While affliction ce- ments the church of Christ, it imparts lustre to the character of the individual. Trial gives a polish to human nature. It controls the passions ; it softens the heart; it subdues pride; it generates fiympathy. He^ who has frequented the school of adversity, has been taught this important lesson — 90 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. to "put on bowels of compassion, and tender mercies." He who cannot feel for another's woe, never himself endured, or never profited by the stroke of calamity. Nor is sorrow, sanctified sor- row, less beneficial to personal religion. It quick- ens devotion, it produces resignation, it awakens caution, it stimulates serious self-examination. As the light of prosperity expires, every christian grace shines more brightly ; and when the day de- parts, what brilliant stars kindle their immortal ra- diance in this darkened hemisphere. The cause of general religion is aided by afi^iction. Does it disperse the fickle multitude.^ It renders more conspicuous the faithful few. A city set upon a hill which cannot be hid is the little society that dares to adhere to the Redeemer in the evil day, and amidst the falling oflTof professors. An indi- vidual who stands fast in a time of apostasy, is in himself a tower of strength to the cause : he attracts more observers even by his singularity ; and he commands their admiration, in defiance of them- selves. THE FIRST TRIUMPHS OF DEATH. We have seen Death in so many shapes, have felt his witness within us by so many infallible proofs of sickness and decay, that if he is a fearful, lie is not a novel enemy. We have stood around the dying beds of our dearest connections: we have uncovered the sepulchre to deposit in its dark BEAUTIES OF COLLY EK. 91 chambers oU»- own flesh ; we have died again and again in our family — death has assailed us in a thousand forms — has wrung tears from our eyes, and sorrow from our hearts, at every period of our lives, and every stage of our journey — and yet has he not lost his terrors I We still watch his approach with anxiety — we listen to the silent celerity of his footsteps with fear. When he robs us afresh, we feel the blow as poignantly as though we had never felt it before ; when he rushes to seize us, we receive him as though he were a stranger. What then must he have been to the first men ? They had not, like us, traced his horrible features : they had not, like us, watched his destructive pro- gress : they had not, like us, witnessed his frequent visits. If you take the trouble to calculate, you will find that notwithstanding so many names, and, as it appears, generations, preceded Enoch, there is no recorded death, excepting Abel and Adam : Buch was human longevity ! The world had no opportunity to watch the action of death in the first instance ; for it was violent, unnatural, and performed by a brother's hand, the murderer alone being present. I can easily conceive, therefore, with what anxiety they would watch the footsteps of time in the person of Adam, the venerable fath- er of the human race ; who, being the first in the transgression, was, perhaps, also the first who tasted of death in all its natural bitterne^s. O what an interest every sickness would excite ! What anxiety every pang would cause ! Every fresh lino 92 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. in his countenance would be marked. As he grew enfeebled by age, their attention would redouble: and when, at last, the long expected blow was struck, what a group of astonished, affrighted countenances were assembled! The last sigh — the last look — the last tear — the last word — the last breath — all left upon the heart an impression which time could not obliterate! THE EXAMPLE OF ANCIENT SAINTS. When the ancient saints pass before our eyes, clothed in the beauty of holiness, and encompassed with the transcendent glories of religion, we aro dazzled with their si)lendour, and are almost in- duced to conclude that their characters display something more than human. We venerate the piety which preserved Noah and his family in the universal desolation of the flood ; and which de- livered Lot from amidst the ruins of the cities of the plain. We admire the faith of Abraham, who, when he was called to forsake his country and his father's house, went forth, not knowing whither ho went; and when he was commanded to sacrifice his only son, laid him without murmuring upon the altar of God, relying with implicit confidence on the divine rectitude, and listening to the voice of duty, even when it opposed the pleadings of nature. We envy Elijah his fidelity, and David his piety: and in all these distinguished characters BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 93 we find something to excite respect, mingled with humility. But when we insjiect their lives more closely, we perceive their frailties, and discover that these all were men of "like passions with ourselves." Noali, in th.e ark, and in the vineyard ; Lot, in Sodom, and in the solitude of the moun- tain ; Ahraham, on Mount Moriah, and in Egypt ; David in the cave, and in the palace — a shepherd and a prince ; Elijah, "hold for the Lord of Hosts," in the city, and timidly, impatiently desiring to die in the wilderness; appear different beings. They fail also in their grand characteristics — Noah in his temperance ; Lot in Ids purity; Ahraham in his faith; David in his tenderness of conscience ; and Elijah in his courage. They required the re- freshment of religious privileges ; and availed themselves of the appointed means of grace to keep alive their duties, and to give stability to their character. The ordinances which were thus man- ifestly useful and necessary to them, must be deem- ed essential and indispensable to us. If they could not live without prayer, neither can we. If they felt the necessity of self-examination, should not we say, "Search us, O God, and know our hearts; try us, and know our thoughts ; and see if there he any wricked way in us, and lead us in the way everlasting!" If their graces languished, can we wonder that ours fade? If the cloud of afiliction dropped its tears upon them, shall we expect to pass along without finding its shadow stretched sometimes over our path ? If they could not live 94 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. without the friendly aid of religion ; nor dispense with the public institutions of worship, and the ex- ercises of private devotion; nor die without the divine presence ; these things are both profitable and needful to us. If their strength required to be constantly thus renewed, let us place no confi- dence in mere mortal energy: let us not turn our feet from the house of God : let us neither despise his ordinances, nor violate the sanctity of his day ; let us receive with humility and with gratitude all the means of religious instruction. MARRIAGE. Such an union, arises out of the necessity of human nature, and is essential to its happiness. It originated in the appointment of God — it re- ceived the sanction of his law — it has been hon- oured and exalted in the New Testament — and it is sealed alike by religion, nature, and reason. It is an institution which gives two parties a com- mon interest, and thus cements an union closer than any worldly friendship, while it builds it upon a basis not to be shaken or destroyed. The sor- rows of life are lightened by becoming divided ; and its pleasures are multiplied by participation. It gives an impulse to a combination of talents, of zeal, of exertion — and modifies and tempers the asperities of human life. It gives to duty the irre- sistible force of affection, and the present recom- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 95 pense of enjoyment. Where it is sanctified by the influence of religion, solitary devotion becomes social ; united prayers and praises ascend to tho throne of mercy; and they are mutual helpers of each other's faith and holiness. This institution received the sanction of the presence of Jesus, as a seal to its obligations. This fact points out tho only way in which we have a right to expect hap- piness and prosperity in the connection — to make God a party in the rite, and to invite Jesus as a guest, not merely in the nuptial rejoicings, but also in all the domestic arrangements, and through all the scenes of human life. It was reserved to the profligacy and immorality of these last days, to pour contempt upon an institution divinely ap- pointed, so repeatedly honoured under every re- ligious dispensation, and so highly distinguished. It is one of the eflTects of that scepticism, or rather let me call it infidelity, which strikes at all order, and aims to destroy the very existence of society, by trampling upon the laws of Cliristianity, and by renouncing its authority. The results of such principles have been too fatally developed, especial- ly of late, in the higher classes of society, by the infringement of the rights of this wise and holy in- stitution ; by a violation of its duties; by outrage upon its feelings; by an invasion of its sanctity, and by a wanton destruction of its domestic hap- piness. Our public journals are stained and pol- luted with narratives, but too frequent, of the dishonour endured on the one side, and the indig- 96 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. nity offered on the other, of the respective'parties, and the sweet tranquilhty of social order is abol- ished to make way for the indulgence of the most criminal passions. Families are divided and scat- tered ; divorces succeed debauchery ; children are early initiated into the mysteries of vicious refine- ment ; and the morals of a generation to come are already tainted and debilitated, if not totally ruin- ed. It arises from the diffusion of the pernicious principles of scepticism, and not from the pure code of revelation, which has imparted unfading glory to this institution. Out of modern philoso- phy, (as it has dared to call itself,) has arisen this hardness of the human heart, this contempt of social feeling, this irregularity and impurity of conduct. " Have ye not read, that he which made them at the beginning, made them male and female ; and said, 'for this cause shall a man leave father and motlier, and shall cleave unto his wife ; and they twain shall be one flesh ? Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What, there- fore, God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.'" RELATIVE DUTIES. Out of every relation of life, whether it be natu- ral or spiritual, correspondent duties arise. Every step that we take in life, they increase and multi- ply. He that extends his influence, enlarges his circle, and widens his sphere, augments his obli- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 97 gations in llie same proportion. Nature constitut- ed liitn a son, and ini!)o=ed u[)on him filial duties. Inclination moulded him into a friend ; and out of his affections sprang the obligations of friendship. lie becomes, in process of time, a husband, and a parent; his heart thrills with new emotions, his bosom burns with other fires: but these all imply new duties — all require fresh vigour, diligence, and activity. So of spiritual relations. Our existence links us to the Deity. He is om* Creator ; for it is he who " hath made »js, and not we ourselves." He is our preserver; in denance of ourselves we must be dependent, because we live upon his boun- ty ; " He gives us life, and breath, and all things." All this constitutes obligation, and, on our part, supposes duty ; whether it be acknowledged or denied, whether it be regarded or disregarded. But there are other and voluntary ties: voluntary, because although they were formed by the power and mercy of God, the will which was naturally averse from them, is so changed by divine grace, that it cordially, joyfully, eagerly adopts them, with all their consequences. He becomes our Parent, our Redeemer, our Sanctifier ; and we are his adopted children, as well as the workmanship of his hand, and the creatures of his power. This increase of relationship to God necessarily includes an increase of obligation. Out of the union which believers have to their Lord, arise both their privi- leges, their pleasures, and their duties. 9 98 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. Obligations thus constituted are indissoluble. This is true of both natural and spiritual ties. So long as the parent lives, filial duties can never cease. The son grows up to manhood, enters new connections, forms a circle for himself, becomes in his circumstances independent of the father and the mother; but neither God nor nature release him from the silken bonds of affection and of grat- itude. He feels that he has incurred a debt, in the years of his infancy and hel{)lessness, wiiich he can never discharge. Resj»ectiiig tliose connec- tions which he voluntarily forujs, the obligations are reciprocal, but they are no less permanent. Exactly the same characters of perpetuity distin- guish our spiritual relations; or rather, upon these last they are more deeply and indelibly inscribed. Man can never renounce his Creator. Many have attempted to do it — in vain: and the effort, the thought argues distraction. lie can never be in- dependent of the hand that feeds him, and of the power in whom "he lives, and moves, and has his being." Atheism can neither affect the existence of God, nor annihilate the obligations of man to him. It may ruin the interests of the creature, but it cannot shake the throne of the Creator; and he who renounces God, will feel how indissoluble are the ties by which he is bound to him, in the day when God rouses himself to vengeance, and renounces liim in return ; and when all the bonds of his present connection shall be exchanged for chains of wrath. BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 99 DIVINE PLANS IN HARMONY WITH DIVINE PERFECTIONS. Lv the operations of Deity all is order, beaut}', and consistency. In the works of creation element balances element: the preponderation of one is counteracted by the pressure of its opposite, and thus an equilibrium is maintained among the whole. Equally harmonious and consistent are the mysterious plans of providence. To us they are like chaos, " without form and void " — dark, profound, unfathomable. Does it follow that they are so in themselves.? To the eye of superstition the comet carries in its luminous train war, and famine, and pestilence, and whatever scourge can afflict guilty nations : while, perhaps, it is the mes- senger of [)eace to distant worlds, rolling far be- yond the extent of our vision, through the immen- sity of space. To the eye of ignorance the starry heavens present a mingled, confused display of trembling lights. To the eye of the philosopher, they wear an appearance far different. Yonder spark he discovers to be a sun, and conceives it the centre of another system. That cluster of glitter- ing specks is to him what the finger-post or the mile-stone is to the traveller; it is a mark of meas- urement between one quarter of the heavens and another. Those wandering lamps, he perceives, describe a regular orbit ; and he predicts, to an hour, their arrival at such and such a point of heaven — or their passage through a given con- 100 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. stellalion. Such are the plans of providence now to us, a majestic, but confused and boundless piece of machinery : and such shall they become in the world of light, when we shall see them all reduced to order. So in religion — dispensation answers dispensation — the anti-type is exactly de- lineated in the type — the shades of colouring melt into each other — and, from the present confused masses, the matcJiless skill of the divine Artist shall produce and perfect his own grand design. In the mean time, let us wait the issue, and in in- specting the progression of the work let us not de- cide as though it were already accomplished, nor pronounce our judgment, as though we were masters in the science, while we are only allowed to be spectators, or at most scholars. GRAND EPOCHS IN HUMAN LIFE. There are certain periods in every man's lifo, distinguished, above all others, for their impor- tance. The magnitude of the events suspended upon them, of the purposes which they bring to maturity, or of the advantages which they secure — impart to them dignity and value. Some of these periods are pleasing, and some are painful : they are hours of joy, or of sorrow : and the heart antic- ipates them with rapture, or expects them with dis- may. Affliction has its distinctions as well as felic- ity ; and in the catalogue preserved in a man's fam- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 101 ily, of memorable events, the day of his deatli finds a place as weH as the day of his birth. But life sel- dom flows a stream of even tenoiir: the expansion of its shallow wave is ruffled by the gale of pros- perity, or by the blast of adversity; and it rolls, with perpetual variation, along a channel exposed to every breath of heaven, till it is lost in eternity. The mother looks back upon the period when her first born came into the world, with inexpress- ible delight. She hails tlje return of the day, year by year, with growing pleasure. She sees him in- crease "in wisdom, and in stature, and in favour with God and man." She remembers no more her sorrow ; nay, it was absoibed in the T.ay when she smiled through her weakness upon his sleep- ing countenance, and first feebly pressed his cheek with her maternal lip. The young man is looking forward to the day when he shall attain full age, and be his own mas ter. How slowly weeks, and months, and yeara appear to creep along! He calculates not upon the train of ills that the world, which appears so enchanting at a distance, will open upon him. Is life to be new-modelled for him ? Are the plans of providence to be changed tliat he may walk along a velvet path through this wilderness? Will the flowers spring spontaneously beneath his steps wherever he places his foot ? Is the house of his pilgrimage to be always swept and garnished ? Yet he flatters himself that life is full of consola- tion, that its scenes are ever new, and ever pleas- 102 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. ing — and that the fiUiire contahis all which he wants at present. But there is an hour of more imj)ortance than these — an hour of greater magnitude than any- other which the hopes or the fears, the pleasures or the pains, the wisdom or the ignorance of man, distinguish in the swift revolutions, and the inces- sant fluctuations, of this transitory stale of exist- ence. It is the hour when the account with heaven must close — when the halance must be struck — when time shall finish with us — when the body shall fall into the dust, and the spirit shall appear naked before God. This is a day which man is, alas! too imwilling to anticipate. This deserves to be noted above all others; whether you consider the certainty of its approach, the solemnity of its features, or the magnitude of its consequences. MAN HAS NOTHING OF HIS OWN IN WHICH TO GLORY. Man has nothing of his own in which to glory. In his best estate he had not anything whereof to boast: but, since his apostasy, and in his present degraded condition, few properties of excellence remain ; and he can scarcely take any view of himself, which ought not to cover him with shame and confusion. Take a momentary survey of the situation of Adam, as he came from the hand of God. You BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 103 must regulate your conceptions on this point, by the intelhgence respecting it which tlje Scriptures have communicated: and by those deductions which may be fairly inferred from its concise, but important testimony. He was armed in the pano- ply of innocence. He reflected the radiance of divine glory. He enjoyed [jcrfect and undisturbed felicity. Youth, beauty, majesty, immortality, were all impressed upon him ; and he stood at the head of that creation which God himself pro- nounced "very good" — proudly pre-eminent. The Deity favoured him with his presence and converse. Angels were his companions. The harps of heaven were heard mingling with his morning and even- ing devotions; and its songs rolled along the tem- perate air of blissful Eden. The voice of God, niore charming than these, whispered among the trees of the garden ; and the communication be- tween earth and heaven was easy, was immedi- ate, was constant. And had this favoured crea- ture nothing in which to glory .^ Nothing ! Every thing commanded gratitude — nothing inspired boasting. He was exactly what God made him: and where there is no merit, glorying ought to be excluded. If this be true of man in his state of original rectitude, of what can he properly boast now that he is fallen and depraved ? His beauty is faded ; his primeval lustre is extinguished ; his ancient magnificence is departed; his former dignity is degraded ; and the image of God is defaced, and 104 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. nearly obliterated. Yet he is proud of those frag- raents of greatness which remain : the few, expir- ing sparks of his first splendour, light up within him a flame of vanity ; he loves still to boast; and we must examine the principles upon which he founds his supposed right to glory. In order to prove these principles false, it is only necessary to point out the subjects which swell this haughty creature with self-importance. He has no right to boast of his honours. These are generally derived : they may be bestowed, by partial favour; they may be worn to decorate vice and to cover infamy; they cannot reach beyond the grave. Death mocks at human majesty ; con- vinces the monarch that his hereditary honours are only lent him, and must pass into the hands of a successor, who shall resign them in his turn; and arrests the hero in his career of glory, while every tongue proclaims his victories. That is a poor boast which a moment may destroy. He has no right to boast of his riches. They were not procured by his own efforts alone. The blessing of God became the source of his wealth. Stay, proud man, and before you glory, learn this wholesome truth: "Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it ; except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain." Without his favour " it is in vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, and to eat the bread of sorrows." Let the wheat boast of its in- crease, when it lifts its light green head above the BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 105 soil. Let the flower boast of its skill, in the dis- position of those lovely tints with which it is adorned. But did not a secret hand quicken and expand the one? and a divine pencil ornament and arrange the other ? Shall the sun and the shower say, " we gave vegetation to the ])lant, and beauty to the flower?' Both of these were employed to produce the effect : yet how false, as well as vain, were this boast ! for while they were the instru- ments, God was the agent. Thus has he been in the accumulation of property. It is derived from the same source ; it is permitted by the same hand ; it is produced by the same power, as the herb and the flower: nor is the existence of the one, and the beauty of the other, more uncertain and transient than " riches, which make to themselves wings, and fly away, as eagles, towards heaven." He has no right to glory in the splendour of his external establishment ; or in the" beauty of his personal configuration. Each of these is a mere circumstance, dejiending upon other circumstances: a slender link of a fragile chain ; a momentary lustre, eclipsed every day, exposed to every blast of adversity, obscured by sudden clouds, and liable to by quenched altogether every instant. And what is it ? While it has the instability of the va- pour, it is outdone by the lily. It as an excellence which the worm possesses in greater perfection. While it sparkles, it is less dazzling than the but- terfly, when he expands his wings, displaying the 10 106 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. tints of the rainbow sprinkled over with gold : "yea, I say unto you, that even Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these." He has no right to glory in his talents. These may be distinguished, but they are limited ; and there are higher orders of being by whom he is surpassed. Are they self-derived ? or are they bestowed ? He enjoys them by permission : he received them as a free gift ; and he is responsible for the use, or the abuse of this precious boon. "For who maketh thee to differ from another? and what hast thou that thou didst not receive? now if thou didst receive it, why dost thou glory, as if thou hadst not received it ?" These also have mutability and decay inscribed upon them. Time diminishes, sickness enfeebles, accident may des- troy them. It requires years to produce their growth, and to ripen them into maturity. Assiduity of culture is necessary to give them impulse, en largement, and vigour. They are no less sensible of infirmity and contraction. How easily are they suspended and annihilated, as to their present use and employment, by him who bestowed them! The philosopher may become an idiot, exhibiting only the life of an animal, descending from the sphere of humanity, with all his great faculties, his laborious researches, and even his natural reason, locked up, never to be released, till death arrives to terminate the calamity, to remove the melancholy spectacle, and to emancipate the prisoner. BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 107 He has no right to glory in his acquirements How small a portion of knowledge lies within the grasp of his capacity! how little he ohtains of that which is suhniitted to him ! When the human mind is irradiated with intelligence, and illuminat- ed by science, it is still dark: the obscurity is dis- covered, but not removed ; and the last, the high- est lesson of wisdom, is to teach us our ignorance. Our acquirements are exposed tothesauie changes and to the same dangers, as our talents. Age will render the memory treacherous, and steal from the man the treasures which he hoarded there; a sin- gle fever can strip him of all ; and death levels the distinction between the scholar and his unlearned brother. He has no right to boast of his religion- If it be genuine, it is communicated by the Holy Spirit. It is not his own. It is God " who worketh in him to will and to do his own good pleasure." From him "all holy desires, all good counsels, and all just works do proceed." It is as much an act of divine power to renew the mind, as to create a world — it requires the same interposition to quicken the spirit, as to raise the dead. Such is the strength of the imagery under which the christian charac- ter, in its formation is described, that it follows, if they are appropriate figures, the production of it must be the act of God: nor less its preser- vation ; for it is supplied by the energy by which it was imparted. Thus, if it be genuine, we 108 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. owe the glory to God : and if it be not genu- ine, it is not worth a boast. These all, are the principal subjects in whicb men glory ; and these all, rightly considered, ought to exclude boasting. FiiRiLBIiISS. MONUMENTS OF HUMAN GRANDEUR PERISH. The monuments of human greatness yield in succession to the destroying influence of time. Whatever is magnificent, or beautiful, or excellent, possesses only a temporary influence, and com- mands only a transient admiration ; in the course of a few years, or at most a few ages, imagination is required to supply departed graces, and genius mourns over extinguished glory. The combina- tions of society have produced astonishing effects: to man in his collective strength nothing is impos- sible, and few things appear even diflicult ; he has dared every thing ; and he has achieved so much as amply to repay him for his labours. The extent of sovereignty which he grasped, when he stretch- ed his sceptre over numberless provinces, and planted the line of his dominion from sea to sea, demonstrated the unbounded character of his am- bition, and the incalculable variety of his resources. The stupendous productions of art, on which he BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 109 inscribed his victories, and which he intended as the pillars of hisfame, have combined and exhibited all that is sublime in conception, and all that is grace- ful in execution. Could he have attached durability to these, his triumph would have been complete — he would have bound time to his chariot-wheels > and rendered the monuments of his greatness coeval with the existence of the heavenly bodies. But that irresistible power has dissolved all the associations which he formed, and overthrown all the structures which he raised. He touched the seats of empire with his commanding sceptre, and the thrones of the earth crumbled into dust. Scarcely was the head of the monarch laid beneath the sod, before his dominion perished. Scarcely the active hand of the warrior stiffened in death, ere the provinces which he had won revolted, and another hero arose — to run the same career of danger and oppression, to mark out the globe for himself, and to resign, in his turn, a crown so hardly achieved. Of Nineveh — of Babylon — we have no remains: Of Egypt we have only charac- ters of degradation : of Rome there exist but the melancholy fragments of ruined grandeur. With the respective empires, the monuments of their power have been defaced or destroyed. Time has wasted the Gardens — extinguished the Paros — prostrated the Colossus — ^^dilapidated the Temple — unravelled the Labyrinth — broken down the Mau- soleum upon its dead — and left the Pyramids to mark the progress of his eQacing hand passing 110 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. over them, and to deride the foliy of human ambi- tion, when its works outlive the name of their projectors. When these exhibitions of human abiUty are swept away from the earth, or so much of them only remains as to awaken sentiments of pity more lively than those of admiration, history restores the empire, and science rears the fallen cities anew. Again Palmyra rises from among her ruined tem- ples and tottering pillars: again Rome assumes the sceptre of the world, and binds distant nations to her throne. The work of the destroyer is but half effected, while the record of former times re- mains. The heroes of antiquity live over again ; and the great monarchies burst forth afresh in all their yu'imeval splendour. Letters seein to promise that immortality which neither arms could com- mand, nor arts acquire. The blaze of war is quickly extinguished: — it is indeed a devouring fire ; but it is shortlived, in proportion to its fierce- ness. Like the beacon which is kindled to affright the nations, it burned for a night, and expired upon its own ashes. But the inspiration of the poet is a lambent flame, playing around the imagination from age to age, and shedding its mild and brilliant light upon distant lands and times, when the con- suming element of discord is forgotten. The magic pen of the historian raises from their resting place the departed shades of i)rinces and warriors, and embodying them in their proper forms, brings them again to act their part upon the stage of time, fills BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. Ill the world with new agents, and enahles us to judge of their characters with ease and accuracy ; while we feel ourselves sheltered from the miseries at the same time that we ascertain the extent of their policy and achievements. Yet this mausole- um of former greatness rears its majestic head only for a season. In vain the poet and the histo- rian promise themselves, or the subjects of their eulogy, immortality: in vain they flatter them- selves that they have erected a monument more durable than brass, loftier than the royal elevation of the pyramids ; which neither the wearing shower, the unavailing tempest, the innumerable succession of years, nor the flight of seasons, shall be able to demolish : they dream but of a fnme that shall move round the circle of time. Many such a fond enthusiast has floated down the stream, without leaving even the wreck of his name as a memorial. And of those who have stood highest on the records of renown, a part of their works has perished. Time has not spared even science. The precious fragments of ancient writings resem- ble the ruins of some great empire: enough re- mains to delight, to impress, to instruct; but these remnants cause us to lament the more bitterly that which is lost to us, as an evil irreparable, and af- ford a lesson more ample of human vanity than of human distinction. 112 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. CHRIST.— A TEACHER, In confirmation of the jud|,^ment repeatedly pass- ed upon the matchless character of our Lord's teaching-, the evangelists have sometimes detailed its features according to their apprehension; and remarked, " He taught them as one having author- ity, and not as the scrihes." This authority could not intend severity of manner ; for this would have been to leach "as the scribes," who laid much stress upon the weight and dignity ot their office, and manifested but little condescension "to men of low estate." How harshly, how arrogantly, they censured the followers of Jesus! "This peo- ple, who knoweth not the law, are cursed." How swift to judge ! how slow to reclaim ! how desti- tute of holy sympathy! even had their accusation been well founded. Not with such authority did Jesus teach : his authority was power, impression, effect — arising from the sublimity of the truths which he preached, the wisdom with which he unfolded them, and the clearness WMth which he applied them. Conviction followed his words, for demonstration accompanied them: they were spirit, they were life. He could appeal to the rulers as well cs to the multitude, and say, "We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen." His instructions had weight, both from the impor- tance of their matter, and the earnest, affectionate, energetic manner in which they were addressed to a perishing and long neglected people. The nega- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 113 tive, he taught them " not as the sc'ril)es," leaves us much to supply. He reversed all the haughty, cen- sorious,ohscure, and careless habits of that degener- ate class of teachers. His condescension was mani- fest, in addressing the multitude, whom they treated with contempt, and left to be destroyed by vice and ignorance. He sympathized in their priva- tions, sliared their poverty, elevated their hopes, imparted to them knowledge, and soothed their afflictions. He listened to their inquiries, resolved their doubts, bore with their infirmities, and was unwearied in his communications. He spake a language which they understood, and chose sub- jects which they felt: thus leading tliem from one degree of knowledge to another. He did not dis- dain to walk with them, to eat with them ; to en- force his public instructions by permitting private audiences. His gentleness was apparent in all his addresses. He did not scatter curses with a lavish and indiscriminate hand; but, although all judg- ment was committed to him, chose rather to exer- cise his delightful commission — to seek and to save that which was lost. Yes ; and he felt it to be a delightful commission, although its execution en- tailed upon him numberless privations and perse- cutions, and an ignominious death. The Shepherd of Israel gathered the lambs with his arm, and carried them in his bosom ; he collected that flock which his servants had scattered, and the unfaith- ful pastors devoured. He entreated, persuaded, wept — quenching the lightning of his eyes in tears 114 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. of love; and silencing the thunders of heaven, that the whispers of mercy might be heard. The hypocrites and the self-righteous alone were the objects of his holy indignation; upon them he turned the power of his eloquence and the terrors of his frown ; but he looked invitation to the poor, convinced, despairing sinner, while he saifl, "Come unto me, all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The Imninous chaiactev of his teaching stood opposed to tlje heavy litera- ture or the unintelligible exposition of the scribes. How could they, who did not themselves under- stand the law, who could not discern the Messiah in it, unfold its mysteries, or apply its revelations? Referring its leading features to an idol of their own imagination, while the great original stood before them, they must have been teachers no less obscure than unsafe. A temple from which the very types were fast vanishing away, and from which the Saviour to whom they related was expelled, could have but few attractions ; and the multitudes flocked to the side of the mountain, or the borders of the lake, to hear that exposition of the law, and to receive that simple, impressive, convincing in- formation, which they looked for in vain, from the appointed teachers, and in that once distinguished house of prayer from which the glory was depart- ed. The earnestness and energy of our Lord's teaching must have formed a strong contrast to the supineness and indifference of the scribes. Seeking only their own emolument and distinction, BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 115 they weie careless of the interests of the imperish- able spirit. Their own prophets iiad so severely arraigned such teachers, that they read their own condemnation in the synagogue every sabbath day I and if they were so blind as not to perceive, or so hardened as not to regard it, it is not to be imagin- ed that those who smarted under their authority, and perished through their neglect, could be equal- ly blind, or equally indifferent. Where could they look for a faithful shepherd, when the whole priesthood was alike corrupt? Behold! anew Teacher arises— indifferent to circumstances — careful only of principles. He can teach in any place, and at any time. He is found labouring, in season and out of season : He preaches from a boat, on the side of a hill, in the desert, by the way gjde — he consecrates every spot by his doctrines and prayers. x\nd, oh ! how eloquently he pleads the cause of man with himself! how fervently he argues against prejudice! how divinely he pities and forgives! how clearly he describes human ruin and redemption ! This, so attractive in itself, became irresistible when contrasted with the pride and indifference of their teachers. No wonder the common people heard him " gladly." Being crafty then, did he catch them with guile? O, no! dis- daining all art, influenced alone by love to man, he was justifying his name, Jesus; he was accom- plishing his work as a Saviour ; he was winning the souls which he was about to purchase with his own blood. 116 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. Such were some of the characters of our Lord's general teaching ; and they shame our levity, they censure our indolence, they reprove our careless- ness, as those to whom lie has deigned to commit the word of this salvation. Lives there the minis- ter, who does not feel the burning blushes of shame and indignation against himself rise to his cheek, while he contemplates the work and character of his Lord ? — O, for the mind of Christ, to rest upon those who enter into the labours of his love, and the ministry once comtnitted to the diligent and faithful hands of his apostles! THE MODEL OF A GOSPEL MINISTER SHOULD BE CHRIST AND HIS APOSTLES. When the illustrious rival of Demosthenes, after an unsuccessful struggle to share with him the palm of eloquence, retreated from the public eye to con- ceal his tlefeat in retirejnent, he had the magna- nimity to place the oration which had occasioned his disgrace in the hands of his pupils ; and when he saw their countenances kindling as they read it, until they were unable longer to restrain their feel- ings, which broke outinto expressions of unbound- ed admiration, so far from suffering jealousy to withhold from his victor the well earned meed of praise, he encouraged their enthusiasm, and ex- claimed, "What then would you have said if you had heard him deliver it ?" With reflections some BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 117 what correspondent, I read the sermons of our Lord and his apostles, as they are recorded in the sacred volume. Glowing and elegant passages, presented only to the eye, lose half the efficacy they possessed, when the ear was associated with this sense, and when every sentiment was embel- lished by corresponding tones and gestures. The orations of such nien as Demosthenes and Cicero may well be admired: for what must have been their original fire, when they retain so much heat still, and present themselves to us so advantageous- ly, without the auxiliaries of manner and emphasis after the lapse of so many years, and when the in- terests which excited them have ceased ! The ser- mons of our Lord and of his apostles, have the disadvantages common to all written discourses ; and some peculiar to themselves. They are trans- mitted to us mere fragments — as sketches, hastily but faithfully drawn. And, if, for instance, the train of discussion pursued by St. Paul at Athens, appearing on the pages of the Acts of the Apostles as a line faintly traced by a masterly hand, rushes through the mind, and overpowers the feelings; what must it have been to have seen and heard him on that occasion, when his spirit was stirred within him, and he stood to plead the cause of truth and religion, surrounded by the altars of superstition, and the images of idolatry ! If the imagination is early inspired by the most beautiful specimens of classical eloquence, the judgment must often regret that so much force should be 118 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. wasted upon subjects so trivial — upon circum- stances local and transient, upon fading interests ; and still more must the moral taste be shocked, that these illustrious talents should be, as they frequently were, prostituted to the service of vice, and heavenly eloquence debased to excuse or commend brutal passions. This accusation can never be alleged against the inspired volume. Su- perior to all other writings in the majesty of its style, it infinitely excels them in the character of its subjects : it never seduces, never trifles, never advocates or extenuates evil : it is irresistibly elo- quent, and it is essentially true. To these writings, therefore, rather than to any of the admired models of antiquity, should the preacher go, to gather both the matter and the manner of his sermons. It may become the phy- sician to compare his knowledge and experience with the researches and observations of others celebrated in former ages for excelling in his science. It behoves the politician to be versed in the history of ancient as well as modern times, that he may be well acquainted with the secret springs of government, and develope the causes which im- pede or facilitate their operation. It is profitable to the sculptor to. recur to the remaining speci- mens of those mighty masters of an art which was long- upon the decline, and which has not yet wholly recovered those just proportions and that graceful symmetry which distinguished the chisels of antiquity. Nor would we deprive the minister BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 119 of those gratifications which must result to him as a scholar, from an acquaintance with the pages of classical literature : hut as a jireacher, we send him to learn his science, and the best method of imparting it, to the models presented in the scrip- tures themselves: and call him from the Grecian or the Roman orator, to learn of Peter, and Paul, and James, and John ; above all, to sit at the feet of Jesus himself. For, if these remarks are just, respecting the servants, they njust apply with still greater force to the Master ; and the parables of Jesus contain more perfect examples of the wisdom and beauty of his instructions, than any sketches of his continued discourses furnish; because they are finished, as to the detail of their imagery ; they are not mere outline — they are filled up, and the occasions of them are recorded sufiiciently to en- able us to ascertain with precision the sentiment conveyed in the figure employed. THE MINISTRY WHICH GOD APPROVES. That preaching must be always deemed the most scriptural, wliich, while it attracts the vicious by the force and affection of its appeals, is found to reclaim them by the purity and divinity of its principles. The sermons which only please the superficial, or interest the learned by their specula- lions or gratify the polite by their taste and elo- quence, may indeed give a transient popularity to 120 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. the preacher — which he ought to despise, if lent him on such grounds ; or distinguish him as a man of elegant literature ; but the ministry which God approves is founded upon tlie grand and convinc- ing doctrines of the gospel ; and wliile it often gives offence because of its plainness and simplicity, never fails to subdue human obduracy, and, gather- ing the vilest characters around the cross, while it pronounces their pardon, requires their obedience. DUTIES. REVEALED TRUTHS AFFORD TO FAITH ITS PROPER EXERCISE. These are of a nature inexplicable by any mere- ly mental powers; and to be apprehended only by a principle as spiritual as themselves. The senses, and objects of sense are adapted to each other. The reason, and subjects of reason, are mutually intellectual, and precisely accordant. But doc- trines which are not cognizable by sense, nor at- tainable by reason, demand a faculty of their own, by which they may be appreciated and apprehend- ed. And let not the sceptic exult, as though this concession involved the rationality of religion — it is most rational always to suppose faculties adapt- ed to the subjects to which they are to be appUed; and I do not see, if the being of God be admitted, BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 12I and it be granted, as an inevitable corollary, that It is of infinite importance to man to know his duties to his Creajor, how this knowledge is to be obtained, except by revelation, or how revelation can be supposed to act, except by faith. The things which we want to know, in such a connex- ion, lie beyond the line of nature; and reason sought them in the exercise of all the brightness of her faculties, and the ardour of her inquiries, until baffled and wearied in her researches, without having discovered "the mystery which was hid from ages and generations," she was compelled to desist, and to confess that " the world by wisdom knew not God." Then revelation interposed; and "life and immortality were brought to light by the gospel." Nothing contrary to reason can be justly alleged against her ; but we find every where, every thing that surpasses it. She leads us beyond the confines of nature, to lose ourselves in the Infinite— beyond material suns, to adore the uncreated Fountain of Light. She takes reason by the hand, as the companion of her way, till the powers of reason fail— and then, spreading her immortal pinions, bears the spirit into eternity and places it at the foot of the throne of God, 11 122 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. CHRISTIANITY DISTINGUISHED FROM MOD- ERN PHILOSOPHY. "Thou slialt love tliy neiglibour as thyself." In this duty Christianity distinguishes itself from modern philosophy ; which, affecting an universal philanthro])y, trampled upon home, interests, and natural affections. It theoretically projected the moral cultivation of the world ; and commenced its disastrous and ruinous career by plucking up the hedge planted around the domestic and social enclosure. It made attention, to the individual, a crime ; while it boasted of love to the species. Revelation advances hand in hand with nature. Its auspicious influence begins at home. It is felt first by the family — then in the neighbourhood. It acknowledges patriotism, without forgetting hu- manity : and serves the cause of universal benevo- lence, by cherishing the charities of natural con- nexion. But here it does not rest — nor was ever designed to stay its beneficent purpose. Every human being is my neighbour, when that human being is in want, and I have it in my power to succour him. It more than adopts the maxim of the heathen poet — "I am a man, and nothing hu- man is foreign from my heart." It turns sentiment into action — and urges conviction to exertion. It writes upon the heart, "Pure religion and undefil- ed, from God even the Father, is this — to visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." Match BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 123 less combination ! The God of purity, who de- mands the sanctity of his creatures, and says, "Without hohness shall no man see the Lord ;" is also the God of love — and commands, "Be ye kindly afFectioned one towards another. Thou shalt love thv nei^^hbour as thvself." Wherever Christianity has flourished, mercy has reigned. She has imparted to our country her proudest superiority. It is not the superiority of her genius — although the fame of her children has filled all lands, and gone forth to the end of the world. It is not the superiority of her arms — although she has carried her thunder to the most distant climes, and subjected to herself the world of waters. But it is the superiority of her char- ities. She is satisfied to yield to matchless Greece, to imperial Rome, and to many a modern state, the splendor of palaces, and the magnificent mon- uments of architectural skill : but she yields to none, she surpasses all, in her beneficence ; and she subordinates even the arts to her compassion, and displays the fairest and most perfect models of their excellence in her houses of mercy. This is her living temple — consecrated to the God to whom she owes her liberties — and from whom she re- ceived the command, "Thou shalt love thy neigh- bour as thyself." Exulting in his favour, and adopting love to him as the principle of our lives, we shall find that the 124 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. enlargement of the action nuist correspond with the infinity of its source. Overstepping the limits of political demarcation, it will find a hrother in every country: immortal as the Deity from whom it emanates, it will triumph over age and infirmity — and we "shall not be weary in well-doing;" conscious of its source, it will live amidst the ag- onies of death ; and rising above the tomb, it will find its centre in God himself, and its full expan- sion, its unfettered exercise, amidst the sinless ranks of angels, the spirits of tlie just made perfect, the glorious inhabitants of heaven, in a world where love, and love alone, forever reigns. SUBMISSION IN AFFLICTION. It is always easy to give to others the best pos- sible rules for the regulation of their ])assions, tempers, and spirits in the hour of affliction — but, oh ! if the visitation is upon ourselves, all our phi- losophy, and too much of our religion, forsakes us. We forget our suflerings, and too often our obliga- tions, and feel only the smart of our chastisement. We are intent upon the rod, until we forget alto- gether "Him who hath appointed it;" and that which was falsely charged upon patient Job, is but too true of us — " Behold thou hast instructed many, and thou hast strengthened the weak hands. Thy words have upholden him that was falling, and thou hast strengthened the feeble knees. But BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 125 now it has come upon thee and thou faintest; it touchelh thee, and tliou art troubled," What, then, is the submission required in afLYic- tion? Let us at least learn the duty, if it be only to ascertain how far we fall sliort of it, and to be humbled accordingly. It is not to be insensible. What good end can affliction answer, if it be not felt? Where is christian heroism, if nothing be endured ? Wliat sacrifice is it, if that which is re- quired be not valued ? Christianity knows nothing of the stoicism which forbids the heart to suffer, and the tear to flow. Its glory is to feel all the affliction, and to produce a consolation which shall more than alleviate it — more than counterbalance it — which shall turn the most threatening circum- stances into the most essential benefit — and from the trial of our faith, educe the salvation of our souls. Philosophy boasts of making the heart as adamant — so that the lightning shall strike it, and find it an impassive, impenetrable, insoluble rock of ice: Christianity professes to make it "a heart of flesh," alive to every impression; all suscepti- bility and sensibility — vital through every nerve, fibre, and particle — and to subordinate the whole to the divine will, and the divine government. O, glorious triumpli ! the triumph of the most perfect feeling, and of the most perfect faith, at the same moment ! As it is not to be insensible, so submission im- plies that it is not to be hardened. The christian has the fortitude to encounter death, but he has 126 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. not the courage to defy God. "Who ever har- dened himself against him, and prospereci ?" But it is not, with the good man, a subject of calcula- tion. It is a principle emanating from God — sub- ordinating all things to its influence — recognizing him under all circumstances — and in submitting to his wise and gracious, though frequently painful, and always mysterious appointments — sheltering itself under his power, and reposing in his tender- ness. It is not the winding up of every faculty of the mind, and every corporeal agent to the pitch of endurance; but the prostration of every mental power, and every earthly possession, before the great Proprietor of all — thus placing his own at his entire disjios^^al. No resistance is opposed to the rights of Deity — but the acknowledgment is, " it is the Lord, let him do wliat seemeth him good." "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" "Not my will, thy will be done." No complaint is breathed — nature may speak, but ought not to accuse — she may give vent to her grief, but not charge God foolishly. " Shall we receive good at the hand of the Lord, and shall we not receive evil also ?" " He hath not dealt with us after our sins, neither hatlj he rewarded us ac- cording to our iniquities." NoJUght is attempted like that of our guilty first parent, when he would have concealed himself amidst the trees of the gar- den — or the no less vain effort of Jonah, to flee from his commission, and the presence of him by whom it was imposed. No imputation will be al- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 127 leged against the moral government of God, or the benevolence of his ciiaracter; nor will hard thoughts he indulged of him, even in the heart. That they may he suggested is probable ; but that they will be, by the christian, repelled with righte- ous indignation, is certain: and submissive acqui- escence will rise into entire resignation, inducing the temper, while it employs the language of the text— "The will of the Lord be done." CAPTIVITY THE CHARACTERISTIC OF SPIRIT. Activity is the characteristic of spirit ; and noth- ing so completely distinguishes it from the body, as the instrument of its volitions, than this body ike allmatter, waits for a foreign impulse, to put all its fine and beautiful organization into motion. It is most delicately and surprisingly adapted to all the purposes to which its operations can possibly be applied. In some instances the gossomerwing of the sunmier's fly is not a film more attenuated than its fibres— in others, iron and brass are less durable than its muscular action— in all, a wisdom and complexity are visible, which not only surpass human skill, but which defy human research, and compel the anatomist to admire what he compre- hends, and to leave unsolved the great results of nerves and animal spirits, and sympathies, in which he is reduced to employ terms relative to efl^ects, the causes of which he in the mysterious union be- 128 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. tween mind and matter, far beyond the cogni- zance of the most sensitive touch, the most pene- trating eye, and the most patieLt investigation — while philosophy, speculating upon the little that is certainly known, presumes much upon that which is undiscovered, and often weaves a theory of which ingenuity is its principal recommenda- tion. In the mean while, all this is but the exter- nal display of the matchless machinery — the main- spring of which is spirit Life was communicated directly from the Creator; and is so immediately imparted in all successive generations. It is grant- ed at an unknown moment — it takes its departure as secretly. In both cases we are conscious of its presence or absence, only by certain external movements — the source of the impulse is always secret. Yet, while it is encircled with a body, which seems rather its prison than its palace, be- cause of the manifest restraint which it lays upon its mighty energies, its powers are not to be whol- ly limited to the vehicle of its volitions. Some- times it breaks the boundaries of its mortal condi- tion — soars beyond all material worlds, and all their suns, in its unfettered imagination : and at others, when the body is laid asleep in the uncon- sciousness of animation temporally suspended, roams far remote from the fields of nature, em- bodies uncreated forms, and presents the awful and inexplicable phenomenon of dreams — the enigma of philosophy, and the sure pledge of im- mortality- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 129 TRUST IN GOD INCOMPATIBLE WITH THE NEGLECT OF DUTY. He only can be truly said to confide in God who waits upon him in his ordinances, in his word, and by earnest supplication to learn his will — who watches narrowly every signal of his providence — receives thankfully every intimation of his plea- sure — obeys cheerfully every indication of the divine mind — and en)ploys diligently all the means with which God has furnished him, to promote his own interests in conformity with those of society. Ev- ery thing has its season, and " he hath made every thing beautiful in his time." But if the season is suflTered to pass away unimproved — all is lost. And who is to be censured? the beneficent Creator, whose unwearied liberality affords a succession of mercies, and an ample supply of good ? or the shameless trifler, who neglects the opportunity, and slights the benefactor? "Go to the ant, thou slug- gard; consider her ways and be wise." Shall he who suffers the seed time to pass, and his field to lie fallow, accuse Providence because he has no har- vest? Oh, ungrateful man! how often did the sea- sons pass, and lift up their warning voice in vain. Spring, the most beautiful of them all, the earliest and fairest daughter of the year, came — and in accents which charmed the nightingale, said. "Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over, and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of the sing- ing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is 12 130 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. heard in our land. The fig tree pulteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise — and come away I" And the insensible trifler slumbered. She scattered her perfumes, and showered her blossoms, and depart- ed. Then came Summer, and found the sluggard asleep. He came, with his face embrowned with labour, and glowing with energy. He wore the circlet of his majesty, a wreath of the fiercest sun- beams — and cried aloud in the voice of his own thunder — " What meanest thou, O sleeper; arise, and call upon thy God." The loiterer was roused, he started up — he saw all nature teeming with life, and replete with energy — he gazed for a moment, admired the scene — laid himself down, and slept again. Summer began to veil the intensity of his brightness, and yielded to Autumn — she drew near, with a solemn and gentle pace — and when she had gathered her ripe clusters, passed by the sleeper, and sprinkled him with her chilling dew-drops — while she admonished — "Redeem the time — work while it is called day — for the night cometh when no man can work:" and retired, unheard. At length when the hollow blast announced the ap- ])roach of the closing season, and the lastsear lear was swept from the tree — the man awoke, to catch the parting gleams of the setting sun — and to see Winter ride on, in his car of storms, driven by the whirlwind, and canopied with clouds and darkness. And while he casts a desponding eye upon the dreary waste of desolation, stretched around him BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 131 on every side, can such a man presume to arraign the benii^nity of providence, because he finds him- self without shelter, and without provision ? While we avoid negligence, therefore, on the one hand, let us beware of undue anxieties on the other ; equally inconsistent as these are with that submission to providence, which, in the use of the prescribed means, confides the whole to the divine paternity. Shall not he, who has browglit us hith- erto, through every difficulty — through perils seen and unseen — who has sustained us, in the pres- ence of friends and of enemies — who has done for us "exceeding abundantly above all that we could either ask or think" — who has made our strength equal to our day, and his grace sufficient for us — who has disappointed our fears and surpassed our hopes — who has never neglected, never abandon- ed, never forgotten us — shall not he be trusted with the little oflife that remains? " O ye of little faith, wherefore do ye doubt?" — "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all other things shall be added unto you." "Take, therefore, no thought," no doubting, anxious, un- due thouglit, "for the morrow: — for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Suffi- cient unto the day is the evil thereof." lie who re- ally submits to Providence, is armed against every foe, fortified against every danger — prepared for every event — superior to every calamity — " His hand the good man fastens on the skies — Then bids the earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl!" 132 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. He defies time, chance, and change — for he trusts in Him, who is the same "yesterday, and to day, and forever !" SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. Before a man can confer upon society, or re- ceive from it advantages, he must possess social affections, and form social habits. Without the first, he is incapable of deriving satisfaction from intercourse with his fellow-men. If his hopes and his fears, his pleasures and his pains, are selfish, he comes into contact with society by accident on- ly : he never seeks its interchanges of kindness: the collision shocks rather than pleases him : he is incapable of association : circumstances may throw him and his neighbour together, but aflTection alone can form an union ; this is the cement of kindred spirits ; and without it, the man withdraws so soon as possible to his solitude, like the brute, to devour his morsel alone. There may be temporary adhe- sion, where there is no permanent conibination — lo- cality, without admixture: pressure may unite two bodies for a season, when there is no actual junc- tion. There may be communion without conge- niality — a confederacy of interests or convenience, without concord of mind and temper. These alli- ances are fortuitous, and cannot be permanent: while they last, they want the true social bond — soul ; and when they are dissolved, there is no BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 133 parting pang — it is rather a subject of gratulatlon. General intercourse ftartakes too much of this ad- ventitious and selfish character, to deserve the no- bler appellation of social — it is contact, but not communion. We have spoken of hahits, as well as of affec- tions, as essential to society. A social state re- quires something attractive and winning in the manners; some pliability of temper; some self- denial; some sacrifices. Some of these things will appear under the division of personal duties ; when describing particular dispositions of mind, we shall easily see, what tempers and manners best suit the social state ; and others will be spec- ified on the present occasion, as we follow the subject: general hints respecting habits, are all that can now be furnished ; with a few obligations, as universal as they are obvious, which must be enumerated. Habits of peace should be cultivated. A temper apt to take fire, is like Samson's foxes carrying their burning brands into the corn-fields— their course is fury, and its consequences desolation. An intermeddling temper, fond of prying into priv- acy, of tale bearing, of scattering abroad the un- certain information so imf)erfectly gleaned, and so surreptitiously obtained, produces incalculable mischief; — it resembles Solomon's madman, scat- tering " firebrands, arrows, and death ; and saying, Am I not in sport?" The scourge of this disposi- 134 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. tion must fall under the vices of the tongue, in the discussion of its government. "If it be possible as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men" — and this is to be done only by avoiding occasions of offence. " Study to be quiet, and to do your own business" — this is the christian rule, and it is the most simple and effec- tual that can be imagined to secure the advantages of society : which will depend more upon our habits of mildness and conciliation, than ui)on our most active services, even were these supported by a ge- nius as powerful as our spirits are ardent. In pre- serving union, more is to be avoided, than accom- plished : and our most severe, and most ijnportant duties, will be often those rather which are passive, than those which are active. Habits of ju5h*ce are required, without which, the social compact must be speedily dissolved. The oppressor, like Ishmael, has his hand against eve- ry man, and every man's hand against him. He who refuses to act his part in society, is a fragment broken off from the grand structure, deforming the edifice by the little chasm which he has left, and lying neglected upon the ground, while he partakes of neither the grandeur or the strength, the unity or the durability of the building. Such a fragment is the indolent; who contributes nothing to the general weal, and is treated in return with just in- difference. Moderation is of importance in our social habits. The mind that has no resources in itself is too apt BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 135 to prey upon others — to invade retirement — to in- terrupt private duties — to tax the patience and ur- banity of the friendly and the industrious: — and this, not intentionally, but from an habitual sloth, which incapacitates the social persecutor from du- ly estimating the time so invaluable to others — and a no less habitual selfishness, which forgets what is due to other interests than its own, and too high- ly rates its personal gratifications. "Withdraw thy foot from thy neighbour's house, lest he be weary of thee, and hate thee." Habits of delicacy deeply influence society. There is a rudeness that oflTends a gentle spirit, where no evil is intended by the boisterous asso- ciate. Himself a stranger to milder emotions, he feels astonished that those who would prize his sterling qualities shrink from his company. But if the enjoyments of society arise from that kind and amiable spirit of mutual accommodation, which calls forth the buds and blossoms of the moral and intellectual world, as the genial influ- ences of the spring unfold the flowers and foli- age of the visible creation, this turbulent invader of the social circle comes, like the east wind of that season of promise, beauty, and mutability, to spread desolation over the fair scenery, by blowing upon it too roughly. Habits of consistency, must be considered as es- sential to the well-being of society, and should be carefully cultivated. Caprice destroys confidence — and confidence is the foundation of all real com- 136 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. munion. If one mode of conduct be pursued to- day, and another to-morrow, the uncertainty an- nihilates trust. If that which pleases one moment? ofienus the next — farewell the pleasure of inter- course, and with it the social imion. To press this individual point of consistency, must belong to the government of the temper, hereafter to be consid- ered: but in s{)eaking of those general habits upon which the weal of societydepends, it is of importance to insist upon it, that those who would avail them- selves of its advantages, should give themselves the trouble to know their own mind, and not to subject all who approach them occasionally, or are connected with them more intimately, to the un- certainty whether they are to be received with the chilling apathy of indifference, the lowering frown of displeasure, or the warm cordiality of friend- ship; and the still greater uncertainty from what possible cause this mutable and capricious deport- ment arises. There is a consistency also which society ex- pects from age and station. That which would be levity in age, possesses a charm of sprightliness in youth. That which would be unbecoming in one station of life, is natural, easy, unconstrain- and amiable in another. From elders, referring an well to office as to age, the apostle requires gravity; and let no one attempt to justify, upon this demand, whatever be his profession, or what- ever his time of life, a morose, supercilious, un- bending spirit. Suavity, cheerfulness, and socia- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 137 bilitv, are consistent with the most solemn calling, and the most advanced periods of life. It is diffi- cult to say, which is most disgusting — old age af- fecting childliood, or childhood aping old age. If childishness must, in some melancholy instances, be associated with advanced years, let it be the imbecility of the understanding, and not the weak- ness of the heart — let it be apparent that the effects deplored are the ravages of time, and not the choice of a vain, worldly, trifling imagination. For "aged women" to deck themselves like girls, tore- tain affectations which were never tolerated by good sense, but overlooked in the personal graces with which they were accompanied, and pardoned because of the tender age in which they were in- dulged — would move derision, if shame were not at hand to suppress it. For "aged men" in their dotage, to imagine themselves in their boyhood,' betrays them into absurdities as pernicious to so- ciety as odious to themselves. The counterpart of this, is the affectation of experience, wisdom, and authority, on the part of childhood and youth. Advancing years, and habitual contact with the world, will teach suspicion soon enough, far too soon, for the honour of human nature, and the comfort of the individual — but to see the youth, who is little more than a child, locking up his heart, and casting a doubtful eye upon those by whom he is surrounded, argues something wrong within — a consciousness of some concealed mo- tives on his own part, which induce that suspicion of others, the justice of which experience cannot 138 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. have taught him, and the existence of which is so hateful to the benevolent spirit, the undisguised character, and the frank emotions of unsophisti- cated youth, that observation alone would not be sufficiently powerful to impress it upon the gener- ous heart. There is also a consistency of a higher charac- ter, giving perfection to all these general habits so necessary to society; it is re/ig'ioits consistency, on the part of a christian, and is marked by his puri- ty. He loses none of his civil rights by Christiani- ty: he is not withdrawn from the social circle; but he is eminently qualified to inform, improve and ornament it. "I pray not," said the depart- ing Saviour in his last prayer — " that thou shouldst take tUein out of the world, but that thou shouldst keep them from the evil." To walk through and not inhale its pestilential atmosphere — to scatter around him life and healing as he advances — is his glorious prerogative. He is required to "adorn the doctrine of God his Saviour in all things." Purity is his jirinciple — consistency its application. He bears about with him the natuie of man : but shews every where impressed upon it the im- age of God. PARENTAL AFFECTION. There are emotions too powerful to be ex- pressed ; too ethereal to be substantiated ; too spir- itual to be embodied. Such are the vivid, varied, attenuated anxieties of parental tenderness: yet BEAUTIES OF COLLY ER. 139 Solomon's powerful genius arrested and perpetu- ated tliern : and such is his commanding eloquence, that they scarcely seem to lose any thing, by being clothed in language ; his expressions are the types of his aftections ; his appeal rises warm from his heart. "Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father, and attend to know understanding. For I give you good doctrine, fotsake you not my law. For I was my father's son, tender and only be- loved in the sight of my mother. He taught me also, and said unto me. Let thine heart retain my words: keep my commandments, and live." This is not egotism: it is the expression of powerful feeling, and manifests the heart to be more deeply interested for others than for himself A man may speak of himself, when it is to benefit others ; to give greater weight to his counsels; to take deeper root in the affections; and to obtain a firmer hold upon them, for their instruction and advantage, without being an egotist. Egotism is a compound of selfishness and vanity ; in the above text, there is not a particle of either. It is full of pa- ternal emotion : and, while the father speaks of himself, he is thinking of his children ; he speaks of himself only to interest them more effectually, and give force to his instructions ; and never thinks of himself less, than while he is proposing to them his own example, and that of his parents; to whose memory a gush of filial tenderness breaks forth, ami commingles with his paternal anxieties. There is, in this admonition, I know not what 140 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. charm of recollection. The past comes again, clothed in the bright radiance of hope, such as it once appeared, before reality had extinguished its light, and broken its day-dream. Childhood re- turns with all its intensity of ardour, all its sim- plicity of character, all its buoyancy of spirits, all its fearless confidence, all its lively gaiety, all its thoughtless mirth, all its varied emotions, all its warm affections. The vivacity which beguiled the parent of many a smile, and drew forth also many a tear — which, in placing before him all he loved, shewed him at the same moment all he had to fear — returns upon the father: he remembers what he was as a child, and what his parents were to him; he remembers counsels little heeded at the time, and too much neglected afterwards ; and, without forgetting that he is himself a parent, he places before his own children the wisdom of his father, and the result of his own experience. It is impossible for me to convey to others, in any adequate language, the emotions which this pas- sage, so full of feeling and of gentleness, awakens in my bosom. It seems to me to speak, on the part of the writer, of departed joys, recalled by the occasion, but not to be retained: the flashings of youthful pleasures, and vivacity upon old age, like the fitful coruscations of the aurora borealis upon a northern sky at midnight — enchanting, but mo- mentary ; bright, but cold ; playing over a scene of darkness with partial, sudden, transient illumina- tion, to leave the shades deeper and more dreary BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 141 than before. Such are the recollections of child- hood and youth, with their train of hopes disap- pointed, promises blighted, advantages neglected, and knowledge spurned, until too dearly bought by experience. FILIAL DUTIES. Love, is the first and grand spring of filial duty. To suppose its absence, is to libel human nature. The claims of the mother are so gentle, and those of the father so reasonable, that hotJi ought to be irresistible. I have stated the principle, because of its importance, in giving character to duty — not as requiring either explanation or defence. I send the young man home to his mother's painful anx- ieties on his account — to her watchings over him in sickness — her caresses of his infancy — her tears — her fidelity : I send him to his father's counsels — his labours — his sacrifices — his manly tenderness: these are to act upon his heart; and if there be a son or a daughter, upon whose heart these consid- erations will not act, to produce correspondent love, I have the misfortune to have found one of those whom the apostle places upon the blackest catalogue of human crimes, and whom he des- cribes " as without natural affection." Docility will be the product of this principle. The ingenuous child will defer to the opinion of his father — will reverence his wisdom, and cheer- fully yield to his authority — will acknowledge that 142 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. his matured understanding is fitter to guide his course, than his own twilight judgment ; and will give that good and tender father credit, for intend- ing in all his arrangenrents, ids advantage, and this only. He will yield, not only without a struggle, but with joy, to the instructions of that mother, whose soul of love looks at him through her eyes and whose voice trembles with emotions of tender- ness, while she exhorts him — " What, my son ? and what, the son of my womb? and what, the son of my vows?" Let my young female friends listen — Never choose a man for your husband, who has been an undutiful son. You will have no hold up- on him: believe me, he that has shewn no filial af- fections, has no heart at all — do not trust him with your peace. He may have a thousand personal graces, and a thousand acquired accomplishments, but this one defect annihilates the whole. And wo to that unhappy young man, who shall choose the partner of his life from amongst perverse daughters: he has taken to his bosom, a fire that will consume him. The best pledge of future relative excellen- ces must be sought among the earliest indications of filial duty. A good son, and a good daughter, cannot make a bad wife, or a profligate husband. The claims of filial duty are absolute and indisso- luble. The God who made you requires them at your hands. "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honour thy father and thy mother (which is the first commandment with promise,) that it may be well with thee, and that BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 143 ihou inayest live long on the earth." It is re- markable that this is the only moral precept that has a distinct promise attached to it, and that of a temporal and immediate nature: and surely shews in what estimation in the sight of God is filial duty. On the other hand, how dreadful is his figurative denunciation — "The eye thai mocketh his father, and despiseth to obey his mother ; the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it." How tremendous is his sen- tence — "Cursed be he that setteth light by his father or his mother." How justly severe his an- cient law, which decreed "the stubborn and re- bellious son to die by stoning under the hand of the men of the city where he dwelt," as a pest of society not to be endured. How full and ample are the instructions of filial duty, both in the Old and New Testaments ! and how illustrious are those examples by which they are supf)orted. The filial reverence of Isaac, was marked on an occasion of all others the most important — the choice of a wife. And this single instance of filial piety speaks volumes, both to parents and children. I will venture two remarks, upon which incal- culable interests are suspended. It is absolutely essential to the duty of a child, not to form such a connexion without consulting tlie feelings, and being guided by the counsels, of the parent. And, oh I let me impress upon the hearts of parents the 144 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. counter duty of consulting, in all their predilec- tions, the hearts of their children. I know of no act of tyranny more cruel, than availing them- selves either of the authority with which the laws of their country arm them, or the influence with which nature invests them, to urge against the affections and the judgment, the formation of a connexion which cannot be dissolved, and which must necessarily involve the happiness, or misery, of an entire life. The example of Moses — at the height of his power and grandeur — in the reverence which he paid to Jethro, who was only his father in-law — should teach filial duty. Solomon never appeared so great, as when he rose from his throne, and bowed himself before his mother, Bathsheba — when she appeared as a peti- tioner, and he was discharging the duties of a sov- ereign. Ruth — gentle, excellent Ruth — throws upon filial duties the lustre of an almost unrivalled example. "Entreat me not," said she, "to leave thee, or to return from following after thee ; for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge : thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diesti will die, and there will I be bur- ied. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me." And she received a full recompense from "the Lord God of Israel, un- der the shadow of whose wings she came to trust." Timothy, sitting at the feet of his mother Eunice? BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 145 and his gratKlmotlier Lois, and learning from them the truths of those "Scriptures which were ahle to make him wise unto salvation, through faith that is in Christ Jesus," must interest every youthful lieart. But a greater than allthese, "Jesus himself sub- ject to his parents," put the crown of glory upon the head of filial duty. These claims are a\so indissoluble. Oh! I would not, for the universe, carry in my bosom, for one hour, the scor[)ion stings which must torment the ungrateful child, when he turns from the grave of his parent. But he, who has carried his filial ob- ligations and tenderness to the last sad ofiices, and fixed to them no limit but that which death pre- scribes, may in that solemn moment lift his eyes to heaven, and to the Parent who reigns there, and say, " My Father, thou shalt be the guide of my youth" — and he siiall be accepted 1 SUICIDE. No sophistry can justify, no eloquence can palli- ate, no example can consecrate this offence against God, society, and ihe individual himself. Insanity, indeed, if it be really substantiated, by depriving the individual of a reasonable control over his pas- sions, absolves him from moral responsibility. But in the face of this offence, it is such a palpable sin against nature and providence, that charity induces 13 146 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. the conclusion of mental aberration, frequently upon very slender evidence. This reluctance to believe that the act could be done, except under the influence of a disordered judgment, speaks loudly the general conviction of mankind as to the guilt of self-murder. That will admit of no satis- factory defence which the common sense, and the common feeling of mankind regard with abhor- rence ; and which their compassion for the offend- er, condemns but the more strongly. Although nature is depraved, there are certain great princi- ples remain not wholly obliterated — the traces of original rectitude — and which are recognized in all ages, and among all nations : and when these are restored by divine influence, the man becomes a christian. This is called ^^ ihe i-eneiving of the mind." But in their common state, they revolt from self-murder, as an act equally condemned by reason, conscience, and religion. The last is the infallible guide ; and serves as a light to the ope- rations of the former. The origin of suicide may be, therefore, traced almost uniformly to infidelity — either of the heart, or of the judgment — or of both. It is because men either persuade themselves that "that there is no God" — and this conclusion is so great an ab- surdity, that even the fool dares only to whisper it "in his heart" — or they suppose that he takes no cognizance of human events ; that he is too great to be interested in what is passing among men ; that be ha^ abandoned the world which he made BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 147 to chance; and that, even if his general providence be admitted, lie leaves unregarded the interests of the indiviikial, who rnay, therefore, slide away un- noticed from the aggregate of society — or they conclude that there is no future state, and that the worst that can happen befals them here; from which calamity they may deliver themselves by self-destruction — or they judge of him, rather by their wishes and exigencies, than by the revela- tion of his character which he has made in his word ; and hope that he will not visit for these things, and that the extremity will excuse the offence — or they boldly set his justice, his power, his laws, and his authority, at defiance ; and as they were not parties to their own being in its grant, they are not bound to wait its close, or they will not obey his mandate to that effect: — to one of these causes, all of which s|jring from infidelity) must the crime of suicide be traced, whenever it does not originate in insanity. The only excep- tion that can be imagined is, a sudden frenzy, in- duced by uncontrollable circumstances overpower- ing reason : but this, if it unseat the reason only for a time, is insanity : if it be a burst of passion, to which the reason yields without being dispos- sessed of her throne, whatever be the provoca- tion, the result is criminal: because the passions ought to have been so habitually guarded, as in no case, so long as the understanding remains, to gain the supposed ascendancy- I have said, that the several causes already assigned, with the ex- 148 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. ception of insanity, either constitutional or tempo- rary, arise from infidelity. For religion asserts the being of God — and Nature establishes the po- sition. Religion maintains the Divine sovereignty, and that the moral government of God extends over all things — and Providence confirms the fact. Religion reveals a future state of rewards and punishments, involving man's responsibility — and Conscience admits, in its hopes, and fears, and premonitions, the doctrine. Religion explains that the Judge eternal is the avenger of guilt, and will try the offender by his own rectitude, and the principles established in the Scriptures, and not by human caprice or infirmity — and Reason recog- nises a conclusion so consistent. Religion asserts the right, and the exclusive right of Deity, to dis- pose of man, and to limit the life which he has giv- en — and Justice agrees that a demand so obviously arising out of the relation between the Creator and the creature, cannot be resisted without treason against the eternal Majesty. Suicide, involving the converse of all these propositions, advanced by revelation, supported as they are by nature. Provi- dence, conscience, reason, and justice, must origi- nate in infidelity. The justification also of this act, attempted to be drawn from the example of eminent men in an- tiquity, and from the opinions of others, among the most distinguished heathen philosophers — induces the inference of doubt upon the subject, if not of suspicion. That*which is plainly right, carries its BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 149 evidence in itself, and seeks no foreign justifica- tion : it leaves the principle to make its own way, and time to demonstrate its purity and propriety. When we hegin to jiesitate in any point, it is time to abandon it: whatever is doubtful, may be criminal ; and we are taught to "abstain from all appearance of evil." But this is an act more than dubious — conscience startles at it — and examples are sought, not to try the justice of the scruples involuntarily obtruded, but, if possible, to remove them. The examples gathered from antiquity, are far from displaying, in most cases, dignity of char- acter ; they consisted then, as now, in a petulant and imjiatient quarrel with Providence : or in a most unphilosophical predominance of the ])as- sions : or in a proud and cold scepticism, which having first chilled the charities of life into apathy, left it with contempt. Devotion to patriotism, or to religion, however mistaken in some cases, must be excepted, as emanating from a better principle ; and should be regarded as a sacrifice to duty, real or supposed : which enters into the question of self-preservation especially, and not into the con- demnation of suicide: because although these re- signed tliemselves for an object which they con- sidered as paramount to life, in point of obligation as well as value, they did not fall by their own hand, but surrendered themselves to perish — ex- cepting in a few instances, depending upon very extraordinary circumstances. These too are special questions, which must be left to the un- 150 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. erring equity of the Judge Eternal. The opinions of the most illustrious men in the heathen world also differed widely upon this subject ; and, while some atternj)ted a feeble defence of it, (for the greatest talent must be weak, when it combats against reason and conscience,) others eloquently and forcibly delineated its folly and turpitude. If some were found to allow, many were forward to condemn, with just abhorrence, this infamous prac- tice. Among these, Socrates, Plato, and Cicero, those ])rincesoftlie ancient philosophers, were pre- eminent. The latter uses the remarkable expres- sion, that "it is as unlawful for a man to withdraw from life without the Divine permission, as for a soldier to quit his post without his general's orders." It has been said, that some eminent and good men, in modern times, have either attetnpted or perpetrated this crime. I believe none such can be adduced, except such as were evidently under the decided influence of mental derangement. But it has been maintained, that religion itself, or at least a certain class of religious tenets, has pro- duced a disorganization of intellect, which has either terminated fatally, or evinced a strong pro- pensity to self-destruction : and the name of the excellent and lamented Cowper has been often adduced as an example to make out this serious charge. Whoever has attended accurately and faithfully to facts, will discover, that this great man attempted suicide, before he felt the power, or even made any marked profession of religion : BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 151 and tills is most strikingly evident from the sketch of his early life, which he has left hehind him, as the prodnction of his own pen. No one can read this, his own testimony, without feeling satisfied, that in his attempts at suicide, he was under the powerful and immediate influence of that insanity which it is well known was with him constitution- al ; and which rendered it necessary in one in- stance to place him under restraint, and to the last hour of his life, required that he should be observ- ed with the most unslumbering vigilance. Reli- gion, or the class of religious sentiments which he adopted, had nothing more to do with it, than ev- ery prominent idea has to do with the mind of an insane person. No class of religious sentiments authorize suicide: yet he was perpetually torment- ed with the impression that he ought to perpetrate it. Every species of madness fixes upon some one great and prevailing point: and the man is fre- quently rational on every other subject, but as cer- tainly discovers the state of his mind when you touch that particular feeling. It is clear, also, that in cases of insanity, the thing to which the mind attaches the highest importance, will be probably the point of aberation. From Cowper's first per- manent religious impressions, religion was the bus- iness of his life ; the first, last, great, and only con- cern. Upon this subject, therefore, would the dis- ease most decidedly rest, and most distinctly disclose itself. The mind will also clothe the disease, whatever may be the subject, in its own 152 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. livery. The spirit of Cowper was gentle, and ten- der — mild and melancholy. He had a heart all susce{)tibility, and fraught with the purest affec- tions — but an imagination overshadowed with gloom. No wonder, independent of any j)arncular creed, which does not here, at least, appear char- geable with his malady, his religious impressions should be the reflex of his constitutional tendencies. Had his mind been of another order — more ardent, heroic, and imaginative, on the same subject he might — instead of shewing us a personal despair, without the slightest foundation in the principles which he adopted — have surrounded us with scenes of terror, judgment, and majesty, beyond all ordi- nary conception, as sublime as dreadful ; the effect of the same disordered fancy; as unreal, and as evidently foreign from the religious doctrines be- lieved, as were the milder and affecting despon- dencies of Cowper — in the same way borrowing their features from the spirit that conceived them. 1 have entered further into this instance than I should otherwise have done, because it is one which the enemies of certain religious sentiments delight to select, and to exhibit as the victitn of those sentiments : because other cases impartially examined, would terminate in a similar result ; and because the conclusion must be, in every candid judgment, that suicide, or attempts upon human life, have no countenance from any quarter that deserves to be considered either as wise or good — except insanity be the cause. BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 153 To return more immediately to the subject — tht cowardice of it ought to make the man blush, even if he relinquish the principles of the christian. He shrinks from a warfare, which others endure with heroic fortitude: he throws down his arms and quits the field, while others make a bold and suc- cessful stand against the enemy. Is this true no- bility of spirit? What! has the philosopher less energy, or more petulance, than others? That he has a quicker sensibility will not excuse him: for it is supposed to originate in the penetration and rationality of a stronger mind. After sophistry has made out the best case for the self-murderer, he that flies life is a coward : nor is this the whole ; to that personal shrinking, which a noble mind would disdain, is added a shameful consequence : the base retreat of the individual is accompanied by wrongs inflicted upon others, who are left to bear the burden. The father who destroys him- self, heaps the whole of that calamity, which his act confessed him unable to sustain, upon his wife and family. Are women and children, then, better qualified to support suffering than the man ? "O shame, where is thy blush ?" He is a coward indeed, who flies from an evil which he entails upon his fam- ily, and his relations; those also of the softer sex, and more tender age ; with the disgrace superadded of his ignominious retreat from life and its duties — a disgrace which will cleave to them in society, as well as haunt and afflict them in solitude- I can- 14 154 BEAUTIES OF COLLYEK. not lielp thinking that the suicide shows as little feeling as courage — as little affection to his family as regard to his God: it is a character so dastard- ly and selfish, that the only surprise is, it could ever find an advocate, or furnish an apology. The treason of it against the Divine sovereignty, already suggested, appears in various conclusive particulars. The prerogative of God, to fix the " bounds of our habitation," and appoint our time, is defied. The arrangements oi infinite wisdom, and paternal goodness, are arraigned and con- demned, by this unnatural act. The moral gov- ernment of Deity is disregarded and insulted. Whatever can be binding is broken : whatever is decent, becomes outraged. It is treason against JVa- ture, and her most powerful law, self-preservation. A law which determines at once the will of the Creator, and the duty of the creature — a law, the universality of which leaves its authority undoubt- ed ; and the sanctions of which cannot be slighted with injpunity. The meanest insect possesses it in common with man : it is, therefore, no prejudice of human education, but the wise and absolute en- actment of the Author of our being. Tl:e most insignificant aujong the ani(nate creation, are fruit- ful in expedients to preserve that life, without im- mortality suspended upon it, which the suicide dares to destroy, at the stake of his eternal exist- ence. It is treason against the social compact. So- ciety has claims upon the individual, from which he cannot be fairly absolved, without their con- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 153 sent: except by the dis[)ensations of Him, who hav- ing fonneJ the bonds at the beginning, has alone a right to loose them at his pleasure. The suicide extinguishes with his life, not only the affections due to his family, but the duties which he owes to his country, and his obligations to mankind at large. It is treason against the revealed will of God. His express command is, "Thou shalt do no nmr- der," and it bears no less upon the individual, than upon society : he is no less guilty, who lifts his hand against himself, than he who assassinates his neigh- bor. He is God's property, not his own — and God's law is absolute. In the spirit of this law, St. Paul arrested the arm of the Philippian jailer, when he had planted his sword at his heart, and said, "Do thyself no harm." Under its influence. Job de- clared, " All the days of my appointed time will I wait, until my change come." And, in conformity with it, are all the precepts of patience, resignation and submission — all the doctrines relative to the Divine sovereignty, providence, and paternity, with their respective rights — and all the examples of un- complaining suffering and heroic fortitude, placed before us in the Scriptures. We cannot, therefore, any Jonger doubt the guilt of the act, or the misery which it produces — a mis- ery the more certain, inasmuch as the offence af- fords no space for repentance or prayer — therefore no hope of pardon. It is often instantaneous; and, in the moment of the commission of the crime, 156 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. the spirit appears before the judgment-seat, to an- swer for it. Far be it from me, to limit the Divine mercy : or to say, after the act, if a few lingering hours, or even moments, are granted, what con- trition may be wrought in the soul, or what com- passion may be exercised by the Deity. But in the sudden departure, even this slender hope is cut off: for he has said that the state in which a man actually dies, is unalterable: "the unjust must be unjust still ; and the filthy, filthy still ;" and if the man die in the act of rebellion, is it possible that he should be treated upon any other principle than that of a rebel? SINS OF THE TONGUE. The most degrading and ofifensive vice of the tongue IS profanity. It is absolutely without apol- ogy, and it is inseparable from infamy. The high- est rank cannot palliate, the lowest cannot excuse it. It prevails, alas! among all ranks, and to a degree among both sexes, I am not now speaking of that contempt and defiance which the tongue of the infidel sometimes pours forth against the Foun- tain of his being, and the prescriptions of his word; but of that most horrible habit of swearing, or taking the name of God in vain, which affords neither pleasure nor profit, while it violates what- ever is sacred, and tramples under foot a positive command — "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain ; for the Lord will not hold BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 157 him guiltles3.that taketh his name in vain." That the liigher classes in society should indulge in this degrading vice is most astonishing. The great line of distinction between them and the lower classes, is proprietyof language : this marks, more strongly than any other circumstance, superioiity of educa- tion, culture of mind, and select associations. This distinction they voluntarily abandon, and descend to the vulgar dialect, and dreadful oaths of the un- instructed and the low, for no possible gratification. And even the softer sex, who would shrink from the broad and profane oath, are nevertheless ha- bitually guilty, especially among the higher ranks, and but too universally, of using the name of their Maker with levity, upon every frivolous oc- casion. " Shall I not visit for these things, saith the Lord?" Are we to suppose that he has given a commandment without sanctions? or that he will pass over the breach of it? He has said, " for swearing shall the land mourn" — and will he not effect his declaration ? " Heaven and earth shall pass away, but his word shall not pass away." How frequently has he cut off the profane in the midst of their sin! and what other dreadful in- stances of wrath do we wait for, before our boys and our females, our rulers, and our popula- tion, will learn to lay aside this shocking, this dis- gusting, this impious practice, and listen to the warning voice, " Swear not at all?" Impurity of speech, emphatically called in the word of God " corrupt communication," and " fil- 158 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER tliiness," is absolutely to be laid aside, as it is most decidedly sentenced and forbidden. "For this know, that no unclean person hath any inheritance in the kingdom of God, and of Christ. Let no man deceive you with vain words; for because of these things Cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience. Be not ye, therefore, partakers with them." Such is the precept — and a little at- tention to the context will satisfy any inquirer* that the allusion is partly to sensual conduct, but directly to impurity of language, as leading to it by inflaming the passions, and as most odious in it- self. The image is exceedingly forcible, and rep- resents it as a moral putrefaction, tainting the lips over which it passes. That must be a bad taste which can relish, as well as an unclean heart which conceives it. It is a miserable substitute for sense and wit; and a powerful engine of depravity. It is a leprosy of the spirit which shews itself on the tongue. The holy Being, who is of purer eyes than to look upon iniquity, turns from it with abhorrence ; and charges all who profess and call themselves christians — " Let no corrupt couimunication pro- ceed out of your mouth." Falsehood is an abuse of the tongue which has called forth the most tremendous denunciations* God's own title is, " The Lord God of Truth ;" opposed to which is the ap[)ellation of that evil spirit, the enemy of God, of man, and of goodness, who is termed, "the father of lies." "Lying lips BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 159 are an abomination to the Lord." " A lying tongue is but for a moment." "What shall be given unto thee, or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue ?" " All liars shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone ; which is the second death." This is a vice, therefore, most abhorrent to the nature of Deity ; and which shall be assuredly visited with his severest indig- nation. Nor can we be astonished at this, when we turn from the consideration of the divine char- acter to contemplate its action upon society: the very foundations of which are removed in the de- struction of individual confidence. Speech is so far from being a blessing, that in this case it scat- ters wide and unsparingly the seeds of suspicion, alienation, and ruin. Every species of insincerity, practised by ourselves, or encouraged in others, falls under the censure: for they are numbered among the enemies of God and of all goodness, who/' flatter with their tongue." Slander is a vice of the tongue of the most per- nicious quality. Next to inventing falsehood of another, is the crime of admitting it without scru- ple, and giving it circulation. Some persons seem to live for no other {)urpose than either " to tell or to hear some new thing :" but, from a moral obliq- uity, they can see nothing amiable in another, hear nothing favorable, and tell nothing honourable. They visit, conv^erse, I had almost said, worship, for no other end : and the very sanctuary becomes 160 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. sometimes, and with some professors, the mart where reputations are bartered, and the altar on which character is sacrificed by looks, by whispers, by insinuations. An adjournment from the pew to the tea-table removes all restraint from the tongue, and gives all scope to the rancorous prin- ciple. Those also w^ho will not lie, will defame. If they shrink from calumny, they have skill at detrac- tion : and effect as much in depreciation of char- acter, as others in a more direct attack upon it. Such employment of the tongue is odious in all men — most inexcusable in professors — but detestable beyond all reach of censure in ministers. The wick- ed, whom God repels from his altar, are charged with this gross offence. "Thou givest thy moulh to evil, and thy tongue frameth deceit. Thou sittest and speakest against thy brother — thou slanderest thine own mother's son." Allied with this is the spirit of intermeddling with the affairs of others, and the never-resting and poi- sonous tongue of the tale-hearer, "Withal they learn to be idle, wandering about from house to house ; and not only idle, but tattlers also, and busy- bodies, speaking things which they ought not." It is astonishing the mischief that one such person will do in a family, a church, a neighbourhood ; and if he be a political meddler, in a country. Provocation and violence are among the offences of ihe tongue. Oh, what fatal effects might iiave been avoided, in many a desolated family, if its BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 161 inmates had respectively learned the great lesson taught by the wise man—" A soft answer turneth away wrath." The husband might have won his wife, the wife retained her husband; the master might have governed and reformed his servant, and the servant have learned to reverence his mas- ter; the child would not have been provoked to an- ger, and would havo repaid in the homage of affec- tion, more filial reverence than could be command- ed by fear, and extorted by force. But the licentious- ness of the tongue causes a breach that cannot be closed ; and its tauntings on every side inflict a wound that cannot be healed. Like the barbed ar- row, it breaks when it is solicited, and can never be extracted. Levity appears a venial offence, but it may have a disastrous issue. Trifles in themselves become of serious consequence in their results. Light- ness of speech has sometimes terminated fatally. An unguarded expression has led to murder: a sarcasm has implanted in the offended bosom im- placable hatred: and general levity of speech both indicates a trifling spirit, and induces pernicious effects upon the moral feeling. It is worthy re- mark, in what a dark association the apostle places habitual jesting. "Fornication and all unclean- ness, or covetousness, let it not once be named among you, asbecometh saints. Neither filthiness*' — impure conversation — "nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient." He that ac- 362 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. customs himself to habitual levity of speech, en- courages a licentiousness of spirit, which will ren- der him familiar with evil: and may, by degrees, initiate him into the darkest mysteries of practical impurity. GOD'S LAW THE ONLY TRUE STANDARD OF MORALS. Moralshaxe been a subject of anxious inquiry in all ages. They include the duties which wo owe to God, to ourselves, and to each other, arising out of the constitution of our nature, our mutual rela- tions, and the intellectual energies of our being. I have, therefore, unhesitatingly called them Duties — and because our object is to inquire after the moral obligations enforced in the Bible — they are distinguished as Scripture Duties. This isnow^ distinctly stated to escape the necessity of future remark — and to point out clearly, the track which is to be followed. The ancients distributed morals into three clas- ses : as affecting the individual — family-relations — and jurisprudence. The first they denominated Ethics — the second. Economics— the third. Politics. The term, Ethics, was also a general term ; be- cause the individual cannot stand alone — he must be necessarily connected with society, from its centre to its circumference : he is himself the cen^ BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 163 tre, to himself, and as it regards iiis personal ob- ligations, of the entire circle; and that which af- fected himself more immediately, became, there- fore, generally applied to the whole. The term. Ethics, signifying manners, or the per- sonal deportment of the individual, especially to- wards others, insinuated the influence of the inter- nal moral principle upon the habits and conduct of its possessor. The relation of man to his Crea- tor being demonstrated by the very evidence which led him to the conclusion that there is a God, and obviously inseparable from this earliest concession of the human mind to the existence of a First Cause — and his connexion with his fellow men being as clearly manifested in the organiza- tion of society, and the state of constant depen- dence upon others, of which he cannot but be con- scious, from his inflincy to his last breath— an in- quiry after his corresponding duties, became one of the most-important subjects which could occu- py his attention. He gathered his impressions relative to his moral obligations, as well as he could, from the scattered intimations of their char- acter around him, and within him. He deduced them from the harmonies of the visible creation — the varied forms of society— the constitution of his own nature — the testimony of his conscience — and, still more largely, from traditions every where prevailing, although none could trace them to their origin— and making their way by their adaptation to society, their appeals to the judg- 164 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. ment of the individual, and their agreement with the universal system of being- We find, therefore, the wisest of men, in the earliest ages of the history of philosophy, through- out the heathen world, diligently occupied in col- lecting these moral principles, and in enforcing their obligation upon others. At first, their in- structions were scattered and proverbial. A sin- gle moral sentiment was conveyed, in a senten- tious style, as distinguished for its point as for its brevity, that it might be alike felt and remember- ed. Then followed another detached maxim — important in itself— but having no connexion with that which preceded. After a time it was found necessary to combine these, that they might gath- er strength from association ; and to enter more into the detail of their nature and their reasons, that the hidden wisdom of the sage might be ex- hibited in a form accessible to public apprehension. To render the principle still more attractive, it was presented in the most popular shape in which it could be clothed — the appeal was made to the eye as well as to the ear — to the external forms of material being, as well as to the intellectual facul- ties of the mind — to the familiar observations of common life, as well as to the power of thought — to the imagination, as well as to the understand- ing. Circumstances were invented to show the true character of such as existed — and the visible creation furnished illustrations of abstract princi- ples suggested to the mind : moral truths were BEAUTIES OF COLLY ER. 165 thus conveyed to the heart, through the medium of parables. The maxims of the seven celebrated Grecian sages furnish an example of the proverbial mode of moral instruction, and the method adopted by Pythagoras elucidates the parabolic. In the meanwhile genius and philosophy ad- vanced — assumed a systematic shape — were every day making new discoveries, and diligently laying down fixed laws to regulate and facilitate their ar- dent inquiries: but the greatest of men were con- tented to distribute general maxims of moral obli- gation, in loose and unconnected forms, until that luminary arose in Greece, before whom all con- temporary lights " hid their diminished heads." Socrates considered morals as at once the fountain and the end of true philosophy. To the cultivation of these he directed exclusively all his mighty pow- ers. He collected whatever others had suggested, and supplied from the treasures of his own genius what appeared defective. To find out the spring of moral duty — to apply its principles to all the re- lations of life, and to enforce its obligations, en- gaged all his attention. The first he did not fail to trace to the Deity— the latter he delineated with the powerful hand of a master : but when he con- templated his own grand outline, he discovered how much remained to fill it up, which surpassed even his matchless powers — and confessed the ne- cessity of that, for which we this day contend — a revealed Standard of Morals, 166 J3EAUT1ES OF COLLYER. After the vices and superstitions of the age in which he lived had hurried this great man out of the world, his labours did not die with him. He wrote notliing; but his disciples, Plato and Xeno- phon, recorded the vi'ords which fell from his lips — and with great fidelity preserved to posterity his principles, while they often decorated his simple language with their own eloquence. Morals now began to be regarded as a system ; and became, what Socrates had feared^ and cautioned his fol- lowers against, but too much matters of mere spec- ulation. Lost in the mazes of metaphysical disqui- sitions, men were more anxious to exhibit and de- fend the subtilties of their own definitions and dis- tinctions, than to chalk out a plain path for plain men ; and to argue upon the origin of moral prin- ciples, than to enforce their eternal obligation. The writers upon this important subject multi- plied — and each allowing the existence of moral principle, accounted in various ways for its origin, applying to it standards no less diversified. Some founded it upon sympathy — the harmony of mind with mind, and of circumstances with circumstan- ces. Some upon symmetry — the adjustment of the parts to the whole — suggesting what is beautiful, fit, and proper. Some upon utility — measuring the moral quality by that which was best suited to so- ciety — and resolving the question finally into the dangerous principle oi' expediency. Others referr- ed to a moral sense — out of which some of the for- mer speculations arose. Others traced the origin BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 167 of morals in re/a^ion— appealed for their regulation and evidence to conscience— or vathcv consciousness — conscience being not a separate faculty of the mind, nor an additional sense— but a law incident to all the faculties, and impressed by the wisdom that fornied us, upon our entire moral constitution. These adduced i\\m\\y responsibility to enforce the observance of moral duties, which they traced from the Deity, as their author, again to the Deity, as their end. From our relation to him arose the obligation— and to him must be the responsibility of a relation, which, once admitted, can never be dis- solved. And thus, after wandering over the spec- ulations of the human mind, relative to the origin of duties which cannot be denied — we rest at last upon the will of God as the basis of all true morality, and the grand rule of all moral duty. All other imagined bases are defective. Neither reason, nor conscience, could trace distinctly the princi|.'le, or guide unerringly its application. Even the voice of nature has ceased to be heard amidst the clamours of superstition — and her instinctive affections have been sacrificed to her fears. " She has given her first-born for her transgression, the fruit of her body for the sin of her soul." Custom has extinguished her tenderness; and with re- morseless cruelty she has been known to expose the new-born infant to death, or to become her- self its murderer- Conscience has yielded to hab- it and to interest. It is capable of cultivation : it is also capable of becoming demoralized. It may be 168 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. rendered callous — it may be silenced — it may be perverted — it may be darkened, as well as defiled. And in vain shall we then watch for the impulses of sympathy, or hope to perceive moral symmetry : — the beauty of virtue will not attract — the deform- ity of vice will not terrify — we dare not trust the actions of such a man to the influence of the har- monies of society — or confide to him the decision of what is generally useful. He will sacrifice all utility to expediency, and find it expedient to se- cure his own interest, or that which he considers such, at the expense of the interests of others ; his heart will grow cold, selfish, and contracted, and morals will be dried up in their bosom-spring. Dr. Paley, who so unhappily, at least in my judg- ment, introduced the dangerous doctrine of expe- diency, into his masterly system of Moral Philos- ophy, finds at last no rest for the sole of his foot, but in the will of God, and reposes safely his moral system there. PROFHECSr. THE BIBLE, A CLASSIC; Imagine to ^rourselves a number of men with minds divested of prejudice, opening the sacred volume, to read it with care and with attention. Such is its variety, and such its beauty, that it will interest each of them in his own peculiar way : but to some it will appear infinitely more impor_ BEAUTIES OF COLLTER. 169 tant than to others. The Scholar will find in it some of the #iiost sublime specimens of eastern composition. The Antiquarian will prize pre- cious fragments, snatched from the destroying liand of time, rescued from barbarous pillage, sur- viving the ruins of empires, and transmitted to the present age, while a thousand other works of later date have been consigned to oblivion. Tiie Poet will meet here bold and striking images, vivid and impressive figures of speech, lofty and magnificent descriptions, which he may look for in vain among the first of the Greek and Roman classics. Here the Speculatist may discern the most curious and sublime truths brought down to the standard of the plainest understanding ; a system elevated beyond the utmost stretch of human comprehen- sion, finding its way to the human heart: myste- rious anfl unsearchable points rendered familiar and intelligible : a wide and inviting field opened for the exertion of every mental faculty. The MAN OF taste anh OF FEELING, will be gratified by the exhibition which is made of manly eloquence, of exquisite sensibility, of unaffected sentiment, of true refinement. The Lover of History will discover authentic records of the most remote and the most interesting events, written with a noble simplicity, and possessing the utmost perspicuity. Departed generations are recalled and return, with their manners and customs. The hves and char- acters of the great and the good are drawn with fidelity and with impartiality. Sometimes he will 15 170 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. be presented with the biography of individuals. He will see a great mind encounteriiij^- a variety of circumstances, struggling with adversity, or with- standing the more dangerous insinuations of pros- perity. In every scene he will be able to pierce his very bosom ; and in life or in death, the reces- ses of his heart are alike laid open. Every sphere of human life is accessible ; and the Prince, the Lawgiver, and the Shepherd, present themselves in their turn. Sometimes he will be surrounded by dojjies lie scenes ', and will sit down in the bosom of a family. He will witness their divisions and their reconciliations, their failings, and their excel- lencies, their joys and their sufferings — in a word, he will become one of them. Sometimes the con- cerns of a nation will burst upon his imagination. He will be made acquainted with the sources of dominion, the windings of power, and the hidden springs of national decay. Thus also the States- man wdl be interested. He may learn many a lesson of wisdom, and draw many a wholesome truth, from these pages. The best and wisest leg- islators have made the code of laws relating both to government and morality, contained in this vol- ume, the standard by which their own constitution has been framed: nor have they deviated from this model without manifest disadvantage ; ex- cept indeed when the unavoidable changes of cus- toms and of manners, and the dissimilarity of countries and of climes, have required alterations. To the Philosopher the secret springs of the BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 171 human heart will be laid open. An acquaintance with men and things, beyond the sphere of human investigation, is displayed here. The movements of the mind, the influence of the passions, every rude and every tender emotion, is uncovered be- fore him and submitted to his penetration. Those THAT ADMIRE THE MARVELLOUS may alsO haVC their taste gratified, and that not at the expense of truth. Unparalleled wonders are narrated. They bear no marks of fiction : but they carry irresis- tible features of veracity. They are related with simplicity ; and are confirmed abundantly by in- ternal, and by external evidences. We are pro- ducing in their order some of the singular events which abound here. There are both miracles and prophecies: and, to impress the heart the more, the reader is /n*M5e(/*interested in them. But what are the emotions with which the different charac- ters, whom we have enumerated, will consult this volume, to the feelings with which the Christ- lAX will read it? Their taste is gratified ; but his wants are supplied. Their imagination is fired, and their judgment is informed ; but his heart ie warmed, and his mind is relieved. To them the throne of God may be a seat of terror ; to him it is a throne of grace. A mind at ease seeks enter- tainment ; a wounded spirit pants for repose. The one may consult this volume from curiosity, or, at best, for instruction ; the other will read it for his life — his present ])eace, and his future happiness, alike depend upon what he finds here. It is with 172 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. the feelings, the views, and the advantage of this last character, that we earnestly desire you should examine the Scriptures. CLOSE OF LIFE. The closing scenes of every man's life are aw- ful and impressive. When we stand by the side of a dying bed, lessons which are feebly conceived, and wholly disregarded at another time, are taught to perfection, and force their way to the heart in defiance of human levity. Here we see the man resigning the several perfections which once ela- ted him with pride, and laying down his boasted excellencies. Here the strong man is deprived of his strength, and the rich man is stripped of his riches. This is the end of all flesh. The attain- ments of the scholar, and the wisdom of the wise, cease with the breath departing from the nos- trils. The career of glory terminates in the vale of mortality: its lustre is extinguished in the shad- ow of death : and the hero yields to a stronger arm than his own. Here the dreams of a youthful im- agination are broken, and the delusive enchant- ments of life vanish. Here the great and the gay discover how worthless, and how inconsiderable is the sum total ofearthly good : and a true estimate of the present transitory existence is given. " It is better to go into the house of mourning, than to go into the house of feasting :" because the one BEAUTIES OF CX)LLYER. 173 strengthens the deceptions of time, and the other dissolves them. Let your hearts he serious this night : for that most interesting and useful of all scenes is painted before you in solemn colours — the close of a great and useful life. There is a mournful gratification in the melan- choly duty of following our departed friends to their last earthly retreat — the grave. It is in obe- dience to the voice of nature issuing from their very sepulchres, to which also our own hearts are responsive, that we go and see where they have laid them. Fashion has suppressed these strong emotions, and countermanded at once the impulse of nature, the voice of religion, and the custom of thousands of successive generations. When Abrahatn was to be laid in the grave, the office de- volved upon his two sons, Isaac and IshmaeL Ris- pah is found watching the bodies of her slaughter- ed children by day and by night, till her interposi- tion ceased only because it became useless through the resistless and consuming hand of time. The sisters of Lazarus were not afraid of the grave of their brother. The mother of Jesus had as fine and as acute Teelings ast the high-born and the high-bred females, who from excess of affectation (for it is not sensibility) abandon their dwelling the moment death enters it : yet she was found at the foot of the cross, and did not shrink from the scene of trial, while there remained a single maternal duty to fulfil. The family of Jacob are also seen col- lected around his couch , listening to his words, 174 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. and watching his countenance, till the scene is closed by death. The voice of God calling away the spirit from its present habitation, sounds in the ears of one man as the death-warrant of all his hopes, all his pleasures, all his schemes, all his peace : to anoth- er it will be the pledge of deliverance, the shout of triumph, the seal of immortality. When it is said — "' the hour is come" — one man shudders ; horror and dismay thrill through all his soul ; the blood curdles in his veins ; he sickens with appre- hension ; another feels exultation quicken the pal- pitations of his heart ; joy sparkles in his eyes ; expectation sits upon his countenance ; hope springs forward on the wings of triumphant antic- ipation. One man says, 'Behold I die ! — Farewell, my possessions and my honours! Farewell, my my children and servants ! Farewell, my hopes and my schemes, my pleasures and my felicity ! How terrible, O Death, is thy approach, and how dread- ful are thy consequences ! This world fades from my eyes, and how fearful are the features of eter- nity ! I am leaving my gods, and there is none to deliver ! I see before mo the bar of Jesus Christ ; but who may abide the day of his coming, and who shall stand when he appeareth ? I have refused his friendship; andean I expect his smile? I have slighted his love ; and can I receive his approbation ? I have consented to live without him, and now he leaves me to die without him — O for a shelter from his indignation 1' — Another looks with a calm and BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 175 bright eye upon the grave, and says, ' I must short- ly put off this tabernacle ! Welcome, death ; wel- couje, glory ! Farewell, years of misery and of sin ! Farewell, world of sorrow and of vanity ! Farewell, for a season, my companions in tribulation ! I go to my Father and to your Father ; to my God and to your God. Hail, ye scenes of approaching and unfading felicity. Hail, death, the messenger of peace, the herald of immortality — " Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life !" Thus differently do men think, and speak, and feel upon the same subject: but these different views of death must arise from opposite principles; and there doubtless exists a powerful reason why he is to one man "the king of terrors," and to another " an angel of light." It is in connection with the sufferings and the atonement of our blessed Lord alone, that death loses his sting. "Forasmuch as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same ; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil ; and deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage." DEATIi OF JACOB. There are certain great principles in our nature which discover themselves in the very article of death ; and among these is the well-known pro- 176 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. pensity which we feel to be anxious respecting the rites of sepulture. We are not satisfied with hav- ing enjoyed the converse of those wiiom we loved while they were yet alive, but we wish to repose by them when dead. ]t is our last desire that our bones should lie by their bones; and that our dust should mingle with their dust. It is the last earth- ly thing that occupies our attention. Thus was it with Jacob : and that he regarded it with no com- mon solicitude, is evident from the reiterated charge, and from the particular description of the spot again and again repeated. Recognize in the dying patriarch your own feehngs, and learn that he is "flesh of your flesh." See, how strongly na- ture lives with him ! He has done with the things of time. They attract, they torment him no more. His earthly career hastens to a close. He is breath- ing the last sigh. One thought, and only one is stolen from heaven, and it hovers over the dust of his departed family. Lay the map of the world be- fore him — he regards not its empires — his eye glides over them, in search of anotiier object, it fix- es upon a little obscure field, and there he buries his remaining earthly wishes. Remove that spot, and the whole globe is nothing to him: it excites no interest, it retains no further tie upon him. There his last reflections linger, till they are recall- ed to the skies. " There," said he, " they buried Abraham, and Sarah his wife ; there they buried Isaac, and Rebekah his wife ; and there I buried Leah." With feelings something akin to thesei BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 177 the Christian sends his thoughts to Calvary, and his affections hnger upon the sacred mount with mournful delight, while he reflects, "There they crucified him." But the bonds of nature could no longer hold a spirit so prepared for heaven. The last wish was expressed ; the last struggle was felt ; and he fled to enjoy the immediate presence of God, and to join the society of those, whom, living, he loved, and dying, he fondly remembered! — "Let me die the death of the righteous; and let my last end be like his." THE BAD MAN IN SOLITUDE. It is night. The sun enlightens another hemis- phere. The moon leads forth the hosts of heav- en : her beams tremble on the water ; and her testimony to the power and wisdom of God is giv- en in silence. All nature sleeps. The murmur of merchandise ceases. The noise of business, and the voice of riot,' are hushed. The gates of the city are closed. Man has resigned his cares and his pleasures to temporary oblivion : his senses are locked up in repose : and the image of death is impressed on his countenance. All sleep, but the wicked prophet. Avarice permits him not to close his eyes: or if slumber surprise him, it cannot sooth him into forgetfulness. His imagination is at work upon the materials of the day. He sees 16 178 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. the princes of Moab again opening their treasures, and pouring them forth at his feet. He is trans- ported to the court of the monarch himself, and re- ceives robes of distinction, and titles of dignity. He grasps the gold which he pursues; and curses the people against whom he is employed- But while his fancy is thus engaged, a voice is heard which chases these visions, which agitates and oppresses him, which raises his hair with terror, and rouses him from his guilty dreams. It is the voice of God : and it addresses him in terms of au- thority which will admit no subterfuges. "And God said, v/hat men are these with thee ?" O wretched man, thine enemy hath found thee ! and he asks not for information, but to condemn thee out of thine own mouth ! Unable to deceive, he is compelled to declare all, and the truth is circum- stantially related. That which he pretended to the embassy of Moab and Midian to seek, he finds un- sought and undesired. The will of God is an- nounced to him, in a positive prohibition — "Thou shalt 7iot go ! — " This sentence disperses all his anticipations of distinction, and all his iiopes of gain. We may easily imagine with what feelings he would pass the remainder of the night. After such a visit darkness and solitude would be terrible to him : repose was impossible : and he would wish with impatience to see the "eyelids of the morn- ing" unclose. But the first ray of light that ap- peared would renew his anguish ; and the neces- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 179 sity of aTinoimcing his disaj)pointment cover him ■with confusion. So soon as it was day he dismiss- ed the messengers to bear an account of the di- vine prohibition to their master. As they only said to the King, "Balaam refuseth to come with us," it was natural that he should conclude from the comjilexion of the enchanter's character, that he did not think the proposals of Balak sufficiently liberal. Under this impression a second embas- sy was dispatched, composed of persons yet more noble, with a message couched in terms still more urgent, and with an unlimited prospect of recom- pense. He was solicited to name his own condi- tions ; and tlie king said by his messengers, "I will do whatsoever thou sayest unto me." Flattering terms I — but the recollection of the night-vision still haunts the conscience of Bjilaam. For a moment, a purer principle than that which was the grand spring of his usual operations, ac- quires the ascendency; and he said, "If Balak would give me his house full of silver and gold, I cannot go beyond the word of the Lord my God, to do less or more." Happy had it been for him, if this principle had continued to prevail; if his intercourse with the enemies of God had here ceased; and if the love of money had perished un- der the conviction of his allegiance to his Maker. But the impression was momentary. The balance had all along leaned on the side of the world : the finger of God touched it, and the scale preponde- 180 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. rated for the instant in favour of heaven ; but no sooner was the propelling force withdrawn, than the beam turned, and it fell back to its original de- clination. Well has it been said, " the love of money is the root ot all evil." Every law is broken, every duty neglected, every sacred obliga- tion violated, to gratify its insatiable cravings. Other vices are temporary — the strongest passions are controlled, subdued, and destroyed by time. Other sins are [limited to certain seasons of life, and frequently lose their force and influence as the man grows older. The fire which consumes the young, has a boundary placed to its raging, and is extinguished by age. Follies become corrected by experience : and wisdom is taught by the " multi- tude of days." But avarice cleaves closer to the heart as years advance: its influence is increased by time: it lives amid the snows of life, when ev- ery emotion besides itself is frozen ; and it quick- ens the pulsations of a heart dead to every other passion. The canker that devoured the strength of the youth, and chased the bloom of his cheek, eats into the tranquilUty of age, and adds wrinkles of care to the traces drawn upon the countenance by the hand of time. Again the heart of Balaam gives way; and he tampers with temptation till it destroys him. The positive prohibition which he had received is neg- lected ; and he vainly hopes a repeal of the divine commandment. Night returns : the sun is faith- ful to his going down ; and the very advances of BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 181 the evening ought to have been a check to " the madness of the prophet." Deaf as he was to the still voice of nature, declaring the divine immuta- bility ! could he hope a revolution in his purpose who gives the day and the night in remembrance of a promise once pronounced ? But avarice ap- pears in this instance to have veiled even his un- derstanding. A second visit from God, however, grants him permission to go! But, what a per- mission! the prohibition was an act of friendship^: thepermission'is an act of indignation. The pro- hibition was evidently conducive to his safety : the permission is as evidently given him at his peril. It resembles the ease allowed to Ephraim — "He is joined to idols, " /e^ him alone." Balaam is found perverse, and he is given over to his own heart's lusts. The spirit of the language is — "Go — and take the consequences ; but although you carry your point here — I will yet be obeyed — 'the word which I shall say unto thee, that shalt thou do.' " Chasten me, O God, according to thy wisdom : control my passions, and refuse my desires, when- ever they displease thee, and in whatever way shall seem good in thy sight — but never curse me with such a permission, nor resign me to the do- minion of my own devices. Behold him eager to set out on this perilous journey. He rises early in the morning ; and ex- hibits an alacrity seldom manifested by those who profess to obey nobler principles. The princes of Moab advance before him to apprize the king of 182 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. the success of their mission, and to prepare the court for his approach. Balaam is left to pursue his way unattended, except by his two servants — is left to solitude and meditation. I do not envy him his situation. Retirement is desirable only when a man is in alliance with Heaven, and at peace with his own conscience. PROPHECY DEPENDENT ON PROVIDENCE FOR ILLUSTRATION. With respect to providence, we know that the" ways of God are perfect, but our comprehension of them is limited. It is yet night with us, and will continue so till we quit the present state of be- ing. Our brightest moments, are but as the dawn of the morning, when cloud and mist rest upon the landscape, and every object seen at all, is dis- cerned only darkly and uncertainly. Man is act- ing irrationally when he attempts to bring down all the operations of an, infinite mind to his stand- ard. All that he comprehends of the plans of God, is harmonious and wise ; his conclusion ought to be, when he no longer comprehends them perfect- ly, that the defect is in himself and not in the thing contemplated : but unhappily the pride of his heart leads him to another and a false conclusion that what his limited capacity cannot comprehend, is in itself incomprehensible. The fact only is, that it is so to /lim: but this involves nothing respect- ing the thing itself, and proves nothing except that BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 183 it is of a higher order than his own. The same thing may be remarked with respect \.o j)ropliecy. Some parts of the predictions before ns, are a htlle oljscure in themselves, and are made more so by- commentators. Every man conjectures, if he can do nothing else: and thus hypothesis is heaped upon hypothesis, because the interpreter will aim at originality, till amidst much learning and ingenu- ity, the very existence and purport of the text van- ish out of sight. In the few verses which remain to be considered, we shall not follow expositors through all their intricacies, but at once shew what appears to us the natural direction of the words. ^Vhere we cannot trace the fulfilment ofthem, we shall confess our inability, entreating you to keep in mind what we have now promised. Prophecy must be explained by Providence, to be clearly understood. When, therefore, it relates to remote events the very remembrance of which has per- ished, and to transactions the record of which is lost, the prediction of necessity becomes obscure: we have no longer the medium through which it might be interpreted : the defect is not in the pre- diction wjilch clearly related to positive events; but in the absence of the history which could have rendered it luminous. Having established this, we j^rant nothing to infidelity, in granting that the jyrediction ?V obscure ; since it is 71 of so in itself, but appears so to us, because of the scantiness of our information on the subjects to which it refers. We shall therefore never shrink from confessing 184 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. that we do not perceive its meaning, where we cannot trace its relation to events connected with it, but wliich the hand oftime has blotted out from the records of this world. CHARACTER OF BALAAM IMPROVED. He had sacrificed to the king of Moab, his con- science, his integrity, his peace of mind, and his future liappiness : yet because he could not sacri- fice Israel also (which in truth Balak knew he would willingly have done had not a stronger arm restrained him) he was sent home in disgrace, proscribed as an offender, and urged to flee on peril of stronger evidences of indignation on part of the offended monarch. Not only was he thus dismissed, unrewarded and insulted : but his em- ployer aggravated his cruel disappointment, by taunting him with what he designed to have done for him. O my friend ! if indeed you are wasting your best days, and sacrificing your noblest pow- ers in the service of the world and of sin — turn again and look once more at Balaam, with melan- choly steps retracing his journey back to the moun- tains of the east, unattended and unhonoured ! Not such a return had he anticipated, when he set out accompanied by the princes of Moab, with the promise of a reward as boundless as his ambition I See then the picture of your own destination ! In the evening of life, when you expect from the BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 185 world the promised recompense; you will be left to lay your hoary head ujjon a pillow of thorns; and find too late, that "the wages of sin is deatli ;" and that the smiles of the world are destruction. Descending into the vale of years, you shall "look for peace, but find despair, companion of your way !" Balaam is now no more ! He is as though he bad never been, so far as himself is concerned! What does it now avail him, that the renown of his talents reached the court of Moab, fiom the re- tirement of the mountains of the East? What does it avail hini, that a monarch sought his assistance, and that a king became a suppliant to him ? And who, or what, is Balak? All his wealth bestowed upon the unhappy man who preferred his friend- ship to the friendship of God, had he kept his prom- ise to its widest extent, could not now compensate the wretched but illustrious prophet of Mesopota- mia ! His honours — his riches — have perished with him : his guilt— his infamy remain forever! So shall perish all thine enemies, O Lord ! Chris- tian, do not envy them their transient renown. Hold on thy way, through the lowly, sequestered vale of life rejoicing ! Advance softly and silently — obscure and unnoticed to heaven! There is thy life, thy renown, thy record, thy recompense ! The sword of justice quivers over the head of guilty greatness. God says, to them in the very midst of their hopes — "Return, ye children of men" — and see! their countenances change, and they 186 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. "go to their place." The voice of mortality also addresses you : but the voice of Jesus mingles with the notes of death. He calls you home. "Arise," he says, " enter into the joy of thy Lord !" GOD, THE SUPREME RULER. National judgments are the punishment of na- tional sins : and in the history of empires we see still present retributions, of so awful and impres- sive a nature, as to silence, in an hour of calm re- flection, the doubts which scepticism has laboured to raise, respecting the superintendance of provi- dence, and which extort from the lip of conviction, "Verily there is a God that ruleth in the earth." In the desolations which lay waste the fairest parts of the globe, we are sometimes compelled to see the hand of God lifted up: but who lays these things to heart? Man always is prone to stop short at second causes. He seldom regards more than tlie instrument. He is satisfied with deplor- ing the effect. We are carried beyond these infe- rior considerations in the passage before us. When it represents an enemy thundering at the gates of Jerusalem, it does not say, tliat they were attracted by the wealth, or envious of the greatness, of the Jews: that they came to punish acts of cruel ag- gression, or the infringement of treaties: that the thirst of insatiable ambition prevailed, even when no such provocations were given: because al- BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 187 though all these were causes, they were only sub- ordinate. Sin made God the enemy of the nation^. And although the invading adversaries were their immediate scourge, they were only instrumental. The Agent is far superior. The favor of God is the defence of a country: not their monarchs and counsellors: not their treaties and alliances: not their chariots and horses : not their fortifications and navies— these are usually the 7nca?i5 employed to support the existence and the prosperity of a country — but security rises from an higher source, and is preserved by divine and constant superin- tendance. WHAT THINK YE OF CHRIST ? The Jews rejected, but do you receive him .^ The prophets call him the desire of all nations ; and in himself he is an object infinitely desirable. What are the traits of character which you have been accustomed to admire and love ? Are they those which alone stamp dignity upon human na- ture, and best distinguish man from the brute cre- ation? Are tliey those emanations of Deity which sin extinguished at the fall, and which the transac- tions of Calvary restored in all their former excel- lence — in all their pristine beauty — in all their pri- meval splendour — in all their ancient grandeur and majesty ? Do you indeed venerate purity of char- acter, benevolence of life, holiness ofconversation, tenderness of heart? Ah, see them most conspic- 188 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. uous, most pre-eminent, most permanent, in the object now presented to your contemplation. Is your heart formed for friendship ? Are you cast in the mould of social affections? Do you love the domestic circle ? Do you prize above the world's wealth, a faithful bosom upon which you may repose your head : a faithful ear into which you may pour your feelings: a faithful heart, which will throb with your anxieties, and exult in your joys? Behold here, "a friend that loveth at all times — a brother born for adversity — a friend that sticketh closer than a brother;" and "in all our afflictions he was afflicted." ''He in the days of feeble flesh, Pour'd out his cries and tears; And in his measure feels afresh What every member bears !" Are you a sinner overwhelmed with the sad conviction of guilt and of misery ? Is it all fear without and conflict within? Does your con- science testify against you, and your heart con- demn you ? Does the sentence of impartial justice against all transgression roll in thunder over your head? Look up, trembling spirit! The voice of Jesus can hush this tempest. The smiles of his face will disperse these threatening clouds. Tran- quillity shall break through them, and shine once more upon thy troubled heart. Hope, and faith, and joy, shall supplant fear, and unbelief, and an- guish when he says, " Go in peace, thy sins are forgiven thee !" BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 189 EVERY THING CONNECTED WITH THIS WORLD IS LOCAL AND TEMPORARY. Every thing connected with this world is local and temporary. The empires which human co- operation has raised, are continually changing; the sceptre is passing from hand to hand ; and the balance of power among the nations is jierpetually shifting. The busy, ardent countenance of every man whom, we meet, discovers that he is, or thinks that he is, of some importance. But so his fathers thought before him ; and they are forgotten ; so his children shall think after him, when he sleeps in the dust, and all his talents, his activity, and his services, are buried with him. "One generation passeth away, aud another generation cometh." We trample the dust of cur ancestors under our feet, without reflecting that it once lived, and with- out recollecting that we also shall be mingled with the clods of the valley. Religious dispensations are changing also. We* see Aaron, God's high priest, going up to the top of Mount Hor, and laying down his robes and his life together. The Son descends, arrayed in his Father's vestments, to fill his place for a season ; and then to bequeath the priestly raiment, and the priestly office, to his successor. Tiie apostle looks back upon the long train, who presided first in the tabernacle, and then in the temple, and says — " these were not suffered to continue by reason of death." When this order of things was set aside, and the simpUcity of the gospel supplanted the 190 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. pomp of Judaism, the same vicissitudes marked the new dispensation ; and upon Christian temples we see inscribed the same characters ofmulabiUty. The apostles followed the prophets to the land of silence. Their testimony was taken up by pastors and teachers ; and God has maintained, without interruption, a standing ministry. These have been called away, every man in his order, to resign their employment, and to give an account of their stewardship. The distribution of ordinances now rests with us, upon whom the care of the churches devolves in the present day, and who wait the sig- nal to depart, and to resign our office to others. We see your countenances change from sabbath to sabbath, as we address you in our respective con- gregations. We remember that other feet have stood in our pulpits, and that other voices have sounded within the walls which encircle our wor- shipping assemblies. Every year some of our peo- ple drop around us ; we perceive the grave opening at our own feet, and death ready to seal our lips, when we shall have pronounced the messages which God commands us to deliver. And not only do we change, but the whole creation fades around us. The heavens are waxing old. The founda- tions of the earth are decaying. The pillars which prop universal nature bend with age, tremble un- der the pressure of years, and appear ready to sink beneath the additional weight which time im- poses. He alone remains unchanged who created them ; and he is saying, "Behold I make all things new !" BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 191 GOU'S GRAND EPOCHS. When God speaks of time, lie usually speaks of it as a whole, without regarding its little divisions ; for it is less in the scale of his eternity, than a mo- ment is to all its accumulated ages, from its com- mencement to its consummation. There are four or five epochs in time which he sometimes conde- scends to fix as the measurement of his providence and j)urposes- The day when he set the stream of existence flowing; when "the morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for joy :" when a beautiful and harmonious creation emerged from the darkness and discord of chaos. The day when willing to shew his " wrath, and to make his ])ower known," he broke up " the foun- tains of the deep," and opened "the windows of heaven," and destroyed the earth wiiich he had made, and with it the rebels wlio had grieved his Spirit; and all flesh died — a remnant excei)ted, amounting only to "eight souls," whom he pre- served unhurt amidst this universal overthrow. The day, when his only-begotten Son veiled his uncreated glory in human flesh, and tabernacled with men, and died " the just for the unjust," that he might bring us to God. The day, when "the mountain of the Lord's House shall be exalted above every high hill, and the nations shall flow unto it :" when the Jew shall stretch forth his hand to Messiah the Prince, and say, "Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord ;" when 192 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. Jehovah will "set his King upon his holy hill of Zion," and give him " the heathen for his inheri- tance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession." The day, when^the angel shall " stand upon the sea, and upon the earth, and lift up his hand to heaven, and sware by him that liveth for- ever and ever — that there shall be time no longer." These are the epochs which God fixes, as the measurement of his time ; and not the reigns of Ahasuerus, and Alexander, and Caesar, and the long succession of monarchs, from Nimrod to the last who shall sit upon a throne. These are all inferior events swallowed up and unnoticed in di- vine calculation. PROVIDENCE. There is not a doctrine more absurd in itself, or more pernicious to the interests of mankind, than the doctrine of chance. It is absurd to imagine that God should create the world and abandon the government of it : that he should form beings wholly and entirely dependent upon himself, and then withdraw his support from them. It is per- nicious to human morals, and to human society, to insinuate that God has no superintendance over the affairs of men, and that they have no responsi- bility to him. It is a degrading representation of the Deity to assert, that, supremely happy in him- self, he disregards the felicity of his creatures ; and that infinitely secure, he leaves them alone on the BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 193 troubled deeps of life, tossed from wave to wave, the sport of adverse and ungovernable winds. It is not true. He abandons not the little ark that contains the human race, as it floats upon a tem- pestuous sea. He did not launch yonder worlds with an omnipotent arm, till he had prescribed their orbits with infinite skill. The doctrine of di- vine superiiitendance stimulates exertion. A man labours with a spirit proportionate to his expecta- tion of success. If the issue be left to chance, he may well despair : but if it be in the hands of prov- idence, which will undoubtedly produce the end best adapted to his interests, he has an object be- fore him of unspeakable moment, and he will pur- sue the use of the means with increasing vigour. Scripture Prophecy once established, is a decisive and resistless demonstration of the existence, the agency, and the wisdom of divine providence. THE ENSLAVED AFPdCAN. Snatched from his country, separated from his wife and his children, compressed into a space al- most too narrow for the springs of existence to play as he crosses the waves that waft him forever from every object that communicated a pulse of joy to his heart, he is dragged to a foreign market as a beast of burden, and sold to suffer and to sus- tain all the horrors of slavery. In vain he turns his eyes and stretches his hands towards the shore* of his native land which have disappeared ; in vain 17 194 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. he calls upon his family, or implores pity from his taskmasters ; the winds scatter his lamentations, and the insensible ocean drinks his tears. While he labours under the scorching noon, or is chilled by the damps of the night, nothing is left to allevi- ate the bitterness of captivity. He lias no wife whose affectionate bosom would prove a pillar to his throbbing head ; no child to lisp his name ; no parent to wipe away the tear half-suppressed from his swollen eyes. The scourge is tiie recompense of his toil; and the blood streaming down his sides ploughed by the hand of violence, is the wages of his hard bondage. Hope, that lightens anguish, that sweetens care, that heals the wounds of the heart, the only remaining consolation of the miser- able, and that assists even the prisoner to carry his fetters — Hope has stretched her wings and fled from the fields nourished by human blood, the blood of Africa's enslaved sons. He casts many a gloomy look to the close of that life, which is to him trouble and anguish. He has not even the consolation of reflecting that he shall lay his head upon the turf that hides his ancestors, and repose by the side of his parents: an idea precious to na- ture in her wildest, darkest, most uncultivated state ; and which civilized nations have never con- sented to relinquish. He winds up all his mental powers against the weakness of complaint; he sheds no tears but in secret ; and despair breaks his heart. Nature has taught him that in the grave " the wicked cease from troubling and the BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 195 -and he anticipates death as the only friend which oppression has left him. And who are his tyrants ? The descendants of Shem and of Japheth— polished Europe- By what principles of justice is Europe the scourge of Af- rica ? By what right is the liberty of that man in- fringed and destroyed? We claim a right to the air which we breathe; and to the general, unre- stricted bounties of nature ; and he has with us this common right. Britain concentrates all her forces, and awakens her energies along all her shores her sons arc willing to die for the cause of free- dom ; and this queen of the nations has set a noble example to every other empire, in breaking her yoke from the neck of Africa. Ah, let it not be said, he has no feeling — Look upon his counten- ance, is it not furrowed by tears springing from a sense of sorrow and of injury ? His heart once beat with parental transport. The hut was pre- cious to him which sheltered his children. He wept with his fiimily wlien they wept, and rejoiced when they rejoiced. What is there in the conti- nent scorched by the sun's vertical rays that should so essentially alter man ? Pierce that arm — you will find blood circulating through its veins and arteries like your own. His lind)s are as pliant, and his heart as warm. Do not call him a barba- rian. Deprived of all his rights, with all his con- solations destroyed before his eyes, are we to won- der that mere nature should be sullen and revenge- ful ? Are not those the savages who would not have 196 BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. pity, when they saw the tears of their brother? and who have redDced him to the situation, which excites his fury, and fires his malice ? FALSE ESTIMATES OF CHARACTER. We usually form our judgment of actions, from their splendour rather than from their utility. We are apt to be dazzled by magnificence of appear- ance, without inquiring after the intrinsic value of the object admired : and we are guided by adven- titious and imposing circumstances, in forming our decisions upon any subject, more frequently, than by its native dignity and importance. In judging of human characters, we are necessarily compelled to reason upon that which is external: to gather motives from actions, to rise from effects to causes, and from conduct to argue principles. Unable to read the heart, or to penetrate the veil that covers the latent but powerful springs of human opera- tion, we know others only as they seem, not as they are. But we carry this principle too frequent- ly beyond necessity. When we might have op- portunity of deciding upon something more satis- factory than mere appearance, we neither seek nor embrace the occasion : we rather court that which accommodates itself to the senses, to the pas- sions, even to our infirmities, than that which is addressed to the reason, to the understanding and to the conscience. The eye, in a flower garden, overlooks the violet, and is arrested by the tulip : BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. 197 because the one courts us with all the luxuriance of lovely and dazzling colours, and the other is modestly satisfied with diffusing fragrance around it, without pressing to be seen. Worth seldom asks a witness of its excellence, and often there- fore loses its just applause. Those actions which attract universal notice, and succeed in obtaining general admiration, not merely have frequently little intrinsic value, but are little more than s[)len- did vices. In the estimation of God, he, whom the world almost worship as a Saviour, is found a de- stroyer. We regard persons and things through the medium of prejudice arising from our situation in respect of them ; could we shift our station, or the medium through which we behold them, we should generally find the excellencies or defects ascribed to them, by the partialities of our senti- ments of regard or of aversion, magnified beyond all just proportion, and all real existence. Thus the man whom one nation regards as an object all-glorious, is to another inexpressibly vile : both speak an