In the kingdoms of the earth, indeed, there is seldom any lasting peace. What Christian but must drop a tear over the fertile realms of Christendom crimsoned with human blood; shed at the instigation of the spirit of APOLLYON, or the DESTROYER, taking his abode in hearts which have rejected the HOLY GHOST, the spirit of love, the God of peace! May the rulers of the world receive the Spirit of Christ, and heal the wounds of the PEOPLE; so shall they experience, in the hour of their own distress, the peace of God which passeth all understanding, and their crowns shall be immortal.

SECTION LVIII.

General Reflections on HAPPINESS-ERRORS in the Pursuit of it-No sublunary Happiness perfect.-Christ's invitation to the wretched.-CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY affords the highest earthly Satisfaction.-Its SUMMUM BONUM is a State of GRACE, or the Enjoyment of divine Favour.

To what purpose are laboured declamations

on the misery of man? He can want no studied proofs of a wretchedness which he sees in others, and feels in his own bosom. To expatiate on the symptoms of a disease, without pointing out a cure or an alleviation, is only to add to the pain, by increasing the impatience of the sufferer.

After all the melancholy pictures of human life, it must be allowed, that there is much comfort in the world, blended with its misery. Look abroad, from the library into real life, and you will see a general appearance of cheerfulness. Though clouds intervene, sunshine predominates. The labourer and mechanic chant

over their daily toil; and though they pause to wipe the sweat off their brow, return to their work, after a short but hearty meal, and the sweetest slumbers, not only without a murmur, but with alacrity.

The prospect of reward at the close of a laborious day, the vicissitudes of rest and labour, the succession of ideas in active employment, the warmth and agitation of the animal spirits consequent on exertion, superinduce a delightful oblivion of care, and render the state of those who are supposed to be the least happy, the poor and laborious, frequently most pleasurable.

Nor let the higher ranks among us be enviously and malignantly misrepresented. Many in the higher ranks devote their time to business and pleasure alternately, and though the harp and the viol, the tabret, and pipe, and wine, are in their feasts;* yet some of them, guided by prudence, moderation, and piety, take a delight, at the same time, in regarding the work of the Lord, and considering the operation of his hand;† suffering neither pleasure nor business to interrupt their endeavour to improve in grace, and to exercise themselves in works of devotion and charity. With respect to CHARITY, which distinguishes this age and nation above all the nations on the face of the earth, by whom are the great establishments for all infirmities and casualties raised and supported, but by the rich and noble, by successful men in business, who most benevolently endeavour to communicate the happiness to which they were born, or with which Providence has blessed their exertions? Happy in themselves, they endeavour to deserve or sanctify their prosperity, by imitating him who gave it, in acts of most disinterested beneficence. For a proof of this, look into our public diaries, and the registers of great charities; and see how eagerly the rich and great contribute to their support.

So that, upon the whole, there is certainly an appearance of goodness and of joy on the face of human affairs; and this appearance, in many cases, is, most certainly, supported by reality. The world abounds with good as well as evil. Our disposition and discon tent too often poison and embitter the rich repast.

It is indeed evident that there is more good than evil in the world. Plenty is certainly more common than scarcity; health than sickness; ease than pain. And this is so far confirmed by experience, as to render the descriptions of human misery, which we read in declamatory harangues, worthy of little credit and attention. Few, comparatively, know what it is to be completely miserable. Who of us, in this country, does not every day enjoy some solid comfort? A vast majority is warmly clothed, plentifully fed, and accommodated with a house for shelter, and a bed for

repose.

Yet let the balance be held evenly. There is, we all experience, an abundance of evil in the world; and it is aggravated and actually increased by fear, and the activity of a lively imagination.

It is true also, that the best of our pleasures and enjoyments are rather amusive, than perfectly and durably satisfactory. For who ever declared himself, in the midst of grandeur, pleasure, opulence, happy to the utmost extent of his wishes? Who but, in some moWho ever ments, has felt a sentiment of discontent? said, "I am now in that settled state of enjoyment and "perfect contentment, that I conceive not a wish of ad"dition to it; I look not to a future day for an increase; "I acquiesce; free at once from hope and from fear?" An involuntary sigh rises in the height of our prósperity.

I shall think myself not uselessly employed in the endeavour to discover the causes of man's failure in

search of satisfaction. What is it that dashes his sweetest and most plentiful cup with a bitter mixture?

In the first place, man raises his expectations too high; beyond what nature and experience justify; when he ventures to promise himself any happiness without defect, and without abatement; a sun without spot; a sky without a cloud. The world is not our home. The world is now old; and the experiment of attaining to perfection of happiness has been tried by every individual that ever existed in it. Many have left on record an account of their experiments, and a uniform avowal of disappointment. He, therefore, that would taste the happiness allowed to human nature, must learn to take aim at marks within his reach, to be duly sensible of little advantages and common blessings, daily exemption from evil, from pain, from debt, from extreme want, from infamy, from exile, from imprisonment. How much happier is he who has a sufficiency of food, of raiment, a comfortable house, and a warm bed, than millions of the human race, in savage climes! Yet these things are little thought of by those who murmur at the evils of life, and pine with the misery of their own situation. Something unpossessed still torments; yet all wish to APPEAR happy.

Many things which, in the midst of our complaints, we possess and enjoy in security, would perhaps render half our fellow-creatures rapturously delighted, though they, who were born to them, pay them not the least attention, in the eagerness of reaching after something more, something highter, something better, to be enjoyed at a future day; that day, which never comes, to mortal man. The possession of our SENSES entire, of our limbs uninjured; of knowledge and skill, of friends and companions, is often overlooked, though it would be the ultimate wish of many, who, as far as we can judge, deserve it as much as ourselves.

Men always compare themselves with those who are above them, without once looking into the vale below, where thousands stand gazing at them with envy and admiration. By this unfortunate comparison, their own good things lose much of their value in their own esteem, and sometimes become totally insipid.

When we consider the number and variety of evils, almost intolerable, in the life of man, we should learn to esteem every disaster incident to human nature, which has not yet fallen to our lot, as a just cause of self-congratulation, complacency, and gratitude. But through ENVY, we turn from the misfortunes of others; and think only of those advantages which give them a superiority over our own condition. If we see a man deaf, or dumb, or blind, or lame, or poor, or in disgrace, we do not derive comfort from the consideration of our own exemption from his defects and calamities; but if we observe another adorned with beauty, endued with strength, elevated to a high rank, or loaded with riches, we secretly repine that we have not been equally blessed with worldly prosperity.

But let us consider how many there are, who would envy every one who has but health and liberty. Go into an hospital. Visit a poor-house. Inspect a prison. Compare your own health, your own competency, your own liberty, hard as you deem your lot, with the friendless wretch, who lies in the agony of pain, or languor of disease, with no help but the cold hand of OFFICIAL charity. No kind relative to sooth with his bland voice, to close his eyes, and shed a tear on his departure. Compare your lot with his who is loaded with chains, where the iron enters his soul, in a cold and damp dungeon. Compare it with that of your poorer neighbours, at the next door. Compare it with that of all the sons and daughters of affliction, a large family-every where to be found.