but reflect disgrace upon his friends, and contaminate his companions. Can such an author, then, be suitable for any one to recur to, who wishes to be made acquainted with the arguments against the truth of revelation? Can any one be satisfied to take his lesson from the superficial, the contemptible, the profane? Does not every noble feeling say no? Does not every ingenuous mind see that such a writer has not the shadow of a claim to attention. Let the sincere inquirer rather go to the unbeliever who has given the objections in explicit, honest, sober language. If none such can be found, let him take it at the hand of some upright character who has stripped it of all the trappings of art, and exhibited it in its naked and entire form. With justice it may be added, let him give to the answers to the attacks upon Christianity, the attention and candour which he bestowed upon the attacks themselves. In this way, if he be not made sensible how greatly the balance preponderates on the side of belief, he will acquire a knowledge of the true state of his cause, and be preserved from the deteriorating influence of those works, whose aim is to spin out a thread of sophistry till the stuff is exhausted, and wax over its weakness with blasphemous wit, and indecent buffoonery.

SERMON LVII.

IT

LESSONS FROM LILIES.

ST. MATTHEW, vi. 28.

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow."

T is not the least observable of man's privileges, that this great amphitheatre of nature is set open to him, and he capacitated to enjoy its delights, and convert its beauties into sources of instruction. There is not a part of it, nor an object with which it is adorned, that does not offer an occasion of pleasing employment and useful reflection to the intelligent, moral mind. Here charms unfold themselves of infinite variety, in objects formed for invaluable use, and thick clustering on these charms are sacred lessons more precious than the objects themselves to man. At every period of the shifting scene, if he but notice, he must be made better he cannot contemplate and not adore. At the present season, when nature is commencing the grand annual exhibition of beauty and of skill, when everything around us teems with life, and by the enlivening change from winter's dreariness to spring-tide joys, our very spirits are attuned to recreation: who can forbear to give many an hour to the wonders of the cheerful scene! who would not accept the Saviour's invitation, to "consider the lilies of the field how they grow." We will devote this afternoon to the pleasing work, not merely to look at and admire them, but with the industry of the bee, often man's pattern and reproof, to sip from them a honey for the soul.

To trace with lengthened argument the being of God from the beautiful productions of nature; to point to the appearance of design in every object; to enlarge upon its incapacity to produce itself; to show the improbability of accounting for any thing without the existence of an intelligent, eternal cause, is, indeed, a pleasant, but, it is presumed, an unnecessary task. Men do not disbelieve the existence of a God. You do not need to have it proved to you. It is impossible that any one with an unbiased mind, and uncontaminated heart, should survey the works of creation without feeling a voice struggling in his bosom to exclaim: "These are thy works, Parent omnipotent." Deep engraved upon every vegetative object, from the humblest spire of grass to the lily in its glory, is the name of its Author-engraved, too, in characters too great to be unseen except by the blind, or the diseased in their sight. With the humble, the honest, and the sedate, to behold calls forth conviction of a God; to behold studiously, discovers his attributes.

I need not then labour at present to show from the wonders of the vegetative world the existence of its Author; but, presuming that you do not enter the field of nature without a consciousness of the Divinity, who there is and reigns, will hasten to observe how his inanimate works honour his name, and speak his praise. That wisdom in which he clotheth himself is magnified; that power of which he boasteth is shown; that goodness in which he placeth his glory is celebrated; dependence upon that providence which he exerciseth over all his works is acknowledged-by every plant which vegetates in the field, and attracts our attention as beautiful or useful. To survey them all and mark their various praise, oh, it were a feast for ages! Select one. Observe only that which the Saviour has honoured. "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow." Brought forth in their appointed season, progressive in their growth, and interfering with no other class, they proclaim the Deity a God of order. Observe their texture; the wonderful adjustment of their parts for the reception and digestion of their food; the springs, more curious than art's most perfect work, by which

they are expanded; the accuracy with which they are kept distinct: surely in these they excite adoration for that wisdom which fashioned them in the beginning and perpetuates their kind. Consider their origin-a little seed, decaying in the earth; their sustenance a fluid conducted invisibly through their feeble pores; their growth, something too mighty or too simple for our comprehension: and learn from them to fear and believe a God of almighty and unfailing power. Ask, finally, their use. Arrayed in stately glory to beautify this habitation of man, and blessed with the spirit of Bethesda's pool, with healing properties for many evils, they teach us that goodness, infinite goodness, gives their Creator claim to our first, best affections. Thus does the plant, to which the Saviour pointed his disciples, and in like manner the infinitude of nature's productions, swell in expressive notes the chorus of praises to their Author, God. This is one end of their existence; they answer it; and man has here an important lesson, so to live and behave in his appointed sphere that he come not behind the inanimate scribes in reflecting the glory of his Creator. He too was formed, as well as they, that the Almighty might be glorified. If, by transgressing the laws of nature, and falling from his proper place and use, he interrupt the order and harmony of the vast system of beings; if by impiety or vice he mar the beauty of God's works, and in himself defile the noblest visible production of the Almighty's skill, what is he but a blot in the creation. Superior beings-who, in their view may include the moral with the material sphere, and would, if man were innocent, contemplate the glory of the Supreme in our race, as we behold it in inferior works-must, when man sins, feel deep regret that the vast scene of harmony and beauty in creation should be marred by the intelligent species upon whom the Deity lavished his skill and favour. Never is man so noble an object, never does he so truly answer the end of his existence, as when his character and conduct are in perfect consonance with the beauty, order, and usefulness of the parts of creation around us, and he, as the great representative of all visible na

ture, collects the mighty tribute of praise which the inanimate orders of beings offer to the Creator, and brings it in humble worship to his throne.

Again: the subject suggests to us the unceasing care of the Most High for all his works. It was to teach his disciples the unwearied activity of the divine providence in blessing the earth, and the things upon it, that the Saviour particularly directed them to "consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. It is not by exertions of their own, it is not by their inherent properties solely, that the productions of the earth spring forth and reach maturity. Everything in nature is dependent. If the sun withhold his shining, the seed perishes in the earth. If the clouds retain their vapours, the plant fades and dies. The lily grows not, but by his perpetual agency who governs the seasons, commands the elements, and is the life of all. Constant in his care, and exhaustless in his treasures, dependent nature is not left to suffer. At the appointed season he leads on the spring to call forth man to prepare for his Maker's bounty. He commands the heavens to drop down rain and dew; the earth is filled with fertility. He bids the sun pour down his beams upon it; the earth seems everywhere bursting with life. He watches the tender germ, the rising plant, the forming bud, till it unfolds its inglorious, wonderful maturity. Of every species of vegetative production he is thus careful, from the cedar which is in Lebanon, unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall. If-ah, blessed be his goodness that it no oftener happens—if he withhold his showers and sunshine, and fructifying blessing from the earth, dreadful is the proof of the dependence of all things upon him, horrid are the consequences! The glory of the lily perishes; the grass and the green herb die; bread fails; the cattle rend the air with lowing; famine spreads living death upon the sons of men. Never can we feel so grateful that this misery so seldom is experienced by us, as to leave us almost too free from apprehension of the failure of our Father's bounty. His watchfulness and care for his works are so constant, that experience has authorized us to consider seed time and harvest