preying upon itself, in the confession of a Roman Emperor, to whose absolute dominion, the whole civilized world was then actually subject.

That Arch-Tyrant, Tiberius, while he was laying under contribution to his pride and his pleasures, almost the whole existing generation of mankind-declares, in public letters to the Roman Senate, the anguish of his soul"which (he says) he felt destroying him, every day," in terms so expressive of the confusion and desolation, which reigned within himthat two ancient historians, of the greatest authority, have thought proper to transmit his very words to future ages,-in order to lay open the soul of a wicked man, surrounded with every outward pomp, that could soothe his inward agony.

Can there be a better comment upon our Saviour's question-" What is all the world to him, who has lost his soul?"-If these men, who had attained the summit of ambition,—

who trod upon the necks of Kings-who were despotic lords of their species-who beheld the world, and all that it contained, prostrate at their feet-and fancied themselves Gods upon earth-were yet perhaps the most miserable of mankind; what follows, but that, when the soul itself, the very seat of enjoyment or suffering, is vitiated and disordered, vain are all outward sources of delight; and will rather aggravate than quench the burning thirst of the fever that consumes it.

Let a man be surrounded with every object that can feast the senses or enchant the imagination: let Nature display all her stores, unfold all her charms: let the eye, the ear, be facinated with every variety of allurement; let the heart be soothed with universal adulation, universal homage: let all the powers of Genius conspire for the entertainment of every faculty: and every hour be crowned with a confluence of new and exquisite pleasures. Would not all this render Man happy? No. You must add something more, or you have conferred

nothing. The soul, which is occupied by no generous purpose or pursuit; which is neither cheered with its own approbation, nor that of its Maker; nor able to look into futurity without dread, cannot feel satis fied, or truly happy. Opprest with such feelings of degradation, and alarm,-like the Sicilian Tyrant's flatterer, who beheld a glittering sword hung by a single hair from the centre of the canopy, beneath which he was seated at the banquet; we should languish amidst all the pleasures of the world; and all the homage that mankind could bestow.Every rational being must, under the guidance and guardianship of Divine Providence, work out his own happiness. It can be the fruit only of virtuous and honourable aims; and of the steady application of our talents and our powers, for their accomplishment. When therefore, by soliciting the senses, and indulg ing the imagination to excess, the soul has renounced the authority of conscience and reason-the voice of God, within her-she is lost

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to herself, and to the most exalted satisfactions of her nature: and nothing is more probable than that the acquisition of the world, might become eventually the loss of the soul;-the destruction of its proper happiness, even in this life.

But our Saviour's meaning extends beyond this life. Could you, by departing from the path of duty, not only exempt your life from hardship and suffering; but make it the scene of one continued transport;-thus acquired, the pleasure and the gain would be but temporary; the loss, eternal. In a few years, at most-the soul, sunk in sensuality, or dissipated in forbidden pleasures, will be removed from all connection with the concerns of time. Never more shall it be regaled with the luxuries, or charmed with the splendors, which ministered to voluptuousness and vanity; never more, breathe the incense of adulation; swell with triumphant pride; or domineer over its fellow beings. The grand apartment, the brilliant circle, the obsequious retinue the tu

mult, the revelry, the delirium of its brief and busy day are no more. It ends perhaps with the gorgeous procession of a grand funeralbut the last scene of solemn pageantry is past; and all is silence.-What now is become of the lordly being, on whom were lately fixed, the eyes of all the world? Alas! he has lost his soul. He gained indeed all that the world could give; and he has paid the forfeit. The hours have passed away in folly and in guilt, wherewith he might have purchased the reversion of immortal happiness. He has exchanged his soul, for the world: but not ten thousand worlds can redeem the lost soul. What the impenitent will have to undergo, after this short life is ended; though partly described in images of terror, is left partly under a veil of darkness. But the Eternal Laws of the Uni verse-we may rest assured, are not to be vio lated with impunity,

If the strength of mature age is susceptible

of a more intense as well as a more lasting pang, than the feebleness of infancy-what