he should take it as it is, and deport himself accordingly. The virtues of social life exhibit an example which is powerful, because living, and human, and is set before his eyes to fire his emulation, or rebuke his conscious deficiencies-the blemishes blended with these virtues, and seen by him in others, but not so easily in himself, are intended to stimulate his vigilance, and quicken his self-inspection-the ever-recurring follies of life, with the disasters which often follow them, are disclosed before him in many forms, to keep him from copying after them, and teach him maxims of wisdom-the whole commixture, in short, of piety and impiety, knowledge and ignorance, experience and inexperience, truth and error, integrity and crime, love and hatred, peace and contention, spiritual and secular affection, comfort and wretchedness, is disclosed to his view, in warm and restless activity; with the God of providence pervading the whole, and controlling its every movement, just that he may gather out of it those stimulants, or caveats, or gratitudes, or regrets, which enter into his education for the scenes of a loftier fellowship.

But it is very manifest, here again, that these advantages are not to be acquired by thoughtless indifference, or a passive acquiescence in all that occurs; but by a calm, and active, and meditative survey of actions, and incidents, and moral appearance, as they pass in review before him, and a subjecting of these to the great purpose for which he is placed among them. It is not by yielding himself up to the current, but by gliding along with it, or beating up against it, or crossing it obliquely, ac

cording as he finds it favourable or adverse, that the mariner reaches the distant haven. He floats not inactive on the bosom of the ocean, but rules it by the laws of his art, and compels it to aid his design amidst all its tumultuary movements. So must it be with the man who feels himself afloat on the ocean of human society. He must not be a bondman, but a freeman in that society; not its vassal, but its lord, resisting its hurtful encroachments, and laying it under contribution to the specific business of his life. We say not that he is bound to control its measures, or is always able to do this any more than the voyager can bid the billows be still, or compel them to undulate in the direction of his movement; but, resting on the resources of his religion, he is able to control its influence in its effects upon himself, and estimate its operation on the spirit of his mind, and convert it into a ministration of salutary Christian tuition.

In order to this, however, it is indispensable that he retreat upon his Bible, and imbue his mind with the holy principles of his Bible, and bring the influence of society into comparison with these principles, as the grand ultimate test by which it is to be tried. Without the aid of this supreme directory, he has no means of managing society, nor any sure guide by which to discover the practical use to which its appearances ought to be turned. Without it, in short, he is weak and helpless, having nothing to oppose to the errors of society, but his own private sentiment; nor any thing to sanction its seeming rectitude, but the concurrence of erring mortals; nor any solution of its dubious phenomena, but con

jectures as dubious as they. But this comparison of the spirit of society, with the pure spirit of the Bible, and consequent ascertainment of its practical results, is not an act to be despatched at once, but a process of thought and carefulness, running on through the course of life, adapting itself to the varied aspects which the moving world successively assumes, and necessary, at every stage, to turn the whole to a profitable account. We need not say to

the considerate reader, that this view of his situation opens to him another field for the specific exercises of Christian solitude-a field which is spacious and inviting, and which cannot fail, if gleaned to purpose, to enrich him with spiritual wisdom. But neither need we say to him, that this same solitude is the exclusive scene where the fruits of this field can be converted to practical uses. He knows it is not amidst the toils of the day, and the hum of the busy throng, but in the calm of the evening, that the husbandman reviews his procedure, and detects its errors or oversights, and digests for use the results of his experience, and thus becomes wise and skilful in rendering the earth productive; and he feels, in analogy with this, that the man who is charged with the culture of a heart, amidst the din and commotion of social life, must also have his evenings of quietness, when he looks in secret into his precious trust, and ascertains its real condition, and trains it to make a sacred use, with sorrow, or with satisfaction, of its ever recurring intercourse with the hearts of others around him.

4. The Christian requires solitude to recover the

exhaustion of social life. There is a physical exhaustion of body, or of mind, which may be easily superinduced on so frail an existence as ours, in the present state of things. At present, however, we refer to a kind of it which is moral, and spiritual; and while it is not only true, but ought to be distinctly maintained, that the prosecution of Christian duty, amidst the enjoyment of its special privileges, does not exhaust, but greatly invigorate the energies of the soul in a moral or spiritual point of view-since "the way of the Lord is strength to the upright"—yet in so mixed a state of things as ours, both within the Christian, and around him, he is often conscious of an exhaustion, spiritual as well as physical, from intercourse with promiscuous society; for which it is indispensable that relief be at intervals procured. Like other beings, he has his element, out of which entirely he cannot live at all; and even in which, his spirits languish in proportion as it is mixed or vitiated. If the circle in which he moves be neutral as to piety, but rational and intellectual, and exactly to his mind in every thing else, he is apt to be snared, by its attractions, into moods of mind, or trains of thinking, or even habits and inclinations, which are utterly at variance with the dictates of his better judgment. If it be merely frivolous, but engaging in its way, and suited to his taste in matters of relaxation, he is in danger of being caught into the whirl of its frivolity, till his mind is relaxed and dissipated, and the tone of its piety wofully subdued. Or if it be absolutely ungodly-for in such society even a Christian must sometimes take his place he is apt to be fretted and vexed, if not

infected by its contagion, his feelings lacerated, his patience worn out, and his whole soul most grievously discomposed for the subsequent exercises of religion. These things, and others like them-for we cannot do more than glance at the topic-may assail the Christian in succession, or in formidable combination, resisting his efforts, and quenching his holy aspirings, till, in the struggle against their influence, his strength is wasted, and the things which remain within him are ready to die. These hindrances we know, are not the produce of mere speculation, or the fantastic vexations of an enthusiasm which would overdrive the business of religion, they are realities experienced, and deplored, in one degree or other, by every one who knows what it is to be a Christian, and has set himself in good earnest to exemplify the spirit of the gospel.

To be kept entirely from the scenes, where such influences are put forth, is not desirable, and, generally speaking, it is not possible. This would be to go out of the world, and live a life of absolute seclusion to lose the good to be got in society, for the sake of avoiding its evil-a plain contravention of the fixed arrangements of a gracious providence. But still it is most desirable, that this evil be counteracted, and we know not of any counteraction, so apposite, or so congenial, to the heart of a weary Christian, as retiring into solitude, and recruiting himself there in fellowship with his God. He may please himself, for a time, with other expedients, as a substitute for this, but will find them in the end, to be utterly unavailing. He may pass from a circle which is less spiritual, to one which is more so, and he may