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and dissipation; of vanity and extravagance?. The affairs of another world, and the moral state of the human heart, are considerations that seldom obstruct their pursuits or interrupt their quiet. I ask, and appeal to the experience and the consciences of those whom Providence has elevated to opulence and splendour, whether, from the moment of introduction into publick life, the time allotted by Heaven for acts of beneficence and virtue, is not generally spent in conformity to the fashions of the day; in attendance at routs, and balls, and card tables; in frequenting the opera and the playhouse, or in ceremonious visits paid and received frequently, without pleasure and without friendship.

But are these pursuits worthy of an immortal mind? Is this a life on which a rational being can seriously reflect without the terrours of dismay?-yet this is the life of thousands-a life in which are to be found no traces of that purity and perfection once connatural to man; no evidence of compunction for the violation of divine precepts, nor yet of thankfulness for the means by which guilt is expiated, and the trembling

delinquent rescued from perdition. Nay, there are not only those who, like Gallio, care for none of these things, but some that openly discard them; who, though their sins be as scarlet, 'cavil at the means by which they might be made white as snow; and though their iniquities have been multiplied without number, revile the hand which alone can blot them from the register of Heaven.' These are they that awake but to eat and to drink; to gratify the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life. God is not in all their thoughts: his ways are always grievous; and through the pride of their countenance they will not seek after him.

Surely it is unworthy of a reasonable being to spend any of the little time allotted us, without some tendency, either direct or oblique, tọ the end of our existence. And though every moment cannot be laid out on the formal and regular improvement of our knowledge, or in the stated practice of a moral or religious duty, yet none should be so spent as to exclude wisdom or virtue, or pass without possibility of qualifying us more or less for the better employment of those which are to come.

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It is scarcely possible to pass an hour in honest conversation, without being able, when we rise from it, to please ourselves with having given or received some advantage: but a man may shuffle cards, or rattle dice, from noon to midnight, without tracing any new idea in his mind, or being able to recollect the day by any other token than his gain or his loss, and a confused remembrance of agitated passions, and clamorous altercations.'

The beneficent Author of our existence has, for the best of purposes, graciously interwoven in our nature an insatiable thirst after happiness. In pursuit of this happiness all descriptions of men are anxiously engaged; and were we to act consistently with our high origin, we should see both the wisdom and the goodness of God, not only in the implantation of this ever active principle, but in the frustration of every hope that centres in terrestrial enjoyment.

For not in vain, but for the noblest end,
Heaven bids a constant sigh for bliss ascend;
'Tis love divine that moves th' inviting prize
Before, and still before us, to the skies;
Led by our foible forward till we know,
The good which satisfies is not below.'

But ever since the introduction of moral evil into the world, men have changed the object of happiness. They have forsaken the Lord, the fountain of living waters, and have loved and served the creature instead of the Creator. The cry of all is, indeed, Who will shew us any good? but it is a good which, if not suited merely to the animal nature, is always confined to the present life, and which, when enjoyed, is ever found inadequate both to our desires and our expectations. The truth is, we form a wrong estimate of this good, and expect from fruition that which it was never designed to communicate: so that by raising our hopes too high, we lose the pleasure which might be lawfully indulged, and then complain of disappointment and vexation, without considering that the fault lay, not in the object itself, but in the unwarrantable expectations it was intended to gratify. But, though perpetually foiled on every hand,

Yet still for this we pant, on this we trust,
And dream of happiness allied to dust.

Nothing can quench our thirst for earthly good, nor damp the ardour of pursuit. No suspicion

is entertained that the means and the end are at variance. Miscarriage is not ascribed to the real, but to other causes. Happiness, though distant, is still thought attainable; we therefore change the scene, contemplate other objects, equally vain, with fresh rapture; resume the chase with redoubled vigour, pant with ardour for the moment of possession, and if divine goodness do not interpose, go on from stage to stage, till death puts an end to the career of hope, the sinner awakes from his delirium, looks round with horrour and expires!—For

Let changing life be varied as it will,

This weakness still attends, affects us still.
Displeas'd for ever with our present lot,
This we possess, as we possess'd it not:

Put earth's whole globe in wild ambition's power,
O'er one poor world she'd weep, and wish for more.
To birth add fortune, add to fortune-fame,
Give the desiring soul its utmost claim;
The wish recurs--some object unpossess'd
Corrodes, distastes, and leavens all the rest;
And still to death from being's earliest ray,
Th' unknown tomorrow cheats us of today.

If

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any one of readers has looked with so little attention on the world about him, as to ima

gine this representation exaggerated beyond pro

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