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will, by refreshing, invigorate him for nobler pursuits. In the regions inhabited by angelick natures, unmingled felicity for ever blooms; joy flows there with a perpetual and abundant stream, nor needs any mound to check its course. Beings conscious of a frame of mind originally diseased, as all the human race has cause to be, must use the regimen of a stricter self-government. Whoever has been guilty of voluntary excesses, must patiently submit both to the painful workings of nature, and needful severities of medicine, in order to his cure. Still he is entitled to a moderate share. of whatever alleviating accommodations this fair mansion of his merciful Parent affords, consistent with his recovery. And, in proportion as this recovery advances, the liveliest joy will spring from his secret sense of an amended and improved heart. So far from the horrours of despair is the condition even of the guilty.—Shudder, poor mortal, at the thought of the gulf into which thou wast just now going to plunge.
Whilst the most faulty have every encouragement to amend, the more innocent soul will be supported with still sweeter consolations under all its experience of human infirmities, supported by the gladdening assurances, that every sincere endeavour to outgrow them, shall be assisted, accepted, and rewarded. To such a one, the lowliest selfabasement is but a deep-laid foundation for the most elevated hopes; since they who faithfully examine and acknowledge what they are, shall be enabled under my conduct, to become what they desire. The Christian and the hero are inseparable; and to the aspirings of unassuming trust and filial confidence, are set no bounds. To him who is animated with a view of obtaining approbation from the Sovereign of the universe, no difficulty is insurmountable. Secure, in this pursuit, of every needful aid, his conflict with the severest pains and trials, is little more than the vigorous exercises of a mind in health. His patient dependence on that Providence which looks through all eternity, his silent resignation, his ready accommodation of his thoughts and behaviour to its inscrutable ways, are at once the most excellent sort of self-denial, and a source of the most exalted transports. Society is the true sphere of human virtue. In social, active life, difficulties will perpetually be met with; restraints of many kinds will be necessary; and studying to behave right in respect of these, is a discipline of the human heart, useful to others, and improving to itself. Suffering
is no duty, but where it is necessary to avoid guilt, or to do good; nor pleasure a crime, but where it strengthens the influence of bad inclinations, or lessens the generous activity of virtue. The happiness alloted to man in his present state, is indeed faint and low, compared with his immortal prospects, and noble capacities: but yet whatever portion of it the distributing hand of heaven offers to each individual, is a needful support and refreshment for the present moment, so far as it may not hinder the attaining of his final destination.
"Return then with me from continual misery, to moderate enjoyment, and grateful alacrity; return from the contracted views of solitude, to the proper duties of a relative and dependent being. Religion is not confined to cells and closets, nor restrained to sullen retirement. These are the gloomy doctrines of Superstition, by which she endeavours to break those chains of benevolence and social affection, that link the welfare of every particular with that of the whole. Remember that the greatest honour you can pay the Author of your being, is a behaviour so cheerful as discovers a mind satisfied with his dispensations."
Here my preceptress paused; and I was going to express my acknowledgments for her discourse, when a ring of bells from the neighbouring village, and the new risen sun darting his beams through my windows, awoke me.
Lo! like a glorious pile of diamonds bright,
Rolls through the woods-they send its accents back,
Its foam is scattered on the margent bound,
When the mad storm-wind tears the oak asunder,
The fierce wolf prowls around thee-there he stands
The wild stag hears thy falling waters'sound,
The wild horse thee approaches in his turn:
Beneath the cedar, in abstraction sunk,
On yonder old and mouldering moss-bound trunk,
The lance, the sword, the ample shield beneath,
And yet upon his golden breast-plate plays
So is our little stream of life poured out,
Day after day prepares the funeral shroud;
O glory! glory! mighty one on earth!
How many a wondering eye is turned to thee,
Thy waters, hurrying fiercely through the plain,
O fairer, lovelier is the modest rill,
To the wild mountain let the wanderer come,
With saddened eye, the green and grassy tomb,
'O! what is human glory, human pride?
What are man's triumphs when they brightest seem?
Or nothing! 'Tis a heavy hollow ball,
And filled with storm-winds, thunders, passions, all
But a few hours, or moments, and beneath
But gratitude still lives and loves to cherish
List then, ye worldly waterfalls! Vain men,
Roar, roar, thou waterfall! lift up thy voice