body than raiment-how much health, for instance, is above riches; strength and activity of our own above the help and attendance of others; nature in all things above art; beauty above dress; the use of our eye-sight more precious, by a thousand degrees, than treasures of gold and silver; of hearing, than all the titles and honours and distinctions in the world. I do not say that in youth men do not believe this assertion, but they do not reflect upon it. It is a thought which does not readily come into their minds: if ever they live to find the declension or departure of these blessings, then they will know, that the things which they receive immediately, as it were, from the hands of our Creator, and which the poor receive equally at least, and perhaps more than equally, with the rich, are beyond all price and calculation and comparison, superior to what they receive by anything that proceeds from civil or social intercourse. They are then convinced how poor and contemptible, how misplaced and miscalculated, is not only the indulgence of their bad propensities, but the objects for which they indulge them; when they are taught that riches and honours are what they have been used to envy and covet; the gifts of their Maker are what they have neglected, passed over, and abused-what they have never thought of in relation to the Benefactor who gave them, or with a feeling of everlasting gratitude which is due to him for so great and gracious a blessing.

Again; old age brings us to know the value of the blessings which we have enjoyed; and it brings us also to a very thankful perception of those which yet remain. Is a man advanced in life? The ease of a single day, the rest of a single night, are gifts which may be subjects of gratitude to God. He is sensible of the gift. The gifts of God are not more or greater to one state of life than another; but a great many very important circumstances belonging to their states, which by the young and strong are regarded as no advantages, are felt by the old as very great blessings, and felt with great satisfaction and thankfulness. Ease to the young is insipid; and, if continued, wearisome-to the old it is sufficient to constitute enjoyment. It has been said of these two periods of life, that young men are never happy but when they are in the pursuit or enjoyment of pleasure—that old men are happy when they are at ease. The young are fretful, and restless, and impatient, under the mere absence of pain; the old, on the contrary, draw actual enjoyment from this state. I think this

is a true account, and that it was intended so to be. The young were intended for activity; and they were, therefore, to be stimulated and spurred on to exertion. It would not have agreed with the intention of an all-wise Providence to have made them content with ease. The old, on the other hand, were designed for repose; which design is indicated, not only by the gradual declension of their active powers, but by the increasing satisfaction which they find in repose. Herein old age has the advantage over youth. Ease is more readily attainable than pleasure. The time of life and state of constitution which may be made happy by ease may be blessed with a portion of happiness, which its more flourishing periods may The truth seems to be that God has never yet have obtained. provided for each season of life its own satisfactions. A wellordered mind not only perceives this in general, but makes the very interruption and decay and loss of former faculties a reason for being more exceedingly thankful for those which are left. If his strength fail, he draws more happiness from the use of that which is left.

Now every thing which is of a nature to turn the thoughts to God is religion, or rather may be, and ought to be, a source of religion; and whatever has a tendency to make us look upon God as the father of all these benefits-see him in his giftsrefer to him all our comforts-understand our close and intimate dependence upon him both in body and soul, for our bodily ease as well as mental tranquillity-every thing, in a word, which stirs and excites our affection towards him, may produce in us a near application to religion,-may carry us to it in the best way. And we may therefore, say, that advanced years ought to dispose men to their religion on this very account-that they make them more sensible of the gifts and graces and blessings of our Creator than youth usually is: I do not mean to say than youth ought to be-the contrary is the truth; but than youth usually is.

Again; it is scarcely possible that any man can have lived to sixty or seventy years without having experienced many special blessings: I do not mean that general providence, by which his life has been for so long time preserved and continued to him, but many special favours and mercies in the course of it. Recollections of this kind, so long as God is pleased to grant the powers of recollection, ought to employ the minds of those in

particular who are advanced in years, and raise their thoughts to God. Either they have been critically perhaps preserved from sin, which, though they did not think so at the time, they now acknowledge to have been the very greatest of all possible mercies; or though they have fallen, or perhaps rushed headlong into sin, they were not ruined by it, as they might have been ruined. They escaped many of the consequences of it, which might have destroyed them. They were spared in order to repent. They were saved and snatched as a brand out of the fire. These are truly spiritual blessings. These are points and marks of Providence which ought to be peculiarly grateful to aged men, and which they should delight to meditate upon, both because they are immediately and intimately connected with that salvation in which they now ought to be more peculiarly interested, and leading their contemplation into that eternity, they do certainly border upon; and also, because the chief and natural satisfaction of old age is mental rather than bodily. But even here many recollections crowd upon a mind even less sensible to the gratifications of thought and serious meditation. They may have been recovered and rescued in times of great bodily danger. Their lives and limbs have been preserved to them through some great perils, some extraordinary accidents, some severe sickness. They have often been drawn near to the edge and brink of their mortal fate. They have stood upon the precipice of death and confines of eternity; and what makes such preservation a mercy indeed is that which I fear too many of us but too well remember-that if they had been cut off when they were in so much danger, they had been cut off in their sins. Is not then our preservation from such dangers, both ghostly and bodily-both of soul and body—a mercy to be acknowledged with the deepest sense of thankfulness and obligation? Still more shall we acknowledge it, if we have used the mercy and forbearance of our Maker as we ought to do; that is, if we have grown better since: if danger has alarmed and roused us; if our escape has taught us fear and caution-fear of God, and caution in offending him: if these beginnings have gone on, and have had the effect of generating seriousness of temper, holiness and purity of heart, more spirituality than was formerly felt, stronger faith and livelier hopes, a gradual rising above the follies of the world; what may we not attribute to this multitude of years-to this language, which nature and age

so forcibly speak? A mature age, well instructed by experience, well versed in the changes and chances of this mortal life, ought to be expected to have where at last to fix its views-whither to point and direct all its endeavours-from whence to look for any steadfast ground of consolation, any firm security, any rational object of pursuit and confidence.

XXVII.

OF THE STATE AFTER DEATH.

1 JOHN III. 2.

"Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is."

ONE of the most natural solicitudes of the human mind is to know what will become of us after death, what is already become of those friends who are gone. I do not so much mean the great question, whether we and they shall be happy or miserable, as I mean the question, what is the nature and condition of that state which we are so soon to try. This solicitude, which is both natural and strong, is sometimes, however, carried too far; and this is the case when it renders us uneasy, or dissatisfied, or impatient under the obscurity in which the subject is placed; and placed, not only in regard to us, or in regard to common men, but in regard even to the apostles themselves of our Lord, who were taught from his mouth, as well as immediately instructed by his Spirit. Saint John, the author of the text which I have read to you, was one of these; not only an apostle, but of all the apostles, perhaps, the most closely connected with his Master, and admitted to the most intimate familiarity with him. What it was allowed, therefore, for man to know, Saint John knew. Yet this very Saint John acknowledges, "that it doth not yet appear what we shall be;" the exact nature, and condition, and circumstances of our future state are yet hidden from us.

I think it credible that this may, in a very great degree, arise from the nature of the human understanding itself. Our Saviour said to Nicodemus, "If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe not, how shall ye believe if I tell you of heavenly things?”

It is evident from the strain of this extraordinary conversation, that the disbelief on the part of Nicodemus, to which our Saviour refers, was that which arose from the difficulty of comprehending the subject. Therefore our Saviour's words to him may be construed thus: If what I have just now said concerning the new birth, concerning being born again, concerning being born of the Spirit, concerning the agency of the Spirit, which are all "earthly things," that is, are all things that pass in the hearts of Christians in this their present life, and upon this earth; if this information prove so difficult, that you cannot bring yourself to believe it, by reason of the difficulty of apprehending it; "how shall ye believe," how would ye be able to conquer the much greater difficulties which would attend my discourse," if I told you of heavenly things?" that is to say, if I speak to you of those things which are passing, or which will pass, in heaven, in a totally different state and stage of existence, amongst natures and beings unlike yours? The truth seems to be, that the human understanding, constituted as it is, though fitted for the purposes for which we want it, that is, though capable of receiving the instruction and knowledge, which are necessary for our conduct and the discharge of our duty, has a native original incapacity for the reception of any distinct knowledge of our future condition. The reason is, that all our conceptions and ideas are drawn from experience, (not, perhaps, all immediately from experience, but experience lies at the bottom of them all,) and no language, no information, no instruction, can do more for us than teach us the relation of the ideas which we have. Therefore, so far as we can judge, no words whatever that could have been used, no account or description that could have been written down, would have been able to convey to us a conception of our future state, constituted as our understandings now are. I am far from saying that it was not in the power of God, by immediate inspiration, to have struck light and ideas into our minds, of which naturally we have no conception. I am far from saying that he could not, by an act of his power, have assumed a human being, or the soul of a human being, into heaven; and have shown to him or it the nature and the glories of that kingdom: but it is evident that, unless the whole order of our present world be changed, such revelations as these must be rare-must be limited to very extraordinary persons, and very extraordinary occasions. And