ights. Thou calmest the passions. Thou exaltest the rt. Thy communications, and thine only, are imparted he low, no less than to the high; to the poor, as well as he rich, In thy presence, worldly distinctions cease; 1 under thy influence, worldly sorrows are forgotten. ou art the balm of the wounded mind. Thy sanctuary ver open to the miserable, inaccessible only to the unteous and impure. Thou beginnest on earth the temper eaven. In thee, the hosts of angels and blessed spirits rnally rejoice.

SECTION XIV.

BLAIR.

planetary and terrestrial Worlds comparatively considered To us, who dwell on its surface, the earth is by far the st extensive orb that our eyes can any where behold: it is o-clothed with verdure, distinguished by trees, and adorned h a variety of beautiful decorations; whereas, to a spectaplaced on one of the planets, it wears a uniform aspect; ks all Iminous; and no larger than a spot. To beings 10 dwell at still greater distances, it entirely disappears. at which we call alternately the morning and the evening ar, (as in one part of the orbit she rides foremost in the ession of night, in the other ushers in and anticipates e dawp,) is a planetary world. This planet, and the four hers that so wonderfully vary their mystic dance, are in emselves dark bodies, and shine only by reflection; have ids and seas, and skies of their own; are furnished with I accommodations for animal subsistence, and are supposed be the abodes of intellectual life; all which, together with r earthly habitation, are dependent on that grand dispenr of divine munificence, the sun; receive their light from e distribution of his rays, and derive their comfort from his ign agency.

The sun, which seems to perform its daily stages through e sky, is in this respect fixedland immoveable; it is the reat axle of heaven, about which the globe we inhabit, and ther more spacious orbs, wheel their stated courses. The n, though seemingly smaller than the dial it illuminates, abundantly larger than this whole earth, en which so any lofty mountains rise, and such vast oceans roll. A ine extending from side to side through the centre of that splendent orb, would measure more than eight hundred housand miles a girdle formed to go round its circumfernee would require a length of millions. Were its solid ontents to be estimated, the account would overwhelm our

understanding, and be almost beyond the power of languse to express. Are we startled at these reports of philosophy Are we ready to cry out in a transport of surprise, “Han mighty is the Being who kindled so prodigious a fire; an keeps alive, from age to age, so enormous a mass of flame let us attend our philosophical, and we shall be brought acquainted with speculations more enlarged more inflaming.

This suu, with all its attendant planets, is but a very li tle part of the grand machine of the universe; every sta though in appearance no bigger than the diamond that gl ters upon a lady's ring, is really a vast globe, like the se in size and glory; no less spacious, no less fuminous, that the radiant source of day. So that every star, is not barely a world, but the centre of a magnificent system; has a inste of worlds, irradiated by its beams, and revolving ro its attractive influence, all which are lost to our sight in measurable wilds of ether. That the stars appear fike many diminutive, and scarcely distinguishable points, is o ing to their immense and inconceivable distance. Immense and inconceivable indeed it is, since a ball, shot from the loaded cannon, and flying with unabated rapidity, must tra el at this impetuous rate, almost seven hundred thousand years, before it could reach the nearest of these twinkling luminaries.

While, beholding this vast expanse, I learn my own ex treme meanness. I would also discover the abject littlenest of all terrestrial things. What is the earth, with all be ostentatious scenes, compared with this astonishingly grand furniture of the skies? What but a dim speck, hardly per ceivable in the map of the universe? It is observed by ave ry judicious writer, that if the sun himself, which enlight ens this part of the creation, were extinguished, and all the hosts of planetary worlds, which move about him, were an nikilated, they would not be missed by an eye that can take in the whole compass of nature, any more than a grain sand upon the sea shore. The bulk of which they consis and the space which they occupy, are so exceedingly litt in comparison of the whole, that their loss would scarcel leave a blank in the immensity of God's works. If the not our globe only, but this whole system, be so very diu inutive, what is a kingdom or a country? What are a few lordship or the so much admired patrimonies of those wh are styled wealthy? When I measure them with my ow! little pittance, they swell into proud and bloated dimensions

4

it when I take the universe for my standard, how seanty their size! how contemptible their figure! They shrink to pompous nothings.

SECTION XV.

ADDISON

the power of Custom, and the uses to which it may

applied.

be

THERE is not a common saying, which has a better tura 'sense in it, than what we often hear in the mouths of the lgar, that Custom is a second nature.' It is indeed able form the man anew; and give him inclinations and eateities altogether different from those he was born with. person who is addicted to play or gaming, though he took at little delight in it at first, by degrees contracts so strong a inclination towards it, and gives himself up so entirely yit, that it seems the only end of his being. The love of retired or busy life will grow upon a man insensibly, as e is conversant in the one or the other, till he is utterly nqualified for relishing that to which he has been for some ime disused. Nay, a man may smoke, or drink, or take buff, till he is unable to pass away his time without it; not mention how our delight in any particular study, art or cience, rises and improves in proportion to the application which we bestow upon it. Thus, what was at first an exreise, becomes at length an entertainment. Our employnents are changed into diversions. The mind grows fond of those actions it is accustomed to; and is drawn with reuney from those paths in which it has been used to walk. If we attentively consider this property of human nature, it may instruct us in very fine moralities. In the first place, I would have no man discouraged with that kind of life, or series of action, in which the choice of others, or his own necessities, may have engaged him. It may perhaps be very disagreeable to him at first; but use and application will certainly render it not only less painful, but pleasing and satisfactory.

69.66

In the second place, I would reccommend to every one, the admirable precept which Pythagoras is said to have given to his disciples, and which that philosopher must have drawn from the observation I have enlarged upon : 66 Pitch upon that course of life which is the most excellent, and custom will render it the most delightful.? "" Men, whose circumstances will permit them to choose their own way of life, are inexcusable if they do not pursue that which their judgment

tells them is the most laudable. The voice of reason is more to be regarded, than the bent of any present inclination; since, by the rule abovementioned, inclination will at length come over to reason, though we can never force reason to comply with inclination.

In the third place, this observation may teach the most sensual and irreligious man, to overlook those hardships and difficulties, which are apt to discourage him from the prosecution of a virtuous life. "The Gods," said Hesiod," have placed labour before virtue; the way to her is at first rough and difficult, but grows more smooth and easy the farther we advance in it. The man who proceeds in it with steadimess and resolution, will, in a little time, find that her "ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace." To enforce this consideration, we may further observe, that the practice of religion will not only be attended with that pleasure which naturally accompanies those actions to which we are habituated, but with those supernumerary joys of heart that rise from the consciousness of such a pleasure; from the satisfaction of acting up to the dictates of reason; and from the prospect of a happy immortality.

In the fourth place, we may learn from this observation, which we have made on the mind of man, to take partienlar care, when we are once settled in a regular course of life, how we too frequently indulge ourselves in even the most innocent diversions and entertainments; since the mind may insensibly fall off from the relish of virtuous actions, and by degrees, exchange that pleasure which it takes in the performance of its duty, for delights of a much inferior and an unprofitable nature.

The last use which I shall make of this remarkable property in human nature, of being delighted with those actions to which it is accustomed, is, to show how absolutely neces sary it is for us to gain habits of virtue in this life, if we would enjoy the pleasures of the next. The state of bliss, we call heaven, will not be capable of affecting those minds which are not thus qualified for it: we must, in this world, gain a relish of truth and virtue, if we would be able to taste that knowledge and perfection, which are to make us happy in the next. The seeds of those spiritual joys and raptures, which are to rise up and flourish in the soul to all eternity, must be planted in it during this its present state of probation. In short, heaven is not to be looked upon only as the reward, but as the natural effect of a religious life,

ADDISON.

SECTION XVI.

The Pleasures resulting from a proper Use of our Faculties. HAPPY that man, who, unembarrassed by vulgar cares, master of himself, his time, and fortune, spends his time in making himself wiser, and his fortune, in making others (and therefore himself) happier; who, as the will and understanding are the two ennobling faculties of the soul, thinks himself not complete, till his understanding is beautified with the valuable furniture of knowledge, as well as his will enriched with every virtue; who has furnished himself with all the advantages to relish solitude and enliven conversation; who, when serious, is not sullen; and when cheerful, not indiscreetly gay; whose ambition is, not to be admired for a false glare of greatness, but to be beloved for the gentle and sober lustre of his wisdom and goodness.

The greatest minister of state has not more business to do, in a publick capacity, than he, and indeed every other man, may find, in the retired and still scenes of life. Even in his private walks. every thing that is visible convinces him there is present a Being invisible. Aided by natural philosophy, he reads plain legible traces of the Divinity in every thing he meets: he sees the Deity in every tree, as well as Moses did in the burning bush, though not in so glaring a manner: and when he sees him, he adores him with the tribute of a grateful heart.

SEED.

SECTION XVII.

Description of Candour.

TRUE candour is altogether different from that guarded ineffensive language, and that studied openness of behaviour, which we so frequently meet with among men of the world. Smiling, very often, is the aspect, and smooth are the words, of those who inwardly are the most ready to think evil of others. That candour, which is a christian virtue, consists not in fairness of speech, but in fairness of heart. It may want the blandishment of external courtesy, but supplies its place with a humane and generous liberality of sentiment. Its manners are unaffected, and its professions cordial. Exempt, on one hand, from the dark jealousy of a suspicious mind, it is no less removed, on the other, from that easy credulity which is imposed on by every specious pretence. It is perfectly consistent with extensive knowledge of the world, and with due attention to our own safety. In that

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