nature, and answer the objections of unbelievers, on what they call the disorders of this terraqueous globe in gen. eral, and the animal and vegetable ereation in particular, as well as the calamities of the human race; the last of which, I think I have satisfactorily proved, to be imputable to man himself, and not to God: natural evils are most assuredly blessings in disguise; even labour, hunger, pain, sickness and death. Without labour there is no coming to rest, as without a battle, there can be no victory; without hunger we cannot enjoy food; hence the rest and food of the honest poor man, however homely, are incomparably more sweet than those of the rich lazy glutton: without sickness, we would not appreciate the great blessings of health; and without the midwife Death, we never would be delivered from the womb of time, nor see the golden light of eternity. This life is but the dawning of our existence; a mere prelude to a more happy state: that is, if we bear with patience the probationary and salutary

ills of this life, and submit with gratitude to the will of our gracious. God. In order to do this, 'we should accustom ourselves to view our light afflictions, which are only for a moment, in a less hideous light: the same as a sick man views the most salutary, though nauseous medicine, which is calculated to cure all his disorders. Were we always to view the miseries of others, and not forget the blessings we enjoy, we would be grateful to God for our ecomparative happiness. I wish I knew what more to say,* that would have

Were it possible for one of your nearest and dearest relations to arise from the dead, he would ne doubt declare to you, that "every encouragement, every invitation, is on the side of virtue. It has the promises of this life and of that which is to come. He would beseech you, by the superior love of your Maker, by the streaming blood of the Saviour, and by the worth of your own souls, to cast off your ruinous vices, and to return to Him, who is ready to receive the returning sinner, and never casts him out, who comes to Him Listen" he would say, 'O listen to Him, who speaketh from heaven. It is not the voice of an enemy, it is your heavenly Father who calls you. Behold, the very Majesty of the universe bends forward from His throne to invite you. He veils uncreated brightness, to allure you to return to your own happiness. He proclaims Himself the Lord merciful,

the happy tendency to eradicate the doubts of the desperate child of misery. Unbelief works in secret, preys

and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness. He condescends to assure you with an oath, that he has no pleasure in the death of him that dies. He encourages, he threatens, he promises, he remonstrates, he laments, he woos his wretched creatures as if his own unchanging happiness depended on theirs. He leaves the door of mercy open; he gives them space to repent, he does not take them by surprise. Return-Ö yet return to the Father of spirits, my poor deluded relatives. Whom have ye forsaken? What have ye been in pursuit of? Whose conduct have ye put yourselves under? You have forsaken the fountain of your happiness. You have pursued your own ruin. You have given yourself up to the guidance of the enemy of souls. But it is not, even now, too late to retrieve all; all may yet be well, if you will yet be wise.

"Can you shut your ears, and steel your hearts against all that is tender? Are you determined on your own ruin? Shall the blessed message from heaven prove your death, which was intended to be your life? If you will not listen to the still small voice, which now speaks to you from the mercy-seat, the time will quickly come, when your ears, if they were of rock, will be pierced by the thunder of that voice, which will terrify this great world, from the throne of judgment. Think, O hardened offender, think, the time will quickly come, when, as sure as thou now readest this awful warning, thou shalt hear (-it would be thy wisdom to think thou now hearest-) the sound of that trumpet. which will startle the silent dust, and break the slumbers, which were begun before the general flood."

upon the soul, and often ends in selfmurder; and all for the want of listening to the voice of truth.

O that I could prevail upon my poor unhappy fellow worms, to think upon the happiness of eternity, that they might be enabled to endure the miseries of a moment! For farther argument to accomplish this desirable end, 1 would refer the reader to the second edition of

my "Beauties of Philanthropy." I will take the liberty to close this department, with a quotation from that work, page 174, it reads thus:

"The great and gracious Creator made man, with the view of bestowing upon him the plenitude of his liberality, and exalting him to the highest possible state of beatitude: and any man with two grains of common sense, will at once see, that God could not thus exalt and happify man as a machine, without liberty or will. Liberty is a necessary consequence of our reasonable nature. God certainly must have given activity, as well as being: an activity different from his, as well as a substance

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distinct from his: without this, we could not possibly be susceptible of the pleasurable gratification, peculiar to the first born sons of glory. The fact is, God could not possibly give us intelligence, without giving us liberty: an extensive mind, and a freedom of will are inseparably connected; destroy the one, and the other ceases; nor can it in the nature of things any longer exist. It is equally evident, that God could not without infringing our liberty, have hindered us, per force from abusing it. He exhibits truth before our intellectual eyes, in so clear and transcendent a manner, that none but the wilfully blind can possibly mistake it. He displays his sovereign beauty and attractive charms, so that none but the ungenerous can help admiring them. He exhibits the infinitude of his divine philanthropy, to the indiscriminate view of saint and sinner, sage and savage, reverend-men, and lay-men; so that none but the most ungrateful can help seeing, feeling, and adoring the same. Finally, he manifests to his rational