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these inanimate beauties, that I fancy I am like Adam in Paradise; and it is my only misfortune that I want an Eve, and have none but the birds of the air, and the beasts of the field, for my companions.

LIVING NEAR TO GOD-LETTER TO HIS WIFE. I hope, my dear, you will not be offended when I tell you that I am, what I hardly thought it possible, without a miracle, that I should have been, very easy and happy without you. My days begin, pass, and end in pleasure, and seem short because they are so delightful. It may seem strange to say it, but really so it is, I hardly feel that I want any thing. I often think of you, and pray for you, and bless God on your account, and please myself with the hope of many comfortable days, and weeks, and years with you; yet I am not at all anxious about your return, or, indeed, about any thing else. And the reason, the great and sufficient reason is, that I have more of the presence of God with me than I remember ever to have enjoyed in any one month of my life. He enables me to live for him, and to live with him. When I awake in the morning, which is always before it is light, I address myself to him, and converse with him, speak to him while I am lighting my candle and putting on my clothes; and have often more delight before I come out of my chamber, though it be hardly a quarter of an hour after my awaking, than I have enjoyed for whole days, or, perhaps, weeks of my life. He meets me in my study, in secret, in family devotions. It is pleasant to read, pleasant to compose, pleasant to converse with my friends at home; pleasant to visit those abroad—the poor, the sick; pleasant to write letters of necessary business by which any good can be done ; pleasant to go out and preach the gospel to poor souls, of which some are thirsting for it, and others dying without it; pleasant in the week-day to think how near another Sabbath is ; but, oh! much, much more pleasant, to think how near eternity is, and how short the journey through this wilderness, and that it is but a step from earth to heaven.

I cannot forbear, in these circumstances, pausing a little, and considering whence this happy scene just at this time arises, and whither it tends. Whether God is about to bring upon me any peculiar trial, for which this is to prepare me; whether he is shortly about to remove me from the earth, and so is giving me more sensible prelibations of heaven, to prepare me for it; or whether he intends to do some peculiar services by me just at this time, which many other circumstances lead me sometimes to hope ; or whether it be that, in answer to your prayers, and in compassion to that distress which I must otherwise have felt in the absence and illness of her who has been so exceedingly dear

to me, and was never more sensibly dear to me than now, he is pleased to favor me with this teaching experience; in consequence of which, I freely own I am less afraid than ever of any event that can possibly arise, consistent with his nearness to my heart, and the tokens of his paternal and covenant love. I will muse no further on the cause. It is enough, the effect is so blessed.

les are adsanced to great and honorable increase. But if there | an danger at all to be apprehended on this head ; if you ** Le cirtain of becoming rich, and great, as you are of per

gud fatiguing yourself in the attempt, --consider, I beseech abs precarious these enjoyments are. Consider how often

reititutable becomes a snare, and that which would have been ni man's welfare becomes a trap. Forget not that short less in, mim comprehensive of the highest wisdom-ONE THING 18

DITL

THE SABBATU.

THE TRUE USE TO BE MADE OF GENIUS AND LEARNING. Hath God given you genius and learning? It was not that you might amuse or deck yourself with it, and kindle a blaze which should only serve to attract and dazzle the eyes of men. It was intended to be the means of leading both yourself and them to the Father of lights. And it will be your duty, according to the pe. culiar turn of that genius and capacity, either to endeavor to improve and adorn human life, or, by a more direct application of it to Divine subjects, to plead the cause of religion, to defend its truths, to enforce and recommend its practice, to deter men from courses which would be dishonorable to God and fatal to themselves, and to try the utmost efforts of all the solemnity and tenderness with which you can clothe your addresses, to lead them into the paths of virtue and happiness.

Lord of the Sabbath, hear our vows, On this by day, in this thy house; And own, as grateful sacrifice, The songs which from the desert rise, Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love; But there's a robler rest abore; To that our laboring souls aspire With ardent pangs of strong desire. No more fatigue, no more distress; Nor sin nor bell shall reach the place; No groans to mingle with the songs Which warble from immortal tongues. No mide alarms of raging foes; No cares to break the long repose; No milnicht shale, no cloudel sull}, But sarred, high, eternal noon. Olong-expected day, berin; Dawn on these realius of wo aad sin; Fain wouli we leave this weary pala And sleep in deathi, to rent wiili Gal.

SELF-EXAMINATION,

WORLDLY CARES. Young people are generally of an enterprising disposition : having experienced comparatively little of the fatigues of business, and of the disappointments and encumbrances of life, they easily swallow them up, and annihilate them in their imagination, and fancy that their spirit, their application, and address, will be able to encounter and surmount every obstacle or hinderance. But the event proves it otherwise. Let me entreat you, therefore, to be cautious how you plunge yourself into a greater variety of business than you are capable of managing as you ought, that is, in consistency with the care of your souls, and the service of God, which certainly ought not on any pretence to be neglected. It is true, indeed, that a prudent regard to your worldly interest will require such a caution; as it is obvious to every careful observer, that multitudes are undone by grasping at more than they can conveniently manage. Hence it has frequently been seen, that while they have seemed resolved to be rich, they have pierced themselves through with many sorrows, have ruined their own families, and drawn down many others into desolation with them. Whereas, could they have been contented with moderate employments, and moderate gains, they might have prospered in their business, and might, by sure degrees, under a Divine bless

Retum, my roving heart, return,

And chase these chalowy Drills to more Seck out some solitude to mour,

And thy forsaken God implore,

Wisdom and pleasure dwell at lun";

Retired and silent seek them there:
The conguest is ourselves toercoine,

True strength to break the tempter's share.

And thou, my God, whose piercing eye

Distinct surveys cach deep recese,
In these abetracted hours draw high,

And with thy presence all the place.

ROLL 1*** bymns the best London edition of Doldridge's works has been carefully tol 1890, the lys are Doddrudges and not the "mprovements of modern completa

ing, have advanced to great and honorable increase. But if there was no danger at all to be apprehended on this head ; if you were as certain of becoming rich, and great, as you are of perplexing and fatiguing yourself in the attempt,-consider, I beseech you, how precarious these enjoyments are. Consider how often a plentiful table becomes a snare, and that which would have been for a man's welfare becomes a trap. Forget not that short lesson, which is so comprehensive of the highest wisdom-ONE THING IS

NEEDFUL

THE SABBATH.1
Lord of the Sabbath, hear our vows,
On this tlıy day, in this thy house;
And own, as grateful sacrifice,
The songs which from the desert rise.
Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love;
But there's a nobler rest above;
To that our laboring souls aspire
With ardent pangs of strong desire.
No more fatigue, no more distress;
Nor sin nor hell shall reach the place;
No groans to mingle with the songs
Which warble from immortal tongues.
No rude alarms of raging foes;
No cares to break the long repose;
No midnight shade, no clouded sun,
But sacred, high, eternal noon.
O long-expected day, begin;
Dawn on these realms of wo and sin;
Fain would we leave this weary roal,
And sleep in death, to rest with Gol.

SELF-EXAMINATIOX.

Return, my roving beart, return,

And chase these shadowy forms no more;
Seck out some solitude to mourn,

And thy forsaken God implore.

Wisdom and pleasure dwell at hom';

Retired and silent seek them there:
True conquest is ourselves t'o'ercoine,

True strength to break the tempter's snare.

And thou, my God, whose piercing eye

Distinct surveys each deep recess,
In these abstracted hours draw nigh,

And with thy presence all the place.

1 In printing these hymns the best London edition of Doddridge's works has been carefully fol lowed. In a word, the hymns are Doddridge's, and not the improvements" of modern compilers of bynn-books.

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pel which gave him the highest reputation as a profound and original

Through all the mazes of my heart,

My search let heavenly wisdom guide
And still its radiant beams impart,

Till all be search'd and purified.
Then, with the visits of thy love,

Vouchsafe my inmost soul to cheer;
Till every grace shall join to prove

That God hath fix d his dwelling here.

tha urins prefements in the church, in 1736 he published his great
* *Tee Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitutun
2. verse di Nature." His object in it is to demonstrate the connection be
pate present and future state, and to show that there could be but one
call to al consequently but one general system of moral government
me te mit be regulated. In the execution of this task, his success
Lineagh were coniplete. He has brult up a solid granite rampart, of such
para el trength, fra the defence of revealed religion, that all the missiles
me from that lay to this, have been hurled against it in rain. In

Tas pastel to the bishopric of Bristol, and in 1750 to that of Dar.
listest pr-femment. He held this but a short time, as he died at

ENTERING INTO COVENANT.

O happy day, that fix'd my choice

On thee, my Saviour and my God!
Well may this glowing heart rejoice,

And tell its raptures all abroad.

O happy bond, that seals my vows

To Him, who merits all my love!
Let cheerful anthems fill the house,

While to that sacred shrine I move.

'Tis done; the great transaction's done:

I am my Lord's, and he is mine:
He drew me, and I follow'd on,

Charm'd to confess the voice divine.
Now rest, my long-divided heart,

Fix'd on this blissful centre, rest;
With ashes who would grudge to part,

When call'd on angels' bread to feast?
High Heaven, that heard the solemn vow,

That vow renew'd, shall daily hear:
Till, in life's latest hour, I bow,

And bless in death a bond so dear.

be character of Butler was everything that would be expected from his men li pety most ferrent, and of morals most pure, he lived the line Le pred the faith of the Christian. "No man," says his biographer, na mene boroughly possessed the meekness of wisdom. Neither the con

intellectual strength, nor the just reputation which he had thereby tes. we the elevated station to which he had been raised, in the slightest

wered the natural modesty of his character, or the mildness and
range of his temper." His liberality also was equal to his means. His
te le mondered as belonging to his station, and not to himself; and so

i was this feeling of his understood, that his relatives nerer in.
po de espectation of pecuniary benefit from his death. He well under-
kad be tne tee of money, that it is worthless and contemptible except as a
tors of dring good. It was his remark on his promotion to Durham: 1
w be a melancholy thing at the close of life to have no reflections to en-

en cone's self with, but that one had spent the revenues of the bishopric of
making in a sumptuous course of living, and enriched one's friends with the

bistra of it, instead of having really set one's self to do good, and to prom
AR Förlay men. How much such a character honors religion! How

JOSEPH BUTLER. 1692—1752.

JOSEPH BUTLER, the celebrated author of the “ Analogy," was born af Wantage, in Berkshire, in 1692. Being of a Presbyterian family, he was sent to the “dissenting” academy at Tewkesbury, with the view of entering the ministry. It was here that he gave the first proofs of the peculiar bent of his mind to abstruse speculations, in some acute and ingenious remarks on Dr. Samuel Clarke's “ Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God, in private letters addressed to the author. He also gave much attention to the points of controversy between the members of the established" church and the dissenters," the result of which was that he went over to the former. After some little opposition from his father, he was allowed to follow bis inclination, and in 1714 removed to Oxford. Having " taken orders," he was, in 1718, appointed preacher at the Rolls' Chapel, which station he occupied about eight years, when he published a volume of sermons delivered in that

his oposite disgraces it!
1 bbwing just and eloquent remarks upon the design of Butler's Ana-
Tiere taken from the admirable analysis of that great work by Bishop Wil-

prired to his edition of it!
* Wiscono Butler is one of those creative geniuses who give a character 10

et lines. His great work, The Analogy of Religion, has fixed the ad.
d (f all competent judges for nearly a century, and will continue to be

al so long as the language in which he wrote endures. The mind of 11
platit pervades in. The author chose a theme infinitely important, and le
na teated it with a skill, a force, a novelty and valent, which have left little
le tekens to do after him. He opened the mine and exhausted it himself
listehom which never oversteps the line of prudence, is in him united
Ra penetration which nothing can escape. There are in his writings a

i idea, a reach and generalization of reasoning, a native simplicity
el grandeur of thought, which command and fill the mind. At the same
en bis illustrations are so striking and familiar as to instruct as well as per

Nothing is violent, nothing far-fetched, nothing pushed beyond its fair th, willing Fanciful or weak: a masculine power of argument runs through

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18se also a mutescellent introduction to Butler's Analogy by Rev. Albert Marten.

chapel, which gave him the highest reputation as a profound and original thinker.

After various preferments in the church, in 1736 he published his great work, “The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature." His object in it is to demonstrate the connection between the present and future state, and to show that there could be but one author of both, and consequently but one general system of moral government by which they must be regulated. In the execution of this task, his success and triumph were complete. He has built up a solid granite rampart, of such height and strength, for the defence of revealed religion, that all the missiles of infidels, from that day to this, have been hurled against it in vain. In 1738 he was promoted to the bishopric of Bristol, and in 1750 to that of Dur. ham, the highest preferment. He held this but a short time, as he died at Bath in June, 1752.

The character of Butler was every thing that would be expected from his writings. Or piety most fervent, and of morals most pure, he lived the life, while he possessed the faith of the Christian. “No man,” says his biographer, lever more thoroughly possessed the meekness of wisdom. Neither the consciousness of intellectual strength, nor the just reputation which he had thereby attained, nor the elevated station to which he had been raised, in the slightest degree injured the natural modesty of his character, or the mildness and sweetness of his temper." His liberality also was equal to his means. His income he considered as belonging to his station, and not to himself; and so thoroughly was this feeling of his understood, that his relatives never indulged the expectation of pecuniary benefit from his death. He well understood the true use of money, that it is worthless and contemptible except as a means of doing good. It was his remark on his promotion to Durham : “ It would be a melancholy thing at the close of life to have no reflections to entertain one's self with, but that one had spent the revenues of the bishopric of Durham in a sumptuous course of living, and enriched one's friends with the promotions of it, instead of having really set one's self to do good, and to promote worthy men.” How much such a character honors religion! How much its opposite disgraces it!

The following just and eloquent remarks upon the design of Butler's Analogy are taken from the admirable analysis of that great work by Bishop Wilson, prefixed to his edition of it.!

“ Bishop Butler is one of those creative geniuses who give a character to their times. His great work, The Analogy of Religion,' has fixed the admiration of all competent judges for nearly a century, and will continue to be studied so long as the language in which he wrote endures. The mind of a master pervades it. The author chose a theme infinitely important, and he has treated it with a skill, a force, a novelty and talent, which have left little for others to do after him. He opened the mine and exhausted it himself: A discretion which never oversteps the line of prudence, is in him united with a penetration which nothing can escape. There are in his writings a vastness of idea, a reach and generalization of reasoning, a native simplicity and grandeur of thought, which command and fill the mind. At the same time, his illustrations are so striking and familiar as to instruct as well as persuade. Nothing is violent, nothing far-fetched, nothing pushed beyond its fair limits, nothing fanciful or weak: a masculine power of argument runs through

1 See also a most excellent introduction to Butler's Analogy by Rev. Albert Barnes.

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