cile them to the self-denial it enjoins; to teach them that he, who would follow Christ in his triumph, must follow him in his humiliation; and that it is only to them "that mourn," that a promise is given that "they shall be comforted."

But why are we thus instructed to subdue the most powerful emotions of our nature? Why are we told to look with fearful suspicion upon all that the world calls valuable? Why are we taught to cherish the feelings, which seem most repugnant to the constitution of man? Is the service of Christ, an unreasonable service? Is the doctrine of the cross, indeed foolishness? Are we endued with desires of happiness, only that they may become our torment? Have we a natural aversion from misery, only to increase the weight of suffering which we are destined to endure? When nature and reason equally prompt us to rejoice; with what propriety does religion tell us: "blessed are they that

mourn ?"

Is it not surprising that these questions

should

should be asked, by men who have seen the outward sacrifices of religion, but have never tasted its inward consolations: by men whose Christianity is a mere speculative opinion, and who have never viewed in it, the consoler of sorrow, the purifier of corruption, the guide to immortality. The reason that we cannot reconcile present affliction to the mercy of God, I mean with full and entire conviction of soul, is this: we form a false estimate of human life. By our profession of Christianity, we might be supposed to recognise the subserviency of time to eternity. But, in fact, we do no such thing. Religion may sometimes amuse our vacant moments. It may sometimes even affect our hearts by its touching truths. But our habitual temper is altogether worldly. We are educated for temporal advantage. We hope for temporal success. We are discouraged by temporal failure. We do not consider the blessings of life as means of promoting our eternal welfare; but we seek them for their own sake: we lend them a lustre and importance,

before

before which, even the concerns of eternity disappear. Hence, we are ready enough to embrace religion, while it does not interfere with our worldly pursuits, and has nothing to do with our daily enjoyments. We think it advisable to cherish a hope, which, while it allows us to be absorbed in all the interests of the passing hour, may be an asylum when those interests fail. But the deep and constant conviction, that this world is only a state of trial: that it is an education for eternity that every exercise, however painful, which tends to prepare us for Heaven, is salutary that every enjoyment, however exquisite, which endangers our spiritual state, is to be deplored: where is such a conviction to be found, but among a few pious and humble Christians, of whom the world is not worthy? These, do not need to learn "the uses of adversity." With hearts weaned from the selfish cares and unsatisfactory pleasures, which once engrossed them; with desires chastened by disappointment, and affections elevated by suffering: they

have experienced the truth of our Saviour's words: "blessed are they that mourn." With souls full of that inward peace, which the world can neither give nor take away; the sense of pardoning mercy, the hope of reconciliation with God, the expectation of eternal life; they have felt the faithfulness of our Saviour's promise: " they shall be comforted."

When the superior importance of eternity to time is sincerely believed, and the necessity of constant preparation for it established; the benefits of affliction are easily traced. The assertion of our Saviour, that "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of Heaven," like the rest of his assertions, is founded on truth and nature, and corroborated by experience. They, who are surrounded by the luxuries and enjoyments of life; do not feel their need of those richer treasures, which will survive,' when "the fashion of this world has passed away." They, who are surrounded by respect, and flattery, and applause; and all the deceitful

charms,

charms, which keep the soul ignorant of its weakness and its guilt; are very unwilling seriously to embrace a religious system, which teaches humility and self-abasement; which mortifies the pride of virtue, as well as the degradation of vice. They, who have not felt disappointment, disgust, and sorrow; are apt to rest satisfied with the state, which, to them, is a scene of success and gratification; and to be contentedly absorbed by those human connections, which draw them from communion with God. But they, who, "while the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, have not where to lay their heads:" they, who, in the absence of human enjoyment, cast their eyes round for something to fill the aching void: they, whom the unkindness of friends, and the persecution of enemies, have taught to seek better comforters and surer protection: they, whom sorrow has softened, and whom the severe but salutary voice of truth has taught humility: these are often led to the promises and consolations of the Gospel.

When