VII.

to which the human state is subject. This SERMON is the severest of all mortifications; after having been successful in the pursuit, to be baffled in the enjoyment itself. Yet this is found to be an evil still more general than the former. Some may be so fortunate as to attain what they have pursued; but none are rendered completely happy by what they have attained. Disappointed hope is misery; and yet successful hope is only imperfect bliss. Look through all the ranks of mankind. Examine the condition of those

who appear most prosperous; and you will find that they are never just what they desire to be. If retired, they languish for action; if busy, they complain of fatigue. If in middle life, they are impatient for distinction; if in high stations, they sigh after freedom and ease. Something is still wanting to that plenitude of satisfaction which they expected to acquire. Together with every wish that is gratified, a new demand arises. One void opens in the heart, as another is filled. On wishes, wishes grow; and to the end, it is rather the expectation of what they have not, than the enjoyment

of

SERMON of what they have, which occupies and interests the most successful.

VII.

This dissatisfaction, in the midst of human pleasure, springs partly from the nature of our enjoyments themselves, and partly from circumstances which corrupt them. No worldly enjoyments are adequate to the high desires and powers of an immortal spirit. Fancy paints them at a distance with splendid colours; but possession unveils the fallacy. The eagerness of passion bestows upon them at first a brisk and lively relish. But it is their fate always to pall by familiarity, and sometimes to pass from satiety into disgust. Happy would the poor man think himself if he could enter on all the treasures of the rich; and happy for a short while he might be; but before he had long contemplated and admired his state, his possessions would seem to lessen, and his cares would grow.

Add to the unsatisfying nature of our pleasures, the attending circumstances which never fail to corrupt them. For, such as they are, they are at no time possessed unmixed. To human lips it is not given to

taste

VII.

taste the cup of pure joy. When external SERMON circumstances show fairest to the world, the envied man groans in private under his own burden. Some vexation disquiets, some passion corrodes him; some distress, either felt or feared, gnaws, like a worm, the root of his felicity. When there is nothing from without to disturb the prosperous, a secret poison operates within. For worldly happiness ever tends to destroy itself, by corrupting the heart. It fosters the loose and the violent passions. It engenders noxious habits; and taints the mind with a false delicacy, which makes it feel a thousand unreal evils.

BUT put the case in the most favourable light. Lay aside from human pleasures both disappointment in pursuit, and deceitfulness in enjoyment; suppose them to be fully attainable, and completely satisfactory; still there remains to be considered the vanity of uncertain possession and short duration, Were there in worldly things any fixed point of security which we could gain, the mind would then have some basis on which to rest. But our condition is such,

SERMON that every thing wavers and totters around

VII.

us. Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou
knowest not what a day may bring forth. It
is much if, during its course, thou hearest
not of somewhat to disquiet or alarm thee.
For life never proceeds long in an uniform
train. It is continually varied by unex-
pected events. The seeds of alteration

are every where sown;
and the sunshine
of prosperity commonly accelerates their
growth. If your enjoyments be numerous,
you lie more open on different sides to
be wounded. If
If you have possessed them
long, you have greater cause to dread an
approaching change. By slow degrees pro-
sperity rises; but rapid is the progress of
evil. It requires no preparation to bring it
forward. The edifice which it cost much
time and labour to erect, one inauspicious
event, one sudden blow, can level with the
dust. Even supposing the accidents of life
to leave us untouched, human bliss must
still be transitory; for man changes of him-
self. No course of enjoyment can delight
us long. What amused our youth, loses its
charm in maturer age. As years advance,
our powers are blunted, and our pleasurable
feelings

VII.

feelings decline. The silent lapse of time SERMON is ever carrying somewhat from us, till at length the period comes when all must be swept away. The prospect of this termination of our labours and pursuits is sufficient to mark our state with vanity. Our days are a hand-breadth, and our age is as nothing. Within that little space is all our enterprise bounded. We crowd it with toils and care, with contention and strife. We project great designs, entertain high hopes, and then leave our plans unfinished, and sink into oblivion.

Thus much let it suffice to have said concerning the vanity of the world. That too much has not been said, must appear to every one who considers how generally mankind lean to the opposite side; and how often, by undue attachment to the present state, they both feed the most sinful passions, and pierce themselves through with many sorrows. Let us proceed to inquire,

II. How this vanity of the world can be reconciled with the perfections of its divine Author. This inquiry involves that great difficulty

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