He was the first Prince in England that gave the humbling blow to proud Rome; thus shewing that the basest of men are made willing instruments in the hand of the Almighty, to perform what pleaseth him. Henry, as an individual, was an object of abhorrence and derision, but he was made the instrument of pouring out the wrath of the Almighty on the man of sin. The span of life is so short, and eternity of such duration, it must appal every thinking mind when they reflect on the havock committed on the human race by their fellow-menthat from time immemorial, war, with all its desolating train, should have existed. War breaks down all the principles of morality; destroys the accumulation of industry; and violates every principle of Christianity; it is sent a scourge on the earth, as a judgment for iniquity. London, though now the seat of peaceful industry, once was the site of turmoil and war; her citizens strengthened the hands of her governors, until tyrannic sway raised their arms to hurl the tyrant from his seat. The great physical power in the immediate site of government makes the citizens of London an object of desire or dread to their Princes.

The scenes of civil discord are now passed away, and none can deprive the sons of industry of the fruits of their labour by violence, without subjecting themselves to punishment. How happy the peaceful scene! there arts and science flourish,

and the combination of industry accumulates wealth, and wealth stimulates to industry.

Close by the Mint dwell the exiles of Palastine, far from the tombs of their fathers in Canaan's land. Their appearance bespeaks poverty and meanness, and their physiognomy betrays them amid London's fair citizens; the wrath of offended Heaven hath lowered in their countenance ever since they shed the innocent blood on Calvary's mount; they are living witnesses to the truth of prophecy, and that Shiloh is come. The sceptre was not to depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, until Shiloh came. Where now are their lawgivers, and where their sceptre? they are scattered throughout all nations, their temple destroyed, and their daily sacrifice taken away. They no more can ascend Olivet's steep to view their holy city Jerusalem, where the tribes of Israel assembled to celebrate Jehovah's praise. Strangers now drink at Siloa's fountain, and sport themselves in the valley of Jehosaphat. O Israel! many a heart hath bled for you; Jesus wept over your city at the prospect of the final desolation that hath come upon you, and his disciples lamented your blindness, not to see that Shiloh is come. Turn, O turn, sons of Jacob, turn to the Consolation! he alone is able to free you from bondage, and to place you amongst the princes of his people. As the Messiah in humble state, as the Father's servant he hath already

appeared, and he will again appear in triumph. That same Jesus who ascended from Mount Olivet in presence of his disciples, and who was received up into heaven, shall, in like manner, descend surrounded with thousands of angels; but who may abide the day of his coming? Who shall be able to stand the sudden apparition of his glory? for he comes not, like the babe of Bethlehem, to suffer, and to die for the sins of his people, but he comes in judgment, seated on a throne supernal, to judge the living and the dead. Bethlehem's Hospital brings to remembrance the impotency of man when left to the ravings of a disordered imagination. Insanity, dreadful malady! to be deprived of the glorious light of reason, which guides man in all the affairs of life, and, when enlightened by the word of God, makes choice of an eternal portion in the heavens. Deprived of this light, man is but little elevated above the brute creation; he is incapable of pursuing any system for his own good, or that of others. The poor maniac, stretched on the lonely couch of sorrow, spends his time in melancholy ravings of fancied happiness or ideal greatness; a great portion of them suppose themselves to be people of distinction. Might not this insanity be traced to pride, and should it not be an awful warning to others to beware of so dangerous a disposition? The constant indulgence of it renders mankind unable to meet the shocks of

life, and makes them feel many a blow the humble know not of. Too often they who have been in high spheres of life, and all of a sudden cast down, end their days in a madhouse. It is said great genius and insanity are nearly allied. That men of great talent frequently become insane, we have many examples of; but it may have arisen more from their preferring the flights of fancy to the sober dictates of reason in their studies, than any necessary connexion genius has to insanity. Mankind, in the state of nature, are often compared to the insane; they see the beauty of creation in all its forms, but they see not the God of nature; they behold the ever-changing scene of life, but they feel not the powers of the world to come. The sons of infidelity and deism may well be termed insane; they cast from them the only hope of safety in the hour of danger, by their rejection of Jesus, the rock of ages. In all their bewildering speculations, none of them can say, Here I rest on the basis of truth, which the revolution of ages cannot destroy. But the Christian can say, I stand on the rock of ages in safety, amid the changes of fleeting time, and the flood of never-ending eternity. Infidels, by their contempt of the gospel, destroy to themselves the only system that is capable of raising the soul of man to its original purity. They, like the madman, spend their days in imaginary schemes of future peace, without any other foundation for

their hope, than their own disordered imaginations; attributing qualifications to the Deity he utterly disavows, pleasing themselves with a being of their fancy, and a worship of their own will; but God declares, that there is no peace to the wicked; that without holiness, none shall behold him; and that obedience to his commands pleaseth him more than all the self-accumulated offerings of erring mortals. In the view to the north, St Bartholomew's Hospital is the most conspicuous building that strikes the eye. How kind is charity, and what are societies of men without it but barbarians? What though of old the philosophers could soar the sublime heights of metaphysics, and speculate on the immortality of the soul, if their researches were not made beneficial to society? Even in the height of Grecian learning and Roman power, they provided not asylums for the poor, nor infirmaries for the sick. The learning of the Greeks nursed their pride, and made them contemn the poor. The warlike prowess of the Romans made them encourage barbarous spectacles and rough manners; but no sooner did Jesus, the contemned Nazarean appear, than the wealthy sold their possessions to feed the poor, the healthy gave their time to the nursing of the sick, and his disciples devoted their lives to the benefit of mankind. When results so benevolent in effect, and so universal in power, sprung from the preaching of the simple doctrine