up to mult which it creates, by means of a thousand false arguments which it forms, and brings to its aid. Of some passions, such as anger and resentment, the excess is so obviously dangerous, as loudly to call for moderation. He who gives himself the impetuosity of such passions, without restraint, is universally condemned by the world; and hardly accounted a man of sound mind. But, what is less apt to be attended to, some even of those passions which are reckoned innocent, or whose tendency to disorder and evil is not apparent, stand, nevertheless, in need of moderation and restraint, as well as others. For such is the feebleness of our nature, that every passion which has for its object any worldly good, is in hazard of attaching us too strongly, and of transporting us beyond the bounds of reason. If allowed to acquire the full and unrestrained dominion of the heart, it is sufficient, in various situations, to render us miserable; and almost in every situation, by its engrossing power, to render us negligent of duties which, as men or Christians, we are bound to perform. Of the insidious growth of passion, therefore, we have great reason to beware. We ought always to have at hand considerations, which may assist us in tempering its warmth and in regaining possession of our souls. Let us be persuaded, that moments of passion are always moments of delusion; that nothing truly is, what it then seems to be; that all the opinions which we then form, are erroneous; and all the judgments which we pass, are extravagant. Let moderation accustom us to wait until the fumes of passion be spent ; until the mist which it has raised begin to be dissipated. We shall then be able to see where truth and right lie; and reason shall, by degrees, resume the ascendant. On no occasion let us imagine, that strength of mind is shown by violence of passion. This is not the strength of men, but the impetuosity of children. It is the strength of one who is in the delirium of a fever, or under the disease of madness. The strength of such a person is indeed increased. But it is an unnatural strength; which being under no proper guidance, is directed towards objects that occasion his destruction. True strength of mind is shown in governing and resisting passion; not in giving it scope; in restraining the wild beast within; and acting on the most trying occasions, according to the dictates of conscience, and temperate reason. THUS I have pointed out, in several instances, how moderation ought to be displayed: moderation in our wishes; moderation in our pursuits; moderation in our hopes; moderation in our pleasures; moderation in our passions. It is a principle which should habitually influence our conduct, and form the reigning temperature of the soul. The great motive to this virtue is suggested by the words immediately following the text; the Lord is at hand. The Judge is coming, who is to close this temporary scene of things, and to introduce a higher state of existence. The day is at hand, which will place the great concerns of men in a point of view very different from that in which they are at present beheld; will strip the world of its false glory; will detect the vanity of earthly pursuits; and disclose objects which have the proper title to interest a rational mind. Objects acquire power to engage our passions only in proportion as they are conceived to be great. But great, or little, are no more than terms of comparison. Those things which appear great to one who knows nothing greater, will sink into a diminutive size, when he becomes acquainted with objects of a higher nature. Were it oftener in our thoughts, that the Lord is at hand, none of those things which now discompose and agitate worldly men, would appear of sufficient magnitude to raise commotion in our breasts. Enlarged views of the future destination of man, and of the place which he may hope to possess in an eternal world, naturally give birth to moderation of mind. They tend to cool all misplaced ardour about the advantages of this state; and to produce that calm and temperate frame of spirit, which becomes men and Christians. They give no ground for entire disregard of earthly concerns. While we are men, we must feel and act as such. But they afford a good reason why they who believe the Lord to be at hand, should let their moderation appear and be known unto all men. SERMON XLIII. ON THE JOY, AND THE BITTERNESS OF THE HEART. The heart knoweth his own bitterness, and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy.-PROVERBS, xiv. 10. IT is well known, that men have always been much inclined to place their happiness in the advantages of fortune, and the distinctions of rank. Hence these have been pursued by the multitude with such avidity, that every principle of honour, probity, and virtue, have been sacrificed to the attainment of them. At the same time, many circumstances might have convinced men, that supposing them to be successful in the pursuit, it by no means followed that happiness was to be the reward. For if happiness be, in truth, essentially connected with splendid fortune, or exalted rank, how comes it to pass, that many, in the inferior stations of life, visibly spend their days with more eomfort, than they who occupy the higher departments of the world? Why does the beggar sing, while the king is sad? A small measure of reflection on our nature might satisfy us, that there are other principles of happiness or misery, too often overlooked by the world, which immediately affect the heart, and operate there with greater force and power than any circumstances of rank or fortune. This is the observation of the wise man in the text; and what I now purpose to illustrate. I shall take a view of the chief sources of that bitterness which the heart knoweth, and of that joy with which a stranger doth not intermeddle; and then shall point out the proper improvements to be made of the subject. If we enquire carefully into the sources of the joy or bitterness of the heart, we shall find that they are chiefly two: that they arise either from a man's own mind and temper; or, from the connection in which he stands with some of his fellow-creatures. In other words, the circumstances which most essen nan tacciness, are, his personal character and TATTI Ind and temper is necessarily to hime: i mure of men wart oy or bierness. For every man, i ve mave alower de cression, is more connected with nnel tim with any external soject He is constantly a comTunon u ruset is TW1 cents: and what he meets with tere, met, a al tas marine most to his happiness, or Is 6. Fee is on in the world be, whether Leti e int was D gerad himself for his be octet proceeds upon a rabedent to humanity, his reproach, and his mind un- Y p* İsa Yss of inity; the foundation is off to this you add ence, it easily fretted or disturbed, not our prize ʼn moient passion, much of that joy TRIM VIR Is the text, a stranger interFrass & intrinsie joy, independent of The vangit man, as it is written, is satisbastarted by the vexations of folly, or the Tenure I put is s peaceful, and his days seEs not sa karam to itself. A good conscience, and got umger, prepare, even in the midst of poverty, a con but how sady wil the scene be reversed, if the first thoughts #lart occur to a man concerning himself, shall be of a gloomy and threatening kind; if his temper, instead of calmness and self-en gryment, shall yield him nothing but disquiet and painful ammation! In any situation of fortune, is it possible for him to be happy, whose mind is in this troubled state? The spirit of a than will sustain his infirmities; but a wounded spirit who can bear? Vigour of mind may enable a man to sustain many shocks of adversity. In his spirit, as long as it is sound, he can But if that which find a resource, when other auxiliaries fail. should sustain him be enfeebled and broken; if that to which he has recourse for the cure of other sorrows, become itself the wounded part; to what quarter can be turn ààr re'ler The wounds which the spirit ses are onung chiody to three The equent origi causes: to folly, to passion, em giù soul sau, imaraner pursuits, nate from foly, than in Pam se pismimaht to a man's which, though paceW) esILIRUA In onsequence of Vans Chornton, or ganglion, it the ARNA, ani suftres the 2^ving by Achala himol, aqMEN lowed to take possession of the heart. Even though it be of the class of those which are reckoned innocent, yet if it have entirely seized and overpowered a man, it destroys his tranquillity, and brings his mind into a perturbed state. But if it be a passion of the black and vicious kind, it is sufficient to blast the most flourishing condition, and to poison all his joys. If to those wounds inflicted by folly, or by passion, you add the wound of guilt, the remorse and fear produced by criminal deeds, you fill up the measure of pain and bitterness of heart. Often have the terrors of conscience occasioned inward paroxysms, or violent agitations of mind. A dark and threatening cloud seems, to the conscious sinner, to be hanging over his head. He who believes himself despised, or hated, by men, and who dreads at the same time an avenging God, can derive little pleasure from the external comforts of life. The bitterness of his heart infuses itself into every draught which pleasure offers to his lips. The external misfortunes of life, disappointments, poverty, and sickness, are nothing in comparison of those inward distresses of mind, occasioned by folly, by passion, and by guilt,. They may indeed prevail in different degrees, according as one or other of those principles of bitterness is predominant. But they are seldom parted far asunder from one another; and when, as it too often happens, all the three are complicated, they complete the misery of man. The disorders of the mind, having then arisen to their height, become of all things the most dreadful. The shame of folly, the violence of passion, and the remorse of guilt, acting in conjunction, have too frequently driven men to the last and abhorred refuge, of seeking relief in death from a life too embittered to be any longer endured. I proceed to consider, II. OTHER troubles and other joys of the heart, arising from sources different from those that I have now described; founded in the relations or connections which we have with others, and springing from the feelings which these occasion. Such causes of sorrow or joy are of an external nature. Religion does not teach that all the sources of inward pleasure or pain are derived from our temper and moral behaviour. These are indeed the principal springs of bitterness or joy. In one way or other, they affect all the pleasures and pains of life; but they include not, within themselves, the whole of them. Our Creator did not intend, that the happiness of each individual should have no dependance on those who are around him. Having connected us in society by many ties, it is his decree, that these ties should prove, both during their subsistence, and in their dissolution, causes of pleasure or pain, immediately, and often deeply, affecting the human heart. My doctrine, therefore, is not, that the |