sure of God. They can do little to support you in the hour of affliction, and nothing to deliver your souls in the day of death. Forsaken and disconsolate, the world, for the most part, casts off its votaries in the end; and when you compute the final amount, it will prove a very small consolation, that, as you have had sharers in guilt, you shall have companions also in punish

ment.

Look forward to the issue of things. The multitude of men possess now, in a great measure, the distribution of praise and censure, of success and disappointment, according to their caprice. But this confused and promiscuous distribution is not always to subsist. The day cometh, when we all are to appear before a more discerning Judge, and a more impartial tribunal. The day cometh, when our Lord Jesus Christ shall descend from heaven in all the glory of his Father, to unveil every character, and to render to every man according to his works. At that day, how shall he lift up his head, who hath been all his life the slave of the world's opinion; who hath moulded his principles, and his practice, solely to please the multitude; who hath been ashamed of his Saviour and his words; and, to gain favour with men, hath apostatised from the native sentiments and dictates of his heart? -To say all in one word: there is a contest now between God and the world. These form the opposite sides which divide mankind. Consider well, to which of these you will choose to adhere. On the one side, lie your allegiance, your honour, and your interest: on the other, lie your guilt and your shame. For the one, conscience and reason; for the other, passion and inclination, plead. On the one hand are the approbation of God, immortal honour, and divine rewards; on the other,-remember and beware!—are the stings of conscience, endless punishment, and endless infamy.

SERMON LXX.

ON THE WISDOM OF GOD.*

Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory, for ever and ever! Amen.—1 TIMOTHY, 1. 17.

IT is of the highest importance to religious conduct, that our minds be filled with suitable conceptions of the attributes of God. They are the foundations of our reverence for him; and reverence is the foundation of religion. All the divine perfections are interesting to man. Almighty power, in conjunction with Eternity and Omnipresence, naturally inspires solemn awe. Infinite Goodness relieves the mind from that oppression which Power alone would produce; and, from our experience of present benefits, and our remembrance of the past, creates love, gratitude, and trust. In the middle between these stands the contemplation of Divine Wisdom, which conjoins impressions of awe with those of comfort; and, while it humbles us into profound submission, encourages, at the same time, our reliance on that King eternal, immortal, invisible, who is justly stiled in the text, the only wise God.

Among men, wisdom is a quality entirely different from cunning or craft. It always supposes good and fair intention in the person who possesses it; and imports, that laudable ends are pursued by proper and justifiable means. In like manner, wisdom in the Supreme Being cannot be separated from the rectitude of his nature- It is, in him, an exertion of benevolence; and imports, that the purposes of justice and goodness are car

This discourse was chiefly intended to be a general recapitulation of instances of the wisdom of Providence, several of which have been more fully illustrated in some of the preceeding Sermons.

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ried on and accomplished by means the most effectual. meditate on some of those instances in which this divine wisdom is displayed cannot but be highly favourable to the impressions both of piety and of virtue.

IT is difficult to say, whether the natural, or the moral world affords the most conspicuous and striking displays of the wisdom of God. Not one, nor many discourses, nor indeed the study and labour of a whole life, were, in any degree, sufficient to explore them. Of the proofs of wisdom which the natural world affords I cannot attempt now to discourse. Any illustration of these would lead to discussions of a scientific kind, which more properly belong to the philosopher; and on which philosophy has often employed itself, with much utility and honour. I shall only take notice, that, in proportion as human knowledge hath enlarged its sphere of research and discovery, in the same proportion hath the wisdom of the Creator struck the minds of all enquirers and observers, with the highest admiration. All nature is in truth a scene of wonders. In the disposition of the heavenly bodies, and the general arrangement of the system of the universe; in the structure of the earth; in the endless variety of living creatures that fill it; and in the provision made for them all, to enable them to fulfil the ends of their being; it is not easy to determine, whether power, wisdom, or goodness, be most conspicuous. It belongs not only to the heavens to declare the glory of God, and to the firmament to shew forth his handy work; in the smallest and most inconsiderable, as well as in the most illustrious works of God, equal marks appear of profound design and consummate art. It has been justly said, that there is not a vegetable that grows, nor an insect that moves, but what is sufficient to confound the atheist, and to afford the candid observer endless materials of devout adoration and praise.

WHEN we turn to the moral world, the field of admiration which opens to us is no less extensive and striking. I can only mention a few instances of that exquisite wisdom which every where meet us.

In the first place, let us attend to the constitution of human nature. Though we are taught by revelation to consider it as now impaired by the fall, yet as it stands we behold the traces of a noble structure, planned and executed with the highest skill. All the powers and faculties bestowed on man are such, as perfectly suit his condition, and adapt him to the purposes for which he was designed. Senses were given him, that he might distinguish what is necessary for the preservation and welfare of his body.Now, suppose that any one of those senses, the sight, for instance, or the hearing, or the touch, had been in a considerable degree either more blunt, or more acute, than it is at present, what an unhappy change would this have made upon

our state? On the one hand, greater imperfection of the organs would have deprived us of all the comfort and advantage which we now enjoy from such powers. On the other hand, a greater degree of exquisite sensibility in them would have rendered life a burden to us. Our senses, instead of being inlets to knowledge and pleasure, would then have become constant avenues to uneasiness and pain. Their powers, therefore, are skilfully adjusted to that measure of strength, which allows them to answer the purposes of health, safety, and comfort; without either falling short of this line of usefulness, or improperly, and hurtfully, stretching beyond it.

In the mind, appetites and passions were placed, as the moving powers of the soul, to impel its activity. But as their impulse required regulation and restraint, reason was, at the same time, conferred as the directing power. Of all our passions, self-love and the desire of self-preservation were, with the utmost propriety, made the strongest, for a reason which the meanest capacity may comprehend. Every man is most immediately committed by Providence to his own care and charge. He knows his own situation best; and has more opportunities of promoting his own happiness, than he can have of advancing the happiness of any other person. It was therefore fit and wise, that, by the strongest instinct, he should be prompted to attend to himself.At the same time, as no man standing alone is sufficient for his own welfare, it was necessary that by mutual sympathy and social instincts, we should be drawn to give aid to one another. Here it deserves our particular notice, that the force of those soeial instincts is, with admirable propriety, proportioned by Providence to the degree of their usefulness and importance.* Thus, that parental affection, which the helpless state of infancy and childhood renders so needful, is made the strongest of them all. Next, come those ties of blood, which prompt mutual kindness among those who are intimately joined together by brotherhood, and other family connections. To these succeeds that valuable instinct of pity, which impels us to assist the distressed, whereever we behold them. To take part with others in their good fortune belongs to man's social nature, and increases the sum of happiness. At the same time, to take part with the prosperous is less necessary than to sympathize with the unhappy; and therefore the principle which prompts us to rejoice with them that rejoice, is made not to be so strong, as that which impels us to weep with them that weep.

But they are not only the laudable and important parts of our disposition, which discover the wisdom of the Author of our frame; even our imperfections and follies are by him rendered

See Serm. XXXII,

subservient to useful ends.-Amidst those inequalities of condition, for instance, which the state of human life required, where it was necessary that some should be rich, and others poor, that some should be eminent and distinguished, and others obscure and mean, how seasonable is that good opinion, which every one entertains of himself, that self-complacency with which he compares himself to others; and that fond hope, which is ever pleasing him with the prospect of future pleasures and advantages in life? Without those flattering sensations, vain as they often are, how totally insupportable would this world become to many of its inhabitants? Whereas, by means of them, Providence hath contrived to balance, in a great measure, the inequalities of condition among mankind. It hath contrived to diffuse pleasure through all ranks; and to bring the high and the low nearer to a level with each other, than might at first be supposed. It hath smoothed the most rugged tracts of human life; and hath gilded with rays of borrowed light its most dreary scenes.

One instance of Divine Wisdom, in framing our nature, is so remarkable as to demand particular attention; that is, the measure according to which God hath dispensed knowledge and ignorance to man. There is nothing of which we are more ready to complain, than of our narrow and confined views of nature, and of Providence, and of all things around us: And yet upon examination, it will be found, that our views extend, on every side, just as far as they ought; and that, to see and know more than is allowed us, instead of bringing any advantage, would produce certain misery.We pry, for instance, with impatient curiosity, into future events. Happily for us, they are veiled and covered up; and one peep behind that veil, were it permitted, would be sufficient to poison the whole comfort of our days, by the anticipation of sorrows to come.-In like manner, we often wish, with eagerness to penetrate into the secrets of nature, to look into the invisible world, and to be made acquainted with the whole destiny of man. Our wish is denied; we are environed on all hands with mystery; and that mystery is our happiness; for, were those great invisible objects fully disclosed, the sight of them would confound and overwhelm us. It would either totally derange our feeble faculties, or would engross our attention to such a degree, as to lay us aside from the business and concerns of this world. It would have the same effect, as if we were carried away from the earth, and mingled among the inhabitants of some other planet. -The knowledge that is allowed to us, was designed to fit as for acting our part in our preAt the exact point, therefore, where usefulness ends, knowledge stops, and ignorance commences. Light shines upon

sent state.

* See Serm. IV. and Serm. LIX.