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soul; and, on the other, to fill the soul with Disco such ideas, sentiments, and affections, as may produce a like benign and kindly influence on the body. In general the practice of mankind, alas, is exactly the reverse. They indulge passions in the soul, which des stroy the health of the body; and introduce distempers into the body, which clog and obstruct the faculties of the soul.
But the difficulties and hardships to be encountered in a course of self-denial, it will still be said, perhaps, are very disccuraging. The objection may be in some measure ob
viated by a
Fourtb argument on it's behalf, deduced from the examples frequently set us by the men of the world.
Our blessed master has observed, that " the children of this world are in their
generation wifer than the children of
light.” It may be said, with equal truth, that they have generally more zeal, more VOL. III.
c. fortitude, more patiences and perfeverance. VII. There is not a votary of wealth, pleasure,
power, or fame, who cannot, and who does not, upon occasion, practise a self-denial, which few Christians can be prevailed upon to practise, in a much better cause; a selfdenial more severe and rigid indeed, than they are often called upon to practise.
For the fake of collecting what is never to be used, and adding to his beloved heap, the miser will forego the comforts, the conveniences, and almost the necessaries of existence, and voluntarily submit, all his days, to the penances and austerities of a mendicant.
The discipline of a life in fashion is by no means of the mildest kind ; and it is common to meet with those, who complain of being worn down, and ready to sink under it. But how can they help it? What can they do? They are driven and compelled to it; they are faft bound by the adamantine chains of a necessity--not phil
Sopbical fapbical indeed but one equally inexorable Disc. and irrefiftible.
Consider the vigils and the abstinence of the gamester. To discharge with propriety the duties of his profession, it is expedient that he keep his habit cool, and his head clear. His diet is therefore almost as spare as that of St. John in the wilderness, and he drinks neither wine, nor strong drink ; left, instead of his cheating his friend, his friend should cheat him.
Consider the toil and the fatigue willingly undergone by one, whose delight is placed in the sports of the field, and the pleasures of the chafe. How early does he rise! How late is he abroad! “ In hunger and thirst, “ in fastings often, in cold and rain. None “ of these things move him, neither counts “ he his life dear unto himself,” being well content often to put it to the extremest hazard.
Look at the aspirant to power : He wears a countenance always suited to the present
DISC. occasion. " No fymptom of inward uneasi
ness is suffered to appear in it. He holds his passions in the most absolute subjection. “ Hitherto (fays he to every one of them) “ shalt thou come, but no farther." He takes patiently and cheerfully affronts and insults. He bears and forbears. Can the Stoic, can the inhabitant of le Trappe do more? Exemplary instances of mortificaa tion and self-denial are not confined to the desart, or to the cloister. They may be found in a court.
How often does the candidate for literary fame pursue his proposition, or his problem, or his system, regardless of food and reit, till his eyes fail, his nerves are shattered, his fpirits are exhausted, and his health is gone! But greater things than these are ftill behind.
2011. u tu tida
.. . At the call of honour, a young man of family and fortune, accustomed to the gratifications of the table, and a life of ease and voluptuoufness, quits 'every valuable and ten
der connection at home, and submits, at once DISC. to all the painful duties and hard fare of a camp, in an enemy's country. He travels through dreary swamps, and inhospitable forests, guided only by the track of savages. He traverses mountains, he passes and repasses rivers, and marches, several hundred miles, with scarcely bread to eat, or change of raiment to put on. When night comes, he sleeps on the ground, or perhaps sleeps not at all j. and at the dawn of day resumes his labour. At length, he is so fortunate as to find his enemy. He braves death, amid all the horrors of the field. He sees his companions fall around him — he is wounded, and carried into a tent, or laid in a waggon; where he is left to suffer pain and anguish, with the noise of destruction founding in his ears. After some weeks, he recovers, and enters afresh upon duty.--And does the Captain of thy falvation, Othou who styleft thyself the soldier and servant of Je
sus Christ - does He require any thing like this, at thy hands ? Or canst thou deem him an auftere Master, because thou art