beings to which he belongs; in a word, we must look to the inind and the soul. 7. A mind superior to fear, to selfish interest and corruption; a mind governed by the principles of uniform rectitude and integrity; the same in prosperity and adversity; which no bribe can seduce, nor terror overawe ; neither by pleasure melted into effeminacy, nor by distress sunk into dejection: such is the mind which forms the distinction and eminence of man. 8. One, who in no situation of life, is either ashamed or afraid of discharging his duty, and acting his proper part with firmness and constancy; true to the God whom he worships, and true to the faith in which he professes to believe, full of affection to his brethren of mankind; faithful to his friends, generous to his enemies, warn with compassion to the unfortunate; self-denying to little private inte! ests and pleasures, but zealous for public interest and happiness; magnanimous, without being proud; humble, without being nrean; just, without being harsh; simple in his manners, but manly in his feelings; on whose words we can entirely rely; whose countenance never deceives us; whose professions of kindness are the effusions of his heart: one, in fine, whom, independent of any views of advantage, we would choose for a superior, could trust in as a friend, and could love as a brotherthis is the man, whom in our heart, above all others, we do, we must honour. BLAIR. De-vo-tion, de-vo'-shin, piety, respect, worship E-qua-ble, è'-kwa-bl, equal to itself, even Tur-bu-lent, tårʼ-bà-lênt, tumultuous, violent Bain, båm, the juice of an odorife Wound, w88nd, a hurt given by vi- sy The influence of devotion on the happiness of life. 1. WHATEVER promotes and strengthens virtue, whatever calms and regulates the temper, is a source of hap piness. Devotion produces these effects in a remarkable degree. It inspires composures of spirit, mildness, and benignity: weakens the painful, and cherishes the pleasing emotions; and, by these means, carries on the life of a pious man in a smooth and placid tenor. 2. Besides exerting this habitual influence on the mind, devotion opens a field of enjoyments to which the vicious are entire strangers; enjoyments the more valuable, as they peculiarly belong to retirement, when the world leaves us; and to adversity, when it becomes our foe. These are the two seasons, for which every wise man would most wish to provide some hidden store of comfort. 3. For let him be placed in the most favourable situation which the human state admits, the world can neither always amuse him, nor always shield him from distress. There will be many hours of vacuity, and many of dejection in his life. If he be a stranger to God, and to devotion, how dreary will the gloom of solitude often prove! With what oppressive weight will sickness, disappointment, or old age, fall upon his spirits. 4. But for those pensives periods, the pious man has a relief prepared. From the tiresome repetition of the common vanities of life, or from the painful corrosion of its cares and sorrows, devotion transports him into a new region; and surrounds him there with such objects, as are the most fitted to cheer the dejection, to calm the tumults, and to heal the wounds of his heart. If the world has been empty and delusive, it gladdens him with the prospect of a higher and better order of things, about to rise. 5. If men have been ungrateful and base, it displays before him the faithfulness of that Supreme Being, who, though every other friend fail, will never forsake him. Let us consult our experience, and we shall find, that the two greatest sources of inward joy, are, the exercise of love directed towards a deserving object, and the exercise of hope terminating on some high and assured happiness. Both these are supplied by devotion; and therefore we have no reason to be surprised, if, on some occasions, it fills the hearts of good men with a satisfaction not to be expressed. 6. The refined pleasures of a pious mind, are, in many respects, superior to the coarse gratifications of sense. They are pleasures which belong to the highest powers and best affections of the soul; whereas the gratifications of sense reside in the lowest region of our nature. To the latter, the soul stoops below its native dignity. The former, raises it above itself. The latter, leave always a comfortless, often a mortifying, remembrance behind them. The former, are renewed with applause and delight. 7. The pleasures of sense resemble a foaming torrent which, after a disoerly course, speedily runs out, and leaves an empty and offensive channel. But the pleasures of devotion resemble the equable current of a pure river, which enlivens the fields through which it passes, and diffuses verdure and fertility along its banks. 8. To thee, O Devotion! we owe the highest improvement of our nature, and much of the enjoyment of our life. Thou art the support of our virtue, and the rest of our souls, in this turbulent world. Thou composest the thoughts. Thou calmest the passions. Thou exaltest the heart. Thy communications, and thine only, are imparted to the low, no less than to the high; to the poor as well as to the rich. 9. In thy presence, worldly distinctions cease; and under thy influence, worldly sorrows are forgotten. Thou art the balm of the wounded" mind. Thy sanctuary is ever open to the miserable; inaccessible only to the unrighteous and impure. Thou beginnest on earth the temper of heaven. In thee, the hosts of angels and blessed spirits eternally rejoice. SECTION XIV. a Ter-res-tri-al, tèr-rẻs'-trè-ál, earthly,k not celestial Lu-mi-nous, iù'-me-nos, shining bright Al-ter-nate-ly, ál-têr'-nåte-lè, in recip rocal succession dOr-bit, orbit, the line described by the! revolution of a planet e Mys-tick, mis'-tik, emblematical, obscure, secret f Dis-pen-ser, dis-pên'-sur, one who dispenses g Mu-nif-i-eence, mù-nif'-fè-sense, liberality, generosity k A-gen-cy, '-jen-sè, the quality o state of acting Ax-le, ák'-sl, the pin which passes through the midst of a wheel j Re-splen-dent, rè-splên'-dênt, bright, shining (n BLAIR. Cir-cum-fe-rence, ser-kån--rénse, space, circl Es-ti-mate, es-te-måte, to adjust the value of m Prodigious, prò-did'-jås, monstrous, amazing E-nor-mous, &-nor′-mås, exceedingly large, wicked o Ma-chine, má-shèèn', an engine, carriage p Cen-tre, sen'-tůr, the middle, middle point t Ir-ra-di-ate, r-rå'-dé-àte, to adoru with light Di-min-u-tive, dè-min'-nů-tiv, small, _ s Pat-ri-men-y, pát-tre-min-nè, av es- The planetary and terrestrial worlds comparatively considered. 1. To us, who dwell on its surface, the earth is by far the most extensive orb that our eyes can any where behold it is also clothed with verdure, distinguished by trees, and adorned with a variety of beautiful decorations; whereas, to a spectator placed on one of the planets, it wears a uniform aspect; looks all luminous; and no larger than a spot. To beings who dwell at still greater distances, it entirely disappears. That which we call alternately the morning and evening star, (as in one part of the orbit she rides foremost in the procession of night, in the other ushers in and anticipates the dawn,) is a planetary werld. 2. This planet and the four others that so wonderfully vary their mystice dance, are in themselves dark bodies, and shine only by reflection: have fields, and seas, and skies, of their own; are furnished with all accommodations for animal subsistence, and are supposed to be the abodes of intellectual life; all which, together with our earthly habitation, are dependent on that grand dispenser of Divine munificence, the sun; receive their light from the distribution of his rays, and derive their comfort from his benign agency. 3. The sun, which seems to perform its daily stages through the sky, is in this respect fixed and immoveaole it is the great axle of heaven, about which the globe we inhabit, and other more spacious orbs, wheel their stated courses. The sun, though seemingly smaller than the dial it illuminates, is abundantly larger than this whole earth, on which so many lofty mountains rise, and such vast oceans roll. 4. A line extending from side to side through the centre of that resplendent orb, would measure more than eight hundred thousand miles: a girdle formed to go round its circumference, would require a length of millions. Were its solid contents to be estimated, the ac count would overwhelm our understanding, and be almost beyond the power of language to express. Are we startled at these reports of philosophy! 5. Are we ready to cry out in a transport of surprise. "How mighty is the Being who kindled so prodigious a fire; and keeps alive, from age to age, so enormous" a mass of flame!" let us attend our philosophical guides, and we shall be brought acquainted with speculations more enlarged and more inflaming. 6. This sun with all its attendant planets, is but a very little part of the grand machine of the universe: every star, though in appearance no bigger than the diamond that glitters upon a lady's ring, is really a vast glube, like the sun in size and in glory; no less spacious, no less luminous than the radiant surce of day. So that every star, is not barely a world, but the centrer of a magnificent system; has a retinue of worlds irradiated by its beams, and revolving round its attractive influence, all of which are lost to our sight in unmeasurable wilds of eth er. 7. That the stars appear like so many diminutive, and scarcely distinguishable points, is owing to their immense and inconceivable distance. Immense and inconceivable indeed it is, since a ball, shot from the loaded cannon, and flying with unabated rapidity, must travel, at this impetuous rate, almost seven hundred thousand years, before it could reach the nearest of these twinkling luminaries. 8. While, beholding this vast expanse, I learn my own extreme meanness, I would also discover the abject littleness of all terrestrial things. What is the earth, with all her ostentatious scenes, compared with this astonishing grand furniture of the skies? What, but a dim speck, hardly perceivable in the map of the universe? 9. It is observed by a very judicious writer, that if the sun himself, which enlightens this part of the creation, were extinguished, and all the host of planetary worlds, which move about them, were annihilated, they would not be missed by an eye that can take in the whole compass of nature, any more than a grain of sand upon the sea-shore. The bulk of which they consist, and the space which they occupy, are so exceedingly little in comparison of the whole, that their loss would scarcely leave a blank in the immensity of God's works. 10. If then, not our globe only, but this whole system, be so very diminutive, what is a kingdom or a country? What are a few lordships, or the so much admired patrimonies of those who are styled wealthy? When I measure them with my own little pittance, they swell into proud and bloated dimensions: but when I take the universe for my standard, how scanty is their size! how contemptible their figure! They shrink into pompous nothings. ADDISON. 4 R |