WHEN We look at the different Lots in Life; at the different degrees of bodily and of mental resource, of wealth and of reason, allotted to humanity; we are naturally, and very properly, induced to apply our hearts to search out the reason of these things. In endeavouring to render a reason, which may be admonitory to the proud, and consolatory to the humble, I have thought it might be profitable to transfer, and apply, some opposite but parallel sketches of man, and of life, as they stand in strong relief, and may be daily seen, and contrasted, and pondered upon, in the majestic, but unequal 'COURSE OF TIME.'

As in our holy faith, so in the ways of Providence, are many things mysterious. They are mysterious, not because Jehovah, or religion wishes to conceal them; for the Christian faith, and the order of Providence, are both frank, standing forth to view, and inviting all to prove, and search, and investigate; and yielding themselves a light to see them by. But they are mysterious, because they are too large for the human eye, too long for the human arm, to measure.

1. One feature in the ways of God, that seems wonderous, and at which some men complain, is the unequal gift of worldly things. Indeed, there is a great difference in men, externally, from the beggar to the prince. Take one of the highest, and one of the lowest, and conceive the scale between them.

Here is a noble of the earth, who dwells in a splendid mansion. He is robed in silk and gold; and every day fares sumptuously. He is titled, honoured, and served, by thousands, who await his nod, and receive his will for law. Whole provinces attend his march, and draw his chariot, or bear the precious man aloft on their shoulders. Abased millions fall, prostrate at his feet, and millions more thunder praises of adoration. As far as the eye can reach, he calls the land his own, and adds yearly to his fields. Like a tree of healthy root, he towers, and spreads his ample shade over half a nation. The air, the earth, and the sea, even all nature, the brute and the rational, minister to please him; and, watching the rising of his thoughts, vie among themselves who shall most anticipate his desires. His palace rises and seems to kiss the geous clouds. Streams bend their music to his will, and the native waste puts on luxuriant robes; and plains of happy cottages cast out their tenants, and become his hunting field. Before him, the distant isles bow with their fruits, and rare spices. The South brings her treasures; the East and West send theirs; and the frigid North comes with her offering of glossy furs. Musicians soothe

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his ear with select airs; beauty holds out her arms to him; and every man of cunning skill and curious device, and endless multitudes of servants in livery, wait his pleasure with obsequious looks. And when the wants of nature are supplied, and all common-place extravagancies are more than filled; and when caprice itself, in all its irregular appetites, is gorged to the full; he plans new wants, and new expenses. Nor does he plan alone. Wise, learned, and sober men, of deep meditation, take up his case, and plan for him new modes of wild folly; and contrive new wishes and wants, and wonderful means of spending with despatch. Yet, after all his spending, his fields extend, and his riches still grow, and what seems his infinite splendour still increases. So lavishly does Providence shower his daily bounty upon a single man.

Turn now thine eye, and look on Poverty. Look on the lowest of her ragged sons. We find him by the way, sitting in dust. He has no bread to eat, no tongue to ask, no limbs to walk, no home, no house, no friend. Ob

serve his hollow cheek, his wretched eye; and see how his hand, if he has any hand, involuntarily opens, and trembles forth, as the traveller's foot approaches; and hear his groan, his long and lamentable groan, announce the want that gnaws within him. In midsummer, the sun scorches and burns his aged bald head. In midwinter, the frost glues him to the chilly earth. The hail, rain, and tempest, rudely beat upon him; and all the winds of heaven, in jocular mood, sport with his withered rags, that, tossed about, display his nakedness to the passers by; and grievously burlesque the human form. Observe

him yet more narrowly. His limbs lie blasted about him, shaken with palsy; and all his flesh is full of angry sores, and noisome wounds, and his bones of racking pains. A strange vesture is this for an immortal soul. A strange retinue to wait upon a lord of the earth. It seems as if Nature, in some surly mood, after long musing and debating, had tried how vile and miserable a thing her hand could fabricate, and then had made this meagre man ; a sight so full of perfect misery, that passengers turn away their faces, and hasten to be gone; and delicate and tender women take another path.

And now do you seek the reason of these things? Of this wide difference in the allotments between man and man, on their Father's earth? I answer. This great disparity of outward things teaches many lessons; but this is taught chiefly, although the lesson is learned by few. That God sets no value, and that man should set none, on goods of worldly kind ;. on transitory, frail, external things, which are ever migratory, ever changing. And it further teaches, that in the soul alone, the thinking, reasonable, and willing soul, God places the total excellence of man; and means that he should evermore seek it there.

2. But another feature in the ways of God seems stranger still the distribution of intellect; though fewer here complain. Each one appears, upon the whole, content with his own share.

Here is one man, and many such you may have met, who never had a dozen thoughts in all his life, and never

changed their course; but tells them over, each in its accustomed place, from morning until night, from his youth to hoary old age. His reason rises but a little above the ox that grazes the field; and so weak is his memory, that he scarcely remembers the name that his mother called him by. And so untaught is his judgment, that what plays fantastically along the swamp at evening, clad in a robe of fiery hue, he thinks to be the devil in disguise, and flies with quivering heart and winged footsteps to his home. Of the word philosophy, or science, he never heard; nor did he ever hear of liberty, necessity, or the laws of gravitation; and he never had an unbelieving doubt. He never looked beyond his native valley; but thinks that the visible line, that girts him round, is the extreme of the world; and thinks that the silver moon, that on each night leads over him her virgin host, is no broader than his father's shield. He lives, lives where his father lived; and will die, where he died. He lives happy, and will die happy, and be saved. Be not surprised. He loves and serves his God.

There is another man, of a large understanding, of an infinite memory, of a deep judgment; one who knows all learning, and knows all science; and who can trace all phenomena, in heaven and in earth, to their causes. He traces the labyrinths of thought, of association, of passion, and of will; and all the subtle and nice affinities of matter, its virtues, its motions, and its laws, he traces; and he talks most familiarly and deeply of things, whether mental, moral, natural, or divine. Leaving the earth at his will, he soars to heaven, and reads the glorious visions of the skies; and listens intelligently to the music of the rolling_spheres; and gazing far back into the awful depths of Deity, he does all that the most assisted mind can do. And yet, this man lives in misery, and in misery will he die; because he wants a holiness of heart.

And now do you again seek the reason of these things? Of this wide disparity of mind and mind in man? I again answer. That in this, a deeper lesson is taught to mortals, and the branches of their pride are nearer cut. That God places excellence, not in mental, but in moral worth; and only to the good, and to virtue alone, does he grant happiness.

Then let us admire the goodness of Almighty God. He hath given riches, he hath given intellectual strength, to few; and therefore he commands none to be either rich, or learned. Nor doth he promise a reward of peace to these. But on all, he hath bestowed moral worth, and he asks a moral tribute from all. And who is there, that cannot pay? Who is born so poor, or of so mean an intellect, as not to know what seems the best; and when he knows, is not able to do it? As not to know what his God, and his conscience, bid; and what they bid, is not able to obey? And he, who acts thus, fulfils the eternal law, and will reap its promise of peace. He will find peace this way alone. He, who seeks it otherwise, will seek mellow grapes beneath the icy pole; will seek blooming roses on the cheek of death; will seek for substance in a world of fleeting shades.

Thus does it appear, beyond any lingering of a doubt, that God is not delighted, nor is his peace secured, with any degree of natural, or mental wealth. And that in

neither natural, nor mental wealth, is found human happiness, or human grandeur. And that the thought were monstrous, and will surely prove vain, to endeavour, with any thing of an earthly sort, with any thing but God, with any thing but moral excellence, and truth, and love, to satisfy and fill the immortal soul.

REMARKS.

1. Love God, love truth, love virtue, and be happy. These were the words first uttered in the ear of every being, that was made rational, and made accountable for his thoughts, words, and deeds. And still these terms remain unchanged, and unchangeable; unchanged as God, who in his own essential nature eternally binds happiness to virtue, nor lets them part through all his universe.

The Christian faith, which best knows the heart of man, sends him thither, to his own heart, for peace; and thus declares: Whoever finds it, let him find it there; and whoever finds it not there, let him forever seek it in vain.