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         Title: The Evidences of the Christian Religion, with Additional
                Discourses . . .
    Creator(s): Addison, Joseph (1672-1719)
   Print Basis: Greenfield: Printed by John Denio, 1812
        Rights: Public Domain
    LC Call no: BT 1100 A27 1812
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    THE

                                   EVIDENCES

    OF THE

CHRISTIAN RELIGION,

    WITH

  ADDITIONAL DISCOURSES ON THE
  FOLLOWING SUBJECTS, viz.

   Of God, and his Attributes.

   Dignity of the Scripture Language.

   The Power and wisdom of God in the Creation.

   Against Atheism and Infidelity.

   The Providence of God.

   The Worship of God.

   Against the Modern Freethinkers.

   Advantages of Revelation above Natural Reason.

   Immortality of the Soul, and a Future State.

   Excellency of the Christian Institution.

   Death and Judgment.
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   Collected from the Writings of

   The Right Hon. JOSEPH ADDISON, Esq.
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Greenfield:

  Printed by JOHN DENIO.

   Sold by him in Greenfield, by Thomas & Whipple,
   Newburyport, Henry Whipple, Salem, and by
   Thomas Dickman, Springfield.

   1812.
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Prefatory Material
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PREFACE.

   THE character of Mr. Addison, and his writings, for justness of
   thought, strength of reasoning, and purity of style, is too well
   established to need a recommendation; but their greatest ornament, and
   that which gives a lustre to all the rest, is his appearing throughout
   a zealous advocate for virtue and religion against profaneness and
   infidelity. And because his excellent discourses upon those subjects
   lie dispersed among his other writings, and are by that means not so
   generally known and read as they deserve, it was judged to be no
   unseasonable service to religion at this time to move the Bookseller to
   publish them together in a distinct volume, in hopes that the
   politeness and beauty peculiar to Mr. Addison's writings would make
   their way to persons of a superior character, and a more liberal
   education; and that, as they come from the hands of a layman, they may
   be the more readily received and considered by young gentlemen as a
   proper manual of religion.

   Our modern sceptics and infidels are great pretenders to reason and
   philosophy, and are willing to have it thought that none who are really
   possessed of those talents, can easily assent to the truth of
   Christianity. But it falls out very unfortunately for them and their
   cause, that those persons within our own memory, who are confessed to
   have been the most perfect reasoners and philosophers of their time,
   are also known to have been firm believers, and they laymen; I mean Mr.
   Boyle, Mr. Locke, Sir Isaac Newton, and Mr. Addison; who, modestly
   speaking, were as good thinkers and reasoners as the best among the
   sceptics and infidels at this day. Some of them might have their
   particular opinions about this or that point in Christianity, which
   will be the case as long as men are men; but the thing here insisted on
   is, that they were accurate reasoners, and, at the same time, firm
   believers.

   Mr. Boyle, the most exact searcher into the works of nature that any
   age has known, and who saw atheism and infidelity beginning to shew
   themselves in the loose and voluptuous reign of King Charles II.
   pursued his philosophical inquiries with religious views, to establish
   the minds of men in a firm belief and thorough sense of the infinite
   power and wisdom of the great Creator.

   This account we have from one who was intimately acquainted with him,
   (Dr. Burnet) and preached his funeral sermon. "It appeared to those who
   conversed with him in his inquiries into nature, that his main design
   in that (on which, as he had his own eye most constantly, so he took
   care to put others often in mind of it,) was to raise in himself and
   others vaster thoughts of the greatness and glory, and of the wisdom
   and goodness of God. This was so deep in his thoughts, that he
   concludes the article of his will, which relates to that illustrious
   body, the Royal Society, in these words: Wishing them a happy success
   in their laudable attempts to discover the true nature of the works of
   God and praying that they, and all other searchers into physical
   truths, may cordially refer their attainments to the glory of the great
   Author of nature, and the comfort of mankind." The same person also
   speaks thus of him: "He had the profoundest veneration for the great
   God of heaven and earth that ever I observed in any person. The very
   name of God was never mentioned by him without a pause, and a visible
   stop in his discourse."

   And of the strickness and exemplariness of the whole course of his
   life, he says, "I might here challenge the whole tribe of Libertines to
   come and view the usefulness, as well as the excellence of the
   Christian religion, in a life that was entirely dedicated to it."

   Against the Atheists he wrote his Free Inquiry into the received Notion
   of Nature, (to confute the pernicious principle of ascribing effects to
   nature, which are only produced by the infinite power and wisdom of
   God;) and also his Essay about final Causes of Things Natural, to shew
   that all things in nature were made and contrived with great order, and
   every thing for its proper end and use, by an all wise Creator.

   Against the Deists he wrote a treatise of things above reason; in which
   he makes it appear that several things, which we judge to be contrary
   to reason, because above the reach of our understanding, are not
   therefore to be thought unreasonable because we cannot comprehend them,
   since they may be apparently reasonable to a greater and more
   comprehensive understanding. And he wrote another treatise, to show the
   possiblity of the resurrection of the same body.

   The veneration he had for the holy scriptures, appears not only from
   his studying them with great exactness, and exhorting others to do the
   same, but more particularly from a distinct treatise, which he wrote on
   purpose to defend the scripture style, and to answer all the objections
   which profane and irreligious persons have made against it. And
   speaking of morality, considered as a rule of life, he says, "I have
   formerly taken pains to peruse books of morality, yet since they have
   only a power to persuade, but not to command, and sin and death do not
   necessarily attend the disobedience of them, they have the less
   influence: for since we may take the liberty to question human writers,
   I find that the methods they take to impose their writings upon us may
   serve to countenance either truth or falsehood."

   His zeal to propagate Christianity in the world appears by many and
   large benefactions to that end, which are enumerated in his funeral
   sermon: "He was at the charge of the translation and impression of the
   New Testament into the Malayan language, which he sent over all the
   East-Indies. He gave a noble reward to him that translated Grotius's
   incomparable book of the Truth of the Christian Religion into Arabic;
   and was at the charge of a whole impression, which he took care to
   order to be distributed in all the countries where that language is
   understood. He was resolved to have carried on the impression of the
   New Testament in the Turkish language; but the company thought it
   became them to be the doers of it, and so suffered him only to give a
   large share towards it.--He was at seven hundred pounds charge in the
   edition of the Irish Bible, which he ordered to be distributed in
   Ireland; and he contributed largely both to the impression of the Welsh
   Bible, and of the Irish Bible in Scotland. He gave, during his life,
   three hundred pounds to advance the design of propagating the Christian
   religion in America; and as soon as he heard that the East-India
   Company were entertaining propositions for the like design in the East,
   he presently sent an hundred pounds for a beginning and an example, but
   intended to carry it much farther, when it should be set on foot to
   purpose. He had designed, though some accidents did, upon great
   considerations, divert him from settling it during his life, but not
   from ordering it by his will, that a liberal provision should be made
   for one who should, in a very few well-digested sermons, every year,
   set forth the truth of the Christian religion in general, without
   descending to the subdivisions amongst Christians; and who should be
   changed every third year, that so the noble study and employment might
   pass through many hands, by which means many might become masters of
   the argument.

   In his younger years he had thoughts of entering into holy orders: and
   one reason that determined him against it was, that he believed he
   might in some respects be more serviceable to religion, by continuing a
   layman. "His having no interests with relation to religion, besides
   those of saving his own soul, gave him as he thought, a more
   unsuspected authority in writing or acting on that side. He knew the
   profane crew fortified themselves against all that was said by men of
   our profession, with this, that it was their trade, and that they were
   paid for it; he hoped therefore that he might have the more influence
   the less he shared in the patrimony of the church."

   Mr. Locke, whose accurate talent in reasoning is much celebrated, even
   by the sceptics and infidels of our times, showed his zeal for
   Christianity, first, in his middle age, by publishing a discourse on
   purpose to demonstrate the reasonableness of believing Jesus to be the
   promised Messiah; and, after that, in the last years of his life, by a
   very judicious commentary upon several of the epistles of St. Paul.

   He speaks of the Miracles wrought by our Saviour and his apostles in
   the strongest manner, both as facts unexceptionably true, and as the
   clearest evidences of a divine mission. His words are these: "The
   evidences of our Saviour's mission from heaven is so great, in the
   multitude of his miracles he did before all sorts of people (which the
   divine providence and wisdom had so ordered, that they never were nor
   could be denied by any of the enemies and opposers of Christianity,)
   that what he delivered cannot but be received as the oracles of God,
   and unquestionable verity." And again, "After his resurrection, he sent
   his apostles amongst the nations, accompanied with miracles; which were
   done in all parts so frequently, and before so many witnesses of all
   sorts in broad daylight, that, as I have often observed, the enemies of
   Christianity have never dared to deny them; no not Julian himself, who
   neither wanted skill nor power to inquire into the truth; nor would
   have failed to have proclaimed and exposed it, if he could have
   detected any falsehood in the history of the gospel, or found the least
   ground to question the matter of fact published by Christ and his
   apostles. The number and evidence of the miracles done by our Saviour
   and his followers, by the power and force of truth, bore down this
   mighty and accomplished emperor, and all his parts in his own
   dominions. He durst not deny so plain matter of fact; which being
   granted, the truth of our Saviour's doctrine and mission unavoidably
   follows, notwithstanding whatsoever artful suggestions his wit could
   invent, or malice should offer to the contrary.

   To those who ask, "What need was there of a Saviour? what advantage
   have we by Jesus Christ?" Mr. Locke replies, "It is enough to justify
   the fitness of any thing to be done by resolving it into the wisdom of
   God, who has done it; whereof our narrow understandings and short views
   may utterly incapacitate us to judge. We know little of this visible,
   and nothing at all of the state of that intellectual world (wherein are
   infinite numbers and degrees of spirits out of the reach of our ken or
   guess), and therefore know not what transactions there were between God
   and our Saviour in reference to his kingdom. We know not what need
   there was to set up a Head and a Chieftain in opposition to THE PRINCE
   OF THIS WORLD, THE PRINCE OF THE POWER OF THE AIR, &c. whereof there
   are more than obscure intimations in scriptures. And we shall take too
   much upon us, if we should call God's wisdom or providence to account,
   and pertly condemn for needless all that our weak and perhaps biased
   understanding cannot account for." And then shews at large the
   necessity there was of the gospel revelation, to deliver the world from
   the miserable state of darkness and ignorance that mankind were in, 1.
   As to the true knowledge of God, 2. As to the worship to be paid him,
   3. As to the duties to be performed to him. To which he adds the mighty
   aids and encouragements to the performance of our duty, 1. From the
   assurance the gospel gives of future rewards and punishments; and, 2.
   From the promise of the Spirit of God to direct and assist us.

   The holy scriptures are every where mentioned by him with the greatest
   reverence. He calls them the Holy Books, the Sacred Text, Holy Writ,
   and Divine Revelation and exhorts Christians "to betake themselves in
   earnest to the study of the way to salvation, in those holy writings
   wherein God has revealed it from heaven, and proposed it to the world;
   seeking our religion where we are sure it is in truth to be found,
   comparing spiritual things with spiritual." And, in a letter written
   the year before his death to one who asked this question, "What is the
   shortest and surest way, for a young Gentleman to attain to a true
   knowledge of the Christian religion, in the full and just extent of
   it?" his answer is, "Let him study the holy scripture, especially the
   New Testament. Therein are contained the words of eternal life. It has
   God for its Author; salvation for its end; and truths without any
   mixture of error, for its matter." A direction that was copied from his
   own practice, in the latter part of his life, and after his retirement
   from business; when, for fourteen or fifteen years, he applied himself
   especially to the study of the holy Scriptures, and employed the last
   years of his life hardly in any thing else. He was never weary of
   admiring the great views of that sacred book, and the just relation of
   all its parts. He every day made discoveries in it, that gave him fresh
   cause of admiration."

   Of St. Paul in particular, upon several of whose epistles he drew up a
   most useful commentary, he says, "That he was miraculously called to
   the ministry of the gospel, and declared to be a chosen vessel:--That
   he had the whole doctrine of the gospel from God by immediate
   revelation:--That for his information in the Christian knowledge, and
   the mysteries and depths of the dispensation of God by Jesus Christ,
   God himself had condescended to be his instructor and teacher:--That he
   had received the light of the gospel from the Fountain and Father of
   light himself:---and, That an exact observation of his reasonings and
   inferences, is the only safe guide for the right understanding of him,
   under the Spirit of God, that directed these sacred writings."

   And the death of this great man was agreeable to his life; for we are
   informed by one who was with him when he died, and had lived in the
   same family for seven years before, that the day before his death he
   particularly exhorted all about him to read the holy scriptures: That
   he desired to be remembered by them at evening prayers; and being told,
   that if he would, the whole family should come and pray by him in his
   chamber, he answered, he should be very glad to have it so, if it would
   not give too much trouble: That an occasion offering to speak of the
   goodness of God, he especially exalted the love which God shewed to
   man, in justifying him by faith in Jesus Christ; and returned God
   thanks in particular for having called him to the knowledge of that
   divine Saviour.

   About two months before his death he drew up a letter to a gentleman
   (who afterwards distinguished himself by a very different way of
   thinking and writing) and left this direction upon it, "To be delivered
   to him after my decease." In it are these remarkable words, "This life
   is a scene of vanity that soon passes away, and affords no solid
   satisfaction, but in the consciousness of doing well, and in the hopes
   of another life. This is what I can say upon experience, and what you
   will find to be true, when you came to make up the account."

   Sir Isaac Newton, universally acknowledged to be the ablest philosopher
   and mathematician that this or perhaps any other nation has produced,
   is also well known to have been a firm believer, and a serious
   Christian. His discoveries concerning the frame and system of the
   universe were applied by him, as Mr. Boyle's inquiries into nature had
   been, to demonstrate, against Atheists of all kinds, the being of a
   God, and illustrate his power and wisdom in the creation of the world.
   Of which a better account cannot be given, than in the words of an
   ingenious person who has been much conversant in his philosophical
   writings: "At the end of his mathematical principles of natural
   philosophy he has given us his thoughts concerning the Deity, wherein
   he first observes, that the similitude found in all parts of the
   universe, makes it undoubted that the whole is governed by one supreme
   Being, to whom the original is owing of the frame of nature, which
   evidently is the effect of choice and design. He then proceeds briefly
   to state the best metaphysical notions concerning God. In short, we
   cannot conceive either of space or time otherwise than as necessarily
   existing; this being therefore, on whom all others depend, must
   certainly exist by the same necessity of nature; consequently wherever
   space and time is found there God must also be. And as it appears
   impossible to us that space should be limited, or that time should have
   had a beginning, the Deity must be both immense and eternal "

   This great man applied himself, with the utmost attention, to the study
   of the holy scriptures, and considered the several parts of them with
   an uncommon exactness; particularly, as to the order of time, and the
   series of prophecies and events relating to the Messiah. Upon which
   head he left behind him an elaborate discourse, to prove, that the
   famous prophecy of Daniel's weeks, which has been so industriously
   perverted by the Deists of our times, was an express prophecy of the
   coming of the Messiah, and fulfilled in Jesus Christ.

   Mr. Addison, so deservedly celebrated for an uncommon accuracy in
   thinking and reasoning, has given abundant proof of his firm belief of
   Christianity, and his zeal against infidels of all kinds, in the
   writings that are here published of which it is certainly known that a
   great part of them were his own compositions.

   I mention not these great names, nor the testimonies they have given of
   their firm belief of the truth of Christianity, as if the evidences of
   our religion were to be finally resolved into human authority, or tried
   in any other way than by the known and established rules of right
   reason; but my design in mentioning them is,

   1. To shew the very great assurance of those who would make the belief
   of revelation inconsistent with the due use of our reason; when they
   have known so many eminent instances, in our own time, of the greatest
   masters of reason, not only believing revelation, but zealously
   concerned to establish and propagate the belief of it.

   2. The remembrance of this will also be a means, on one hand, to hinder
   well meaning people from being misled by the vain boasts of our modern
   pretenders to reason; and, on the other hand, to check the inclination
   of the wicked and vicious to be misled, when both of them have before
   their eyes such fresh and eminent instances of sound reasoning, and a
   firm faith, joined together in one and the same mind.

   3. Further, as these were persons generally esteemed for virtue and
   goodness, and notwithstanding their high attainments, remarkable for
   their modesty and humility; their examples shew us, that a strong and
   clear reason naturally leads to the belief of revelation, when it is
   not under the influences of vice or pride.

   4. And finally, as they are all laymen, there is no room for the
   enemies of revealed religion, to allege that they were prejudiced by
   interest, or secular considerations of any kind. A suggestion that has
   really no weight, when urged against the writings of the clergy in
   defence of revelation, since they do not desire to be trusted upon
   their own authority, but upon the reasons they offer; lawyers and
   physicians are not less trusted, because they live by their
   professions; but it is a suggestion that easily takes hold of weak
   minds, and especially such as catch at objections, and are willing to
   be caught by them. And, considering the diligence of the adversary in
   making proselytes, and drawing men from the faith of Christ; equal
   diligence is required of those who are to maintain that faith, not only
   to leave men no real ground, but even no colour or pretence for their
   infidelity.

   The following discourses, except that concerning the Evidences of
   Christian Religion, were all published in separate papers some years
   ago, and afterwards collected into volumes, with marks of distinction
   at the end of many of them, to point out the writers. Mr. Addison's are
   there distinguished by some one of the letters of the word CLIO; and
   the same marks of distinction are here continued; as are also the rest,
   where any letter was found at the end of the discourse.

   ^* [*] ^* Mr. Addison having left his treatise on the truth of the
   Christian religion unfinished, the Publisher, to make it somewhat more
   complete, selected, from the Spectator, several papers (mostly the
   author's) on the being and perfections of God, the nature of religion,
   the immortality of the soul, and a future state; and printed them with
   it. But though the treatise and the other papers are well calculated to
   prove the truth of, and recommend the Christian religion to, the faith
   and practice of mankind; yet their influences will be but small, till
   men are awakened out of that insensibility into which they are fallen,
   and brought to believe how much they are interested in the great truths
   Christianity reveals. To beget thought and excite inquiry it was judged
   the following extract from Mons. Pascal's Thoughts, against an
   atheistical indifference, would neither be an improper, nor an
   unacceptable introduction to the subsequent papers.
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INTRODUCTION.

   IT were to be wished that the enemies of religion would at least bring
   themselves to apprehend its nature before they oppose its authority.
   Did religion make its boast of beholding God with a clear and perfect
   view, and of possessing him without a covering or veil, the argument
   would bear some colour, when men should alledge, that none of the
   things about them do indeed afford this pretended evidence, and this
   degree of light. But since religion, on the contrary, represents men as
   in a state of darkness, and of estrangement from God; since it affirms
   him to have withdrawn himself from their discovery, and to have chosen
   in his word, the very style and appellation of Deus absconditus;
   lastly, since it employs itself alike, in establishing these two
   maxims, that God has left in his church certain characters of himself,
   by which they who sincerely seek him shall not fail of a sensible
   conviction--and yet that he has, at the same time, so far shaded and
   obscured these characters as to render them imperceptible to those who
   do not seek him with their whole heart; what advantage is it to men who
   profess themselves negligent in the search of truth, to complain so
   frequently that nothing reveals and displays it to them? For this very
   obscurity under which they labour, and which they make an exception
   against the church, does itself evince one of the two grand points
   which the church maintains, (without affecting the other) and is so far
   from overthrowing its doctrines, as to lend them a manifest
   confirmation and support.

   If they would give their objections any strength, they ought to urge,
   that they have applied their utmost endeavour, and have used all means
   of information, even those which the church recommends, without
   satisfaction. Did they express themselves thus, they would indeed
   attack religion in one of its chief pretensions. But I hope to shew, in
   the following papers, that no rational person can speak after this
   manner, and I dare assert that none ever did. We know very well how
   men, under this indifference of spirit, behave themselves in the case.
   They suppose themselves to have made the mightiest efforts towards the
   instruction of their minds, when they have spent some hours in reading
   the scriptures, and have asked some questions of a clergyman concerning
   the articles of faith. When this is done, they declare to all the world
   they have consulted books and men without success. I shall be excused,
   if I refrain from not telling such men (what I have often told them)
   that this neglect of theirs is insupportable. It is not a foreign or a
   petty interest which is here in debate; we are ourselves the parties,
   and all our hopes and fortunes are the depending stake.

   The immortality of the soul is a thing which so deeply concerns, so
   infinitely imports us, that we must have utterly lost our feeling, to
   be altogether cold and remiss in our enquiries about it. And all our
   actions, or designs, ought to bend so very different a way, according
   as we are either encouraged or forbidden to embrace the hope of eternal
   rewards, that it is impossible for us to proceed with judgment and
   discretion, otherwise than as we keep this point always in view, which
   ought to be our ruling object and final aim.

   Thus is it our highest interest, no less than our principal duty, to
   get light into a subject on which our whole conduct depends. And
   therefore, in the number of wavering and unsatisfied men, I make the
   greatest difference imaginable between those who labour with all their
   force to obtain instruction, and those who live without giving
   themselves any trouble, or so much as any thought, in this affair.

   I cannot but be touched with a hearty compassion for those who
   sincerely groan under this dissatisfaction; who look upon it as the
   greatest of misfortunes, and who spare no pains to deliver themselves
   from it, by making these researches their chief employment and most
   serious study. But as for those who pass their life without reflecting
   on its issue, and who, for this reason alone, because they find not in
   themselves a convincing testimony, refuse to seek it elsewhere, and to
   examine to the bottom, whether the opinion proposed be such as we are
   wont to entertain by popular simplicity and credulity, or such as
   though obscure in itself, yet is built on solid and immoveable
   foundations, I consider them after quite another manner. The
   carelessness which they betray in an affair where their person, their
   interest, their whole eternity, is embarked, rather provokes my
   resentment than engages my pity; nay, it strikes me with amazement and
   astonishment; it is a monster to my apprehension. I speak not this as
   transported with the pious zeal of a spiritual and rapturous devotion.
   On the contrary, I affirm, that the love of ourselves, the interest of
   mankind, and the most simple and artless reason, do naturally inspire
   us with these sentiments; and that to see thus far, is not to exceed
   the sphere of unrefined, uneducated men.

   It requires no great elevation of soul to observe, that nothing in this
   world is productive of true contentment; that our pleasures are vain
   and fugitive, our troubles innumberable and perpetual; and that after
   all, death, which threatens us every moment, must, in the compass of a
   few years, (perhaps of a few days) put us into the eternal condition of
   happiness, or misery, or nothing. Between us and these three great
   periods, or states, no barrier is interposed but life, the most brittle
   thing in all nature; and the happiness of heaven being certainly not
   designed for those who doubt whether they have an immortal part to
   enjoy it, such persons have nothing left but the miserable chance of
   annihilation, or of hell.

   There is not any reflection which can have more reality than this, as
   there is none which has greater terror. Let us set the bravest face on
   our condition, and play the heroes as artfully as we can, yet see here
   the issue which attends the goodliest life upon earth!

   Tis in vain for men to turn aside their thoughts from this eternity
   which awaits them, as if they were able to destroy it, by denying it a
   place in their imaginations. It subsists in spite of them; it advanceth
   unobserved: and death, which is to draw the curtain from it, will, in a
   short time, infallibly reduce them to the dreadful necessity of being
   forever nothing, or forever miserable.

   We have here a doubt of the most affrighting consequence, and which
   therefore to entertain may be well esteemed the most grievous of
   misfortunes; but, at the same time, it is our indispensable duty not to
   lie under it without struggling for deliverance.

   He then who doubts, and yet seeks not to be resolved, is equally
   unhappy and unjust. But if withal he appears easy and composed; if he
   freely declares his indifference; nay, if he takes a vanity in
   professing it, and seems to make this most deplorable condition the
   subject of his pleasure and joy, have not words to fix a name on so
   extravagant a creature. Where is the very possibility of entering into
   these thoughts and resolutions? what delight is there in expecting
   misery without end? what vanity in finding one's self encompassed with
   impenetrable darkness? or what consolation in despairing forever of a
   comforter?

   To sit down with some sort of acquiescence under so fatal an ignorance,
   is a thing unaccountable beyond all expression: and they who live with
   such a disposition ought to be made sensible of its absurdity and
   stupidity, by having their inward reflections laid open to them, that
   they may grow wise by the prospect of their own folly. For behold how
   men are wont to reason, while they obstinately remain thus ignorant of
   what they are, and refuse all methods of instruction and illumination!

   Who has sent me into the world, I know not; what the world is, I know
   not, nor what I am myself. I am under an astonishing and terrifying
   ignorance of all things. I know not what my body is, what my senses, or
   my soul. This very part of me which thinks what I speak, which reflects
   upon every thing else, and even upon itself, yet is as mere a stranger
   to its own nature as the dullest thing I carry about me. I behold these
   frightful spaces of the universe with which I am encompassed; and I
   find myself chained to one little corner of the vast extent, without
   understanding why I am placed in this seat rather than any other; or
   why this moment of time, given me to live, was assigned rather at such
   a point, than at any other of the whole eternity which was before me,
   or of all that which is to come after me. I see nothing but infinities
   on all sides, which devour and swallow me up, like an atom; like a
   shadow, which endures but a single instant, and is never to return. The
   sum of my knowledge is, that I must shortly die; but that which I am
   most ignorant of, is this very death which I feel myself unable to
   decline.

   As I know not whence I came, so I know not whither I go; only this I
   know, that at my departure out of the world, I must either fall forever
   into nothing, or into the hands of an incensed God, without being
   capable of deciding which of these two conditions shall eternally be my
   portion. Such is my state; full of weakness, obscurity, and
   wretchedness. And from all this I conclude, that I ought therefore to
   pass all the days of my life, without considering what is hereafter to
   befall me; and that I have nothing to do but to follow my inclinations,
   without reflection or disquiet, in doing all that which, if what men
   say of a miserable eternity prove true, will infallibly plunge me into
   it. Tis possible I might find some light to clear up my doubts; but I
   shall not take a minute's pains, nor stir one foot in the search of it.
   On the contrary, I am resolved to treat those with scorn and derision
   who labour in this inquiry with care; and so to run, without fear or
   foresight, upon the trial of the grand event; permitting myself to be
   led softly on to death, utterly uncertain as to the eternal issue of my
   future condition.

   In earnest, tis a glory to religion to have so unreasonable men for its
   professed enemies; and their opposition is of so little danger, that it
   serves to illustrate the principal truths which our religion teaches.
   For the main scope of Christian faith is to establish these two
   principles, the corruption of nature; and the redemption by Jesus
   Christ. And these opposers, if they are of no use towards demonstrating
   the truth of the redemption, by the sanctity of their lives, yet are,
   at least, admirably useful in shewing the corruption of nature, by so
   unnatural sentiments and suggestions.

   Nothing is so important to any man as his own estate and condition;
   nothing so great, so amazing, as eternity. If therefore we find persons
   indifferent to the loss of their being, and to the danger of endless
   misery, tis impossible that this temper should be natural. They are
   quite other men in all other regards: they fear the smallest
   inconveniences; they see them as they approach, and feel them if they
   arrive; and he who passeth days and nights in chagrin or despair, for
   the loss of employment, or for some imaginary blemish in his honour, is
   the very same mortal who knows that he must lose all by death, and yet
   remains without disquiet, resentment or emotion. This wonderful
   insensibility with respect to things of the most fatal consequence, in
   a heart so nicely sensible of the meanest trifles, is an astonishing
   prodigy, an unintelligible inchantment, a supernatural blindness and
   infatuation.

   A man in a close dungeon, who knows not whether sentence of death is
   passed upon him, who is allowed but one hour's space to inform himself
   concerning it, and that one hour sufficient, in case it have passed, to
   obtain its reverse, would act contrary to nature and sense, should he
   make use of this hour not to procure information, but to pursue his
   vanity or sport. And yet such is the condition of the persons whom we
   are now describing: only with this difference, that the evils with
   which they are every moment threatened do infinitely surpass the bare
   loss of life, and that transient punishment which the prisoner is
   supposed to apprehend. Yet they run thoughtless upon the precipice,
   having only cast a veil over their eyes, to hinder them from discerning
   it, and divert themselves with the officiousness of such as charitably
   warn them of their danger.

   Thus, not the zeal alone of those who heartily seek God demonstrates
   the truth of religion, but likewise the blindness of those who utterly
   forbear to seek him, and who pass their days under so horrible a
   neglect. There must needs be a strange turn and revolution in human
   nature, before men can submit to such a condition; much more, ere they
   can applaud and value themselves upon it. For, supposing them to have
   obtained an absolute certainty that there was no fear after death, but
   of falling into nothing; ought not this to be the subject rather of
   despair than of jollity? And is it not therefore the highest pitch of
   senseless extravagance, while we want this certainty, to glory in our
   doubt and distrust?

   And yet after all, it is too visible, that man has so far declined from
   his original nature, and as it were departed from himself, as to
   nourish in his heart a secret seed plot of joy, springing up from these
   libertine reflections. This brutal ease or indolence, between the fear
   of hell and of annihilation, carries somewhat so tempting in it, that
   not only those who have the misfortune to be sceptically inclined, but
   even those who cannot unsettle their judgment, do yet esteem it
   reputable to take up even a counterfeit diffidence. For we may observe
   the largest part of the herd to be of this latter kind, false
   pretenders to infidelity, and mere hypocrites in atheism. There are
   persons whom we have heard declare that the genteel way of the world
   consists in thus acting the bravo. This is that which they term
   throwing off the yoke, and which the greater number of them profess,
   not so much out of opinion, as out of gallantry and complaisance.

   Yet, if they have the least reserve of common sense, it will not be
   difficult to make them apprehend, how miserably they abuse themselves,
   by laying so false a foundation of applause and esteem. For this is not
   the way to raise a character, even with worldly men, who as they are
   able to pass shrewd judgment on things, so they easily discern, that
   the only method of succeeding in our temporal affairs is to approve
   ourselves honest, faithful, prudent, and capable of advancing the
   interest of our friends; because men naturally love nothing but that
   which some way contributes to their use and benefit. But now what
   benefit can we any way derive from hearing a man confess, that he has
   eased himself of the burden of religion; that he believes no God, as
   the witness and inspector of his conduct; that he considers himself as
   absolute master of what he does, and accountable for it only to his own
   mind? Will he fancy that we shall be hence induced to repose a greater
   degree of confidence in him hereafter, or to depend on his comfort, his
   advice or assistance in the necessities of life? Can he imagine us to
   take any great delight or complacency, when he tells us, that he doubts
   whether our very soul be any thing more than a little wind and smoke;
   nay, when he tells it us with an air of assurance, and a voice that
   testifies the contentment of his heart? Is this a thing to be spoken of
   with pleasantry? or ought it not rather to be lamented with the deepest
   sadness as the most melancholic reflection that can strike our
   thoughts?

   If they would compose them to serious consideration, they must perceive
   the method in which they are engaged to be so very ill chosen, so
   repugnant to gentility, and so remote even from that good air and grace
   which they pursue, that, on the contrary, nothing can more effectually
   expose them to the contempt and aversion of mankind, or mark them out
   for persons defective in parts and judgment. And indeed should we
   demand from them an account of their sentiments, and of the reasons
   which they have to entertain this suspicion in religious matters, what
   they offered would appear so miserably weak and trifling, as rather to
   confirm us in our belief. This is no more than what one of their own
   fraternity told them with great smartness, on such an occasion. If you
   continue (says he) to dispute at this rate, you'll infallibly make me a
   Christian. And the gentleman was in the right: for who would not
   tremble to find himself embarked in the same cause with so forlorn, so
   despicable companions.

   And thus it is evident; that they who wear no more than the outward
   mask of these principles are the most unhappy counterfeits in the
   world; in as much as they are obliged to put a continual force and
   constraint on their genius, only that they may render themselves the
   most impertinent of all men living.

   If they are heartily and sincerely troubled at their want of light, let
   them not dissemble the disease. Such a confession could not be reputed
   shameful; for there is really no shame, but in being shameless. Nothing
   betrays is much weakness of soul, as not to apprehend the misery of
   man, while living without God in the world: nothing is a surer token of
   extreme baseness of spirit, than not to hope for the reality of eternal
   promises: no man is so stigmatized a coward, as he that acts the bravo
   against Heaven. Let them, therefore, leave these impieties to those who
   are born with so unhappy a judgment as to be capable of entertaining
   them in nearest. If they cannot be Christian men, let them however be
   men of honour. And let them, in conclusion, acknowledge that there are
   but two sorts of persons who deserve to be styled reasonable, either
   those, who serve God with all their heart, because they know him; or
   those who seek him with all their heart, because as yet they know him
   not.

   If then there are persons who sincerely inquire after God, and who,
   being truly sensible of their misery, affectionately desire to be
   rescued from it, it is to these alone that we can in justice afford our
   labour and service, for their direction in finding out that light of
   which they feel the want.

   But as for those who live without either knowing God, or endeavouring
   to know him, they look on themselves as so little deserving their own
   care, that they cannot but be unworthy the care of others: and it
   requires all the charity of the religion which they despise, not to
   despise them to such a degree, as even to abandon them to their own
   folly. But since the same religion obliges us to consider them, while
   they remain in this life, as still capable of God's enlightening grace;
   and to acknowledge it as very possible, that, in the course of a few
   days, they may be replenished with a fuller measure of faith than we
   now enjoy, and we ourselves, on the other side, fall into the depths of
   their present blindness and misery; we ought to do for them what we
   desire should be done to us in their case, to intreat them that they
   would take pity on themselves, and would, at least, advance a step or
   two forward, if perchance they may come into the light. For which end
   it is wished, that they would employ, in the perusal of this piece,
   some few of these hours which they spend so unprofitably in other
   pursuits. Tis possible they may gain somewhat by the reading; at least
   they cannot be great losers. But if any shall apply themselves to it,
   with perfect sincerity, and with an unfeigned desire of knowing the
   truth, I despair not of their satisfaction, or of their being convinced
   by so many proofs of our divine religion as they will here find laid
   together."
     __________________________________________________________________

  THE

                                   EVIDENCES

  OF THE

CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. I.

   I. General division of the following discourse, with regard to Pagan
   and Jewish authors, who mention particulars relating to our Saviour.

   II. Not probable that any such should be mentioned by Pagan writers who
   lived at the same time, from the nature of such transactions.

   III. Especially when related by the Jews.

   IV. And heard at a distance by those who pretended to as great miracles
   of their own.

   V. Besides, that no Pagan writers of that age lived in Judea, or its
   confines.

   VI. And because many books of that age are lost.

   VII. An instance of one record proved to be authentic.

   VIII. A second record of probable, though not undoubted, authority.

   I. THAT I may lay before you a full state of the subject under our
   consideration and methodise the several particulars that I touched upon
   in discourse with you, I shall first take notice of such Pagan authors
   as have given their testimony to the history of our Saviour; reduce
   these authors under their respective classes, and shew what authority
   their testimonies carry with them. Secondly, I shall take notice of [1]
   Jewish authors in the same light.

   II. There are many reasons why you should not expect that matters of
   such a wonderful nature should be taken notice of by those eminent
   Pagan writers, who were contemporaries with Jesus Christ, or by those
   who lived before his disciples had personally appeared among them, and
   ascertained the report which had gone abroad concerning a life so full
   of miracles.

   Supposing such things had happened at this day in Switzerland, or among
   the Grisons, who make a greater figure in Europe than Judea did in the
   Roman Empire, would they be immediately believed by those who live at a
   great distance from them? or would any certain account of them be
   transmitted into foreign countries, within so short a space of time as
   that of our Saviour's public ministry? Such kinds of news, though never
   so true, seldom gain credit, till some time after they are transacted,
   and exposed to the examination of the curious, who, by laying together
   circumstances, attestations, and characters of those who are concerned
   in them, either receive or reject what at first none but eye-witnesses
   could absolutely believe or disbelieve. In a case of this sort, it was
   natural for men of sense and learning to treat the whole account as
   fabulous: or, at farthest, to suspend their belief of it, until all
   things stood together in their full light.

   III. Besides, the Jews were branded not only for superstitions
   different from all the religions of the Pagan world, but in a
   particular manner ridiculed for being a credulous people: so that
   whatever reports of such a nature came out of that country, were looked
   upon by the Heathen world as false, frivolous, and improbable.

   IV. We may further observe, that the ordinary practice of magic in
   those times, with the many pretended prodigies, divinations,
   apparitions, and local miracles among the Heathens, made them less
   attentive to such news from Judea, till they had time to consider the
   nature, the occasion, and the end of our Saviour's miracles, and were
   awakened by many surprising events, to allow them any consideration at
   all.

   V. We are indeed told by St. Matthew, that the fame of our Saviour,
   during his life, went throughout all Syria; and that there followed him
   great multitudes of people from Galilee, Judea, Decapolis, Idumea, from
   beyond Jordan, and from Tyre and Sidon. Now, had there been any
   historians of those times and places, we might have expected to have
   seen in them some account of those wonderful transactions in Judea; but
   there is not any single author extant, in any kind, of that age, in any
   of those countries.

   VI. How many books have perished in which possibly there might have
   been mention of our Saviour? Look among the Romans, how few of their
   writings are come down to our times! In the space of two hundred years
   from our Saviour's birth when there was such a multitude of writers of
   all kinds, how small is the number of authors that have made their way
   to the present age.

   VII. One authentic record, and that the most authentic Heathen record,
   we are pretty sure is lost, I mean the account sent by the governor of
   Judea, under whom our Saviour was judged, condemned, and crucified. It
   was the custom in the Roman Empire, as it is to this day, in all the
   governments of the world, for the prefects and viceroys of distant
   provinces, to transmit to their sovereign a summary relation of every
   thing remarkable in their administration. That Pontius Pilate, in his
   account, would have touched on so extraordinary an event in Judea, is
   not to be doubted: and that he actually did, we learn from Justin
   Martyr, who lived about a hundred years after our Saviour's death,
   resided, made converts, and suffered martyrdom at Rome, where he was
   engaged with philosophers, and in a particular manner with Crescens the
   Cynic, who could easily have detected, and would not fail to have
   exposed him, had he quoted a record not in being, or made any false
   citation out of it. Would the great apologist have challenged Crescens
   to dispute the cause of Christianity with him before the Roman senate,
   had he forged such an evidence? Or would Crescens have refused the
   challenge, could he have triumphed over him in the detection of such a
   forgery? To which we must add, that the apology which appeals to this
   record, was presented to a learned emperor, and to the whole body of
   the Roman senate. This father, in his apology, speaking of the death
   and suffering of our Saviour, refers the emperor for the truth of what
   he says to the acts of Pontius Pilate which I have here mentioned.
   Tertullian, who wrote his apology about fifty years after Justin,
   doubtless referred to the same record, when he tells the governor of
   Rome, that the emperor Tiberius having received an account out of
   Palestine in Syria, of the divine person who had appeared in that
   country, paid him a particular regard, and threatened to punish any who
   should accuse the Christians; nay, that the emperor would have adopted
   him among the deities whom they worshipped, had not the senate refused
   to come in to his proposal. Tertullian, who gives us this history, was
   not only one of the most learned men of his age, but, what adds a
   greater weight to his authority in this case, was eminently skilful and
   well read in the laws of the Roman Empire. Nor can it be said, that
   Tertullian grounded his quotation upon the authority of Justin Martyr,
   because we find he mixes it with matters of fact which are not related
   by that author. Eusebius mentions the same ancient record, but as it
   was not extant in his time, I shall not insist upon his authority in
   this point. If it be objected that this particular is not mentioned in
   any Roman historian, I shall use the same argument in a parallel case,
   and see whether it will carry any force with it. Ulpian the Great Roman
   lawyer gathered together all the imperial edicts that had been made
   against the Christians; but did any one ever say that there had been no
   such edicts, because they were not mentioned in the histories of those
   Emperors? Besides, who knows but this circumstance of Tiberius was
   mentioned in other historians that have been lost; tho' not to be found
   in any still extant? Has not Suetonius many particulars of this Emperor
   omitted by Tacitus, and Herodian many that are not so much as hinted at
   by either! As for the spurious acts of Pilate, now extant, we know the
   occasion and time of their writing, and had there not been a true and
   authentic record of this nature, they would never have been forged.

   VIII. The story of Abgarus, king of Edessa, relating to the letter
   which he sent to our Saviour, and to that which he received from him,
   is a record of great authority; and though I will not insist upon it,
   may venture to say, that had we such an evidence for any fact in Pagan
   history, an author would be thought very unreasonable who should reject
   it. I believe you will be of my opinion, if you will peruse, with other
   authors who have appeared in vindication of these letters as genuine,
   the additional arguments which have been made use of by the late famous
   and learned Dr. Grabe, in the second volume of his Spicilegium.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1] The author did not live to write this second part.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. II.

   I. What facts in the history of our Saviour might be taken notice of by
   Pagan authors.

   II. What particular facts are taken notice of, and by what Pagan
   authors.

   III. How Celsus represented our Saviour's miracles.

   IV. The same representation made of them by other unbelievers, and
   proved unreasonable.

   V. What facts in our Saviour's history not to be expelled from Pagan
   writers.

   I. WE come now to consider what undoubted authorities are extant among
   Pagan writers: and here we must premise, that some parts of our
   Saviour's history may be reasonably expected from Pagans. I mean such
   parts as might be known to those who lived at a distance from Judea, as
   well as to those who were the followers and eye-witnesses of Christ.

   II. Such particulars are most of these which follow, and which are all
   attested by some one or other of those Heathen authors, who lived in or
   near the age of our Saviour and his disciples. "That Augustus Cæsar had
   ordered the whole empire to be censed or taxed," which brought our
   Saviour's reputed parents to Bethlehem: this is mentioned by several
   Roman historians, as Tacitus, Suetonius, and Dion. "That a great light,
   or a new star, appeared in the east, which directed the wise men to our
   Saviour:" this is recorded by Chalcidius. "That Herod, the king of
   Palestine, so often mentioned in the Roman history, made a great
   slaughter of innocent children," being so jealous of his successor,
   that he put to death his own sons on that account: this character of
   him is given by several historians: and this cruel fact mentioned by
   Macrobius, a Heathen author, who tells it as a known thing, without any
   mark or doubt upon it. "That our Saviour had been in Egypt:" this
   Celsus, though he raises a monstrous story upon it, is so far from
   denying, that he tells us, our Saviour learned the arts of magic in
   that country. "That Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea; that our
   Saviour was brought in judgment before him and by him condemned and
   crucified:" this is recorded by Tacitus. "That many miraculous cures
   and works, out of the ordinary course of nature, were wrought by him;
   this is confessed by Julian the apostate, Porphyry, and Hierocles, all
   of them not only Pagans, but professed enemies and persecutors of
   Christianity. "That our Saviour foretold several things which came to
   pass according to his predictions;" this was attested by Phlegon in his
   annals, as we are assured by the learned Origen against Celsus. "That
   at the time when our Saviour died, there was a miraculous darkness, and
   a great earthquake:" this is recorded by the same Phlegon the Trallian,
   who was likewise a Pagan, and freeman to Adrian the emperor. We may
   here observe, that a native of Trallium, which was not situate at so
   great a distance from Palestine, might very probably be informed of
   such remarkable events as had passed among the Jews in the age
   immediately preceding his own times, since several of his countrymen
   with whom he had conversed might have received a confused report of our
   Saviour before his crucifixion, and probably lived within the shake of
   the earthquake, and the shadow of the eclipse, which are recorded by
   this author. "That Christ was worshipped as a God among the Christians;
   that they would rather suffer death than blaspheme him: that they
   received a sacrament, and by it entered into a vow of abstaining from
   sin and wickedness," conformable to the advice given by St. Paul: "That
   they had private assemblies of worship, and used to join together in
   hymns;" this is the account which Pliny the younger gives of
   Christianity in his days, about seventy years after the death of
   Christ, and which agrees in all its circumstances with the accounts we
   have in holy writ, of the first state of Christianity after the
   crucifixion of our blessed Saviour. "That St. Peter, whose miracles are
   many of them recorded in holy writ, did many wonderful works," is owned
   by Julian the apostate, who therefore represents him as a great
   magician, and one who had in his possession a book of magical secrets,
   left him by our Saviour. "That the devils or evil spirits were subject
   to them," we may learn from Porphyry, who objects to Christianity, that
   since Jesus had begun to be worshipped, Esculapius, and the rest of the
   Gods, did no more converse with men. Nay, Celsus himself affirms the
   same thing in effect, when he says, that the power which seemed to
   reside in Christians proceeded from the use of certain names, and the
   invocation of certain demons. Origen remarks on this passage, that the
   author doubtless hints at those Christians who put to flight evil
   spirits, and healed those who were possessed with them: a fact which
   had been often seen, and which he himself had seen, as he declares in
   another part of his discourse. against Celsus. But at the same time he
   assures us, that this miraculous power was exerted by the use of no
   other name but that of Jesus; to which were added several passages in
   this history, but nothing like any invocation to demons.

   III. Celsus was so hard set with the report of our Saviour's miracles,
   and the confident attestations concerning him, that though he often
   intimates that he did not believe them to be true, yet knowing he might
   be silenced in such an answer, provides himself with another retreat,
   when beaten out of this, viz. that our Saviour was a magician. Thus he
   compares the feeding of so many thousands, at two different times, with
   a few loaves and fishes, to the magical feasts of those Egyptian
   impostors, who would present their spectators with visionary
   entertainments, that had in them neither substance nor reality: which,
   by the way, is to suppose, that a hungry and fainting multitude were
   filled by an apparition, or strengthened and refreshed with shadows. He
   knew very well that there was so many witnesses and actors, if I may
   call them such, in these two miracles, that it was impossible to refute
   such multitudes, who had doubtless sufficiently spread the fame of
   them, and was therefore in this place forced to resort to the other
   solution, that it was done by magic. It was not enough to say that a
   miracle, which appeared to so many thousand eye-witnesses, was a
   forgery of Christ's disciples; and therefore supposing them to be
   eye-witnesses, he endeavours to shew how they might be deceived.

   IV. The unconverted Heathens, who were pressed by the many authorities
   that confirmed our Saviour's miracles, as well as the unbelieving Jews,
   who had actually seen them, were driven to account for them after the
   same manner: for, to work by magic, in the Heathen way of speaking,
   was, in the language of the Jews, to cast out devils by Beelzebub the
   prince of the devils. Our Saviour, who knew that unbelievers, in all
   ages, would put this perverse interpretation on his miracles, has
   branded the malignity of those men, who, contrary to the dictates of
   their own hearts, started such an unreasonable objection as a blasphemy
   against the Holy Ghost, and declared not only the guilt, but the
   punishment of so black a crime. At the same time he condescended to
   shew the vanity and emptiness of this objection against his miracles,
   by representing, that they evidently tended to the destruction of those
   powers, to whose assistance the enemies of his doctrine then ascribed
   them: an argument, which, if duly weighed, renders the objection so
   very frivolous and groundless, that we may venture to call it even
   blasphemy against common sense. Would magic endeavour to draw off the
   minds of men from the worship which was paid to stocks and stones; to
   give them an abhorrence of those evil spirits, who rejoiced in the most
   cruel sacrifices, and in offerings of the greatest impurity; and, in
   short, to call upon mankind to exert their whole strength in the love
   and adoration of that one Being, from whom they derived existence, and
   on whom only they were taught to depend every moment for the happiness
   and continuance of it? Was it the business of magic to humanize our
   natures with compassion, forgiveness, and all the instances of the most
   extensive charity? Would evil spirits contribute to make men sober,
   chaste, and temperate; and, in a word, to produce that reformation
   which was wrought in the moral world by those doctrines of our Saviour
   that received their sanction from his miracles? Nor is it possible to
   imagine, that evil spirits would enter into a combination with our
   Saviour to cut off all their correspondence and intercourse with
   mankind, and to prevent any for the future from addicting themselves to
   those rites and ceremonies which had done them so much honour. We see
   the early effect which Christianity had on the minds of men in this
   particular, by that number of books which were filled with the secrets
   of magic, and made a sacrifice to Christianity by the converts
   mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles. We have likewise an eminent
   instance of the inconsistency of our religion with magic in the history
   of the famous Aquila. This person, who was a kinsman of the emperor
   Trajan, and likewise a man of great learning, notwithstanding he had
   embraced Christianity; could not be brought off from the studies of
   magic by the repeated admonitions of his fellow Christians; so that at
   length they expelled him their society, as rather chusing to loose the
   reputation of so considerable a proselyte, than communicate with one
   who dealt in such dark and infernal practices. Besides, we may observe,
   that all the favourers of magic were the most professed and bitter
   enemies to the Christian religion. Not to mention Simon Magus, and many
   others, I shall only take notice of those two great persecutors of
   Christianity, the emperors Adrian and Julian the apostate, both of them
   initiated in the mysteries of divination, and skilled in all the depths
   of magic, I shall only add, that evil spirits cannot be supposed to
   have concurred in the establishment of a religion which triumphed over
   them, drove them out of the places they possessed, and divested them of
   their influence on mankind: nor would I mention this particular, though
   it be unanimiously reported by all the ancient Christian authors, did
   it not appear, from the authorities above cited, that this was a fact
   confessed by Heathens themselves.

   V. We now see what a multitude of Pagan testimonies may be produced for
   all of those remarkable passages which might have been expected from
   them; and indeed of several, that, I believe, do more than answer your
   expectations, as they were not subjects, in their own nature, so
   exposed to public notoriety. It cannot be expected they should mention
   particulars, which were transacted amongst the disciples only, or among
   some few even of the disciples themselves, such as the transfiguration,
   the agony in the garden, the appearance of Christ after his
   resurrection, and others of the like nature. It was impossible for a
   Heathen author to relate these things; because, if he had believed
   them, he would no longer have been a Heathen, and by that means his
   testimony would not have been thought of so much validity. Besides, his
   very report of facts, so favourable to Christianity, would have
   prompted men to say that he was probably tainted with their doctrine.
   We have a parallel case in Hecatæus, a famous Greek historian, who had
   several passages in his book conformable to the history of the Jewish
   writers, which, when quoted by Josephus, as a confirmation of the
   Jewish history, when his Heathen adversaries could give no other answer
   to it, they would need suppose that Hecatæus was a Jew in his heart,
   though they had no other reason for it, but because his history gave
   greater authority to the Jewish than the Egyptian records.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. III.

   I. Introduction to a second list of Pagan authors, who give testimony
   of our Saviour.

   II. A passage concerning our Saviour from a learned Athenian.

   III. His Conversion from Paganism to Christianity makes his evidence
   stronger than if he had continued a Pagan.

   IV. Of another Athenian philosopher converted to Christianity.

   V. Why their conversion, instead of weakening, strengthens their
   evidence in defence of Christianity.

   VI. Their belief in our Saviour's history founded at first upon the
   principles of historical faith.

   VII. Their testimonies extended to all the particulars of our Saviour's
   history.

   VIII. As related by the four Evangelists.

   I. TO this list of Heathen writers, who make mention of our Saviour, or
   touch upon any particulars of his life, I shall add those authors who
   were at first Heathens, and afterwards converted to Christianity; upon
   which account, as I shall here shew, their testimonies are to be looked
   upon as the more authentic. And, in this list of evidences, I confine
   myself to such learned Pagans as came over to Christianity in the three
   first centuries, because those were the times in which men had the best
   means of informing themselves of the truth of our Saviour's history;
   and because, among the great number of philosophers who came in
   afterwards, under the reigns of Christian emperors, there might be
   several of them who did it partly out of worldly motives.

   II. Let us now suppose that a learned Heathen writer, who lived within
   sixty years of our Saviour's crucifixion, after having shewn that false
   miracles were generally wrought in obscurity, and before few or no
   witnesses, speaking of those which were wrought by our Saviour, has the
   following passage. "But his works were always seen, because they were
   true; they were seen by those who were healed, and by those who were
   raised from the dead. Nay, these persons who were thus healed, and
   raised, were seen not only at the time of their being healed and
   raised, but long afterwards. Nay, they were seen not only all the while
   our Saviour was upon earth, but survived after his departure out of
   this world; nay, some of them were living in our days."

   III. I dare say you would look upon this as a glorious attestation for
   the cause of Christianity, had it come from the hand of a famous
   Athenian philosopher. These forementioned words, however, are actually
   the words of one who lived about sixty years after our Saviour's
   crucifixion, and was a famous philosopher in Athens. But it will be
   said he was a convert to Christianity: now consider this matter
   impartially, and see if his testimony is not much more valid for that
   reason. Had he continued a Pagan philosopher, would not the world have
   it said that he was not sincere in what he writ, or did not believe it;
   for if so, would not they have told us he would have embraced
   Christianity? This was indeed the case of this excellent man; he had so
   thoroughly examined the truth of our Saviour's history, and the
   excellency of that religion which he taught, and was so entirely
   convinced of both, that he became a proselyte and died a martyr.

   IV. Aristides was an Athenian philosopher, at the same time famed for
   his learning and wisdom, but converted to Christianity. As it cannot be
   questioned that he perused and approved the apology of Quadratus, in
   which is the passage just now cited, he joined with him in an apology
   of his own to the same emperor on the same subject. This apology,
   though now lost, was extant in the time of Ado. Vinesis, A. D. 870, and
   highly esteemed by the most learned Athenians, as that author
   witnesses. It must have contained great arguments for the truth of our
   Saviour's history, because in it he asserted the divinity of our
   Saviour which could not but engage him in the proof of his miracles.

   V. I do allow, that generally speaking, a man is not so acceptable and
   unquestioned an evidence, in facts which make for the advancement of
   his own party. But we must consider, that, in the case before us, the
   persons to whom we appeal were of an opposite party, till they were
   persuaded of the truth of those very facts which they report. They bear
   evidence to a history in defence of Christianity; the truth of which
   history was their motive to embrace Christianity. They attest facts
   which they had heard while they were yet Heathens, and had they not
   found reason to believe them, they would have still continued Heathens,
   and have made no mention of them in their writings.

   VI. When a man is born under Christian parents, and trained up in the
   profession of that religion from a child, he generally guides himself
   by the rules of Christian faith, in believing what is delivered by the
   evangelists; but the learned Pagans of antiquity, before they became
   Christians, were only guided by the common rules of faith; that is,
   they examined the nature of the evidence which was to be met with in
   common fame, traditions, and the writings of those persons who related
   them, together with the number, concurrence, veracity, and private
   characters of those persons; and being convinced upon all accounts that
   they had the same reason to believe the history of our Saviour, as that
   of any other person to which they themselves were not actually
   eye-witnesses, they were bound, by all the rules of historical faith,
   and of right reason, to give credit to this history. This they did
   accordingly, and in consequence of it published the same truths
   themselves, suffered many afflictions, and very often death itself in
   the assertion of them. When I say, that an historical belief of the
   acts of our Saviour induced these learned Pagans to embrace his
   doctrine, I do not deny that there were many other motives which
   conduced to it, as the excellency of his precepts, the fulfiling of
   prophecies, the miracles of his disciples, the irreproachable lives and
   magnanimous sufferings of their followers, with other considerations of
   the same nature; but whatever other collateral arguments wrought more
   or less with philosophers of that age, it is certain, that a belief in
   the history of our Saviour was one motive with every new convert, and
   that upon which all others turned, as being the very basis and
   foundation of Christianity.

   VII. To this I must further add, that as we have already seen many
   particular facts which are recorded in holy writ, attested by
   particular Pagan authors, the testimony of those I am now going to
   produce, extends to the whole history of our Saviour, and to that
   continued series of actions which are related of him and his disciples
   in the books of the New Testament.

   VIII. This evidently appears from their quotations out of the
   evangelists, for the confirmation of any doctrine or account of our
   blessed Saviour. Nay, a learned man of our nation, who examined the
   writings of our most ancient fathers in another view, refers to several
   passages in Irenæus, Tertullian, Clements of Alexandria, Origen, and
   Cyprian; by which he plainly shews that each of these early writers
   ascribed to the four evangelists by name, their respective histories;
   so that there is not the least room for doubting of their belief in the
   history of our Saviour as recorded in the gospels. I shall only add,
   that three of the five fathers here mentioned, and probably four, were
   Pagans converted to Christianity, as they were all of them very
   inquisitive and deep in the knowledge of Heathen learning and
   philosophy.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. IV.

   I. Character of the times in which the Christian religion was
   propagated.

   IL And of many who embraced it.

   III. Three eminent and early instances.

   IV. Multitudes of learned men who came over to it.

   V. Belief in our Saviour's history the first motive to their
   conversion.

   VI. The names of several Pagan philosophers who were Christian
   converts.

   I. IT happened very, providentially, to the honour of the Christian
   religion, that it did not take its rise in the dark illiterate ages of
   the world, but at a time when arts and sciences were at their height,
   and when there were men who made it the business of their lives to
   search after truth, and sift the several opinions of philosophers and
   wise men, concerning the duty, the end, and chief happiness of
   reasonable creatures.

   II. Several of these, therefore, when they had informed themselves of
   our Saviour's history, and examined, with unprejudiced minds, the
   doctrines and manners of his disciples and followers, were struck and
   convinced, that they professed themselves of that sect;
   notwithstanding, by this profession, that juncture of time, they bid
   farewell to all the pleasures of this life, renounced all the views of
   ambition, engaged in an uninterrupted course of severities, and exposed
   themselves to public hatred and contempt, to sufferings of all kinds,
   and to death itself.

   III. Of this sort we may reckon those three early converts to
   Christianity, who each of them was a member of a senate famous for its
   wisdom and learning. Joseph the Arimathean was of the Jewish sanhedrim,
   Dionysius of the Athenian, Areopagus, and Flavius Clemens, of the Roman
   senate; nay, at the time of his death, consul of Rome. These three were
   so thoroughly satisfied of the truth of the Christian religion, that
   the first of them, according to all the reports of antiquity, died a
   martyr for it; as did the second, unless we disbelieve Aristides, his
   fellow citizen and contemporary; and the third, as we are informed both
   by Roman and Christian authors.

   IV. Among those innumerable multitudes, who, in most of the known
   nations of the world, came over to Christianity at its first
   appearance, we may be sure there were great numbers of wise and learned
   men, besides those whose names are in the Christian records, who,
   without doubt, took care to examine the truth of our Saviour's history
   before they would leave the religion of their country, and of their
   forefathers, for the sake of one that would not only cut them of from
   the allurements of this world, but subject them to every thing terrible
   or disagreeable in it. Tertullian tells the Roman governors, that their
   corporations, councils, armies, tribes, companies, the palace, senate,
   and courts of judicature, were filled with Christians; as Arnobius
   asserts, that men of the finest parts and learning, orators,
   grammarians, rhetoricians, lawyers, physicians, philosophers, despising
   the sentiments they had been once fond of, took up their rest in the
   Christian religion.

   V. Who can imagine that men of this character did not thoroughly inform
   themselves of the history of that person whose doctrines they embraced?
   For however consonant to reason his precepts appeared, how good soever
   were the effects which they produced in the world, nothing could have
   tempted men to acknowledge him as their God and Saviour, but their
   being firmly persuaded of the miracles he wrought, and the many
   attestations of his divine mission, which were to be met with in the
   history of his life. This was the groundwork of the Christian religion;
   and, if this failed, the whole superstructure sunk with it. This point,
   therefore, of the truth of our Saviour's history, as reckoned by the
   evangelists, is every where taken for granted in the writings of those
   who, from Pagan philosophers, became Christian authors, and who, by
   reason of their conversion, are to be looked upon as of the strongest
   collateral testimony for the truth of what is delivered concerning our
   Saviour.

   VI. Besides innumerable authors that are lost, we have the undoubted
   names, works, or fragments of several Pagan philosophers, which shew
   them to have been as learned as any unconverted Heathen authors of the
   age in which they lived. If we look into the greatest, nurseries of
   learning in those ages of the world, we find in Athens, Dionysius,
   Quadratus, Aristides, Athenagoras; and in Alexandria, Dionysius
   Clements, Ammonius, and Anatolius, to whom we may add Origen; for
   though his father was a Christian martyr, he became, without all
   controversy, the most learned and able philosopher of his age, by his
   education at Alexandria, in that famous seminary of arts and sciences.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. V.

   I. The learned Pagans had means and opportunities of informing
   themselves of the truth of our Saviour's history.

   II. From the proceedings,

   III. The charmers, sufferings,

   IV. And miracles of the persons who published it.

   V. How these first apostles perpetrated their tradition, by ordaining
   persons to succeed them.

   VI. How their successors in the three first centuries preserved their
   tradition.

   VII. That five generations might derive this tradition from Christ, to
   the end of the third century.

   VIII. Four eminent Christians that delivered it down successively to
   the year of our Lord 254.

   IX. The faith of the four above mentioned persons the same with that of
   the churches of the east, of the west and of Egypt.

   X. Another person added to them, who brings us to the year 343, and
   that many other lists might be added in as direct and short a
   succession.

   XI. Why the tradition of the three first centuries, was more authentic
   than that of any other age, proved from the conversation of the
   primitive Christians.

   XII. From the manner of initiating men into their religion.

   XIII. From the correspondence between the churches.

   XIV. From the long lives of several of Christ's disciples, of which two
   are instances.

   I. IT now therefore only remains to consider, whether these learned men
   had means and opportunities of informing themselves of the truth of our
   Saviour's history; for unless this point can be made out, their
   testimonies will appear invalid, and their inquiries ineffectual.

   II. As to this point, we must consider, that many thousands had seen
   the transactions of our Saviour in Judah; and that many hundred
   thousands had received an account of them from the mouths of those who
   were actually eye-witnesses. I shall only mention among these
   eyewitnesses, the twelve apostles, to whom we must add St. Paul, who
   had a particular call to this high office, tho' many other disciples
   and followers of Christ had also their share in the publishing this
   wonderful history. We learn from the ancient records of Christianity,
   that many of the apostles and disciples made it the express business of
   their lives, travelled into the remotest parts of the world, and in all
   places gathered multitudes about them, to acquaint them with the
   history and doctrines of their crucified Master. And indeed, were all
   christian records of these proceedings intirely lost, as many have
   been, the effect plainly evinces the truth of them; for how else,
   during the apostles' lives could Christianity have spread itself with
   such an amazing progress through the several nations of the Roman
   empire? how could it fly like lightning, and carry conviction with it
   from one end of the earth to the other?

   III. Heathens therefore of every age, sex, and quality, born in the
   most different climates, and bred up under the most different
   institutions, when they saw men of plain sense, without the help of
   learning, armed with patience and courage, instead of wealth, pomp, or
   power, expressing in their lives those excellent doctrines of morality,
   which they taught as delivered to them from our Saviour, avering that
   they had seen his miracles during his life, and conversed with him
   after his death: when, I say, they saw no suspicion of falshood,
   treachery, or worldly interest in their behaviour and conversation, and
   that they submitted to the most ignominious and cruel deaths, rather
   than retract their testimony; or even be silent in matters which they
   were to publish by our Saviour's especial command, there was no reason
   to doubt of the veracity of these facts which they related, or of the
   divine mission in which they were employed.

   IV. But even those motives to faith in our Saviour would not have been
   sufficient to have brought about, in so few years, such an incredible
   number of conversions, had not the apostles been able to exhibit still
   greater proofs of the truths which they taught. A few persons of an
   odious and despised country could not have filled the world with
   believers, had they not shown undoubted credentials from the divine
   person who sent them on such a message. Accordingly we are assured that
   they were invested with the power of working miracles, which was the
   most short and the most convincing argument that could be produced, and
   only one that was adapted to the reason of all mankind, to the
   capacities of the wise and ignorant, could overcome every cavil, and
   every prejudice. Who would not believe that our Saviour healed the
   sick, and raised the dead, when it was published by those who
   themselves often did the same miracles, in their presence, and in his
   name? Could any reasonable person imagine that God Almighty would arm
   men with such powers to authorise a lie, and establish a religion in
   the world, which was displeasing to him, or that evil spirits would
   lend them such an effectual assistance to beat down vice and idolatry?

   V. When the apostles had formed many assemblies in several parts of the
   Pagan world, who gave credit to the glad tidings of the gospel, that,
   upon their departure, the memory of what they had related might not
   perish, they appointed out of these new converts men of the best sense
   and of the most unblemished lives to preside over these several
   assemblies, and to inculcate, without ceasing, what they had heard from
   the mouths of these eye-witnesses.

   VI. Upon the death of any of these substitutes to the apostles and
   disciples of Christ, his place was filled up with some other person of
   eminence for his piety and learning, and generally a member of the same
   church, who, after his decease, was followed by another in the same
   manner by which means the succession was continued in an uninterrupted
   line. Irenæus informs us, that every church preserved a catalogue of
   its bishops in the order that they succeeded one another, and (for an
   example) produces the catalogue of those who governed the church of
   Rome in that character, which contains eight or nine persons, though
   but at a very small remove from the times of the apostles.

   Indeed the lists of bishops, which are come down to us in other
   churches, are generally filled with greater numbers than one would
   expect. But the succession was quick in the three first centuries,
   because the bishop very often ended in the martyr; for when a
   persecution arose in any place, the first fury of it fell upon this
   order of holy men, who abundantly testified, by their deaths and
   sufferings, that they did not undertake theses offices out of any
   temporal views: that they were sincere and satisfied in the belief of
   what they taught; and that they firmly adhered to what they had
   received from the apostles, as laying down their lives in the same
   hope, and upon the same principles. None can be supposed so utterly
   regardless of their own happiness as to expire in torment, and hazard
   their eternity, to support any fables and inventions of their own, or
   any forgeries of their predecessors, who had presided in the same
   church, and which might have been easily detected by the tradition of
   that particular church, as well as by the concurring testimony of
   others. To this purpose, I think it is very remarkable, that there was
   not a single martyr among those many heretics who disagreed with the
   apostolical church, and introduced several wild and absurd notions into
   the doctrines of christianity. They durst not stake their present and
   future happiness on their own chimerical imaginations, and did not only
   shun persecution, but affirmed that it was unnecessary for their
   followers to bear their religion through such fiery trials.

   VII: We may fairly reckon, that this first age of apostles and
   disciples, with that second generation of many who were their immediate
   converts, extended itself to the middle of the second century and
   several of the third generation from these last mentioned, which was
   but the fifth from Christ, continued to the end of the third century.
   Did we know the ages and numbers of the members in every particular
   church which was planted by the apostles, I doubt not but in most of
   them there might be found five persons, who, in a continued series,
   would reach through these three centuries of years, that is, till the
   265th from the death of our Saviour.

   VIII. Among the accounts of those very few out of innumerable
   multitudes, who had embraced Christianity, I shall single out four
   persons eminent for their lives, their writings and their sufferings,
   that were successively contemporaries, and bring us down as far as to
   the year of our Lord 254. St. John who was the beloved disciple, and
   conversed the most intimately with our Saviour, lived till Anno Dom.
   100. Polycarp who was the disciple of St. John, and had conversed with
   others of the apostles and. disciples of our Lord, lived till Anno 167,
   though his life was shortened by martyrdom. Irenæus, who was the
   disciple of Polycarp, and had conversed with many of the immediate
   disciples of the apostles, lived, at the lowest computation of his age,
   till the year 202, when he was likewise cut off by martyrdom, in which
   year the great Origen was appointed regent of the cathecatic school at
   Alexandria; and as he was the miracle of that age, for industry,
   learning, and philosophy, he was looked on as the champion of
   Christianity, till the year 254, when, if he did not suffer martyrdom,
   as some think he did, he was certainly actuated by the spirit of it, as
   appears in the whole course of his life and writings; nay, he had often
   been put to the torture, and had undergone trials worse than death. As
   he conversed with the most eminent Christians of his time in Egypt, and
   in the east brought over multitudes both from heresy and heathanism,
   left behind him several disciples of great fame and learning, there is
   no question but there were considerable numbers of those who knew him,
   and had been his hearers, scholars, or proselytes, that lived till the
   end of the third century, and to the reign of Constantine the Great.

   IX. It is evident to those who read the lives and writings of Polycarp,
   Irenæus, and Origen, that these three fathers believed the accounts
   which are given of our Saviour in the four evangelists, and had
   undoubted arguments, that not only St. John, but many others of our
   Saviour's disciples, published the same accounts of him. To which we
   must subjoin this further remark, that what was believed by these
   fathers on this subject, was likewise the belief of the main body of
   Christians in those successive ages when they flourished since Polycarp
   cannot but be looked upon, if we consider the respect that was paid
   him, as the representative of the eastern churches in this particular,
   Irenæus of the western upon the same account, and Origen of those
   established in Egypt.

   X. To these I might add Paul the famous hermit, who retired from the
   Decian persecution five or six years before Origen's death, and lived
   till the year 343. I have only discovered one of those channels by
   which the history of our Saviour might be conveyed pure and
   unadulterated through those several ages that produced those Pagan
   philosophers, whole testimonies I make use of for the truth of our
   Saviour's history. Some or other of these philosophers came into the
   Christian faith during its infancy, in the several periods of these
   three first centuries, when they had such means of informing themselves
   in all the particulars of our Saviour's history. I must further add,
   though I have here only chosen this single link of martyrs, I might
   find out others among those names which are still extant, that
   delivered down this account of our Saviour in a successive tradition,
   till the whole Roman empire became Christians; as there is no question
   but numberless series of witnesses might follow one another in the same
   order, and in as short a chain, and that perhaps in every single
   church, had the names and ages of the most eminent primative Christians
   been transmited to us with the like certainty.

   XI. But to give this consideration more force, we must take notice,
   that the tradition of the first ages of Christianity had several
   circumstances peculiar to it, which made it more authentic than any
   other tradition in any other age of the world. The Christians, who
   carried their religion thro' so many general and particular
   persecutions, were incessantly comforting and supporting one another,
   with the example and history of our Saviour and his apostles. It was
   the subjec not only of their solemn assemblies, but of their private
   visits and conversations. Our virgins, says Tatian, who lived in the
   second century, "discourse over their distaffs on divine subjects."
   Indeed, when religion was woven into the civil government, and
   flourished under the protection of the emperors, men's thoughts and
   discourses were, as they are now, full of secular affairs; but in the
   three first centuries of Christianity, men who embraced this religion,
   had given up all their interests in this world, and lived in a
   perpetual preperation for the next, as not knowing how soon they might
   be called to it; so that they had little else to talk of, but the life
   and doctrines of that divine person, which was their hope, their
   encouragement, and glory. We cannot therefore imagine that there was a
   single person arrived at any degree of age or consideration, who had
   not heard and repeated, above a thousand times in his life, all the
   particulars of our Saviour's birth, life, death, resurrection, and
   ascention.

   XII. Especially if we consider that they could not then be received as
   Christians till they had undergone several examinations. Persons of
   riper years, who flocked daily into the church during the three first
   centuries, were obliged to pass through many repeated instructions, and
   give a strict account of their proficiency, before they were admitted
   to baptism. And as for those who were born of Christian parents, and
   had been baptized in their infancy, they were with the like care
   prepared and disciplined for confirmation, which they could not arrive
   at, till they were found, upon examination, to have made a sufficient
   progress in the knowledge of Christianity.

   XIII. We must further observe, that there was not only in those times
   this religious conversation among private Christians, but a constant
   correspondence between the churches that were established by the
   apostles or their successors in the several parts of the world. If any
   new doctrine was started, or any fact reported of our Saviour, a strict
   enquiry was made among the churches, especially those planted by the
   apostles themselves, whether they had received any such doctrine or
   account of our Saviour, from the mouths of the apostles, or the
   tradition of those Christians who had preceded the present members of
   the churches which were thus consulted. By this means, when any novelty
   was published, it was immediately detected and censured.

   XIV. St. John, who lived so many years after our Saviour, was appealed
   to in these emergencies as the living oracle of the church; and as his
   oral testimony lasted the first century, many have observed, that, by a
   particular providence of God, several of our Saviour's disciples, and
   of the early converts of his religion, lived to a very great age, that
   they might personally convey the truth of the gospel to those times,
   which were very remote from the first publication of it. Of these,
   besides St. John, we have a remarkable instance in Simeon, who was one
   of the seventy sent forth, by our Saviour, to publish the gospel before
   his crucifixion, and a near kinsman of our Lord. This venerable person,
   who had probably heard with his own ears our Saviour's prophecy of the
   destruction of Jerusalem, presided over the church established in that
   city, during the time of its memorable siege, and drew his congregation
   out of those dreadful and unparalelled calamities which befel his
   countrymen, by following the advice our Saviour had given, when they
   should see Jerusalem encompassed with armies, and the Roman standards,
   or abomination of desolation, set up. He lived till the year of our
   Lord 107, when he was martyred under the emperor Trajan.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. VI.

   I. The tradition of the apostles secured by other excellent
   instructions;

   II. But chiefly by the writings of the evangelists.

   III. The diligence of the disciples and first Christian converts to
   send abroad these writings.

   IV. That the written account of our Saviour was the same with that
   delivered by tradition;

   V. Proved from the reception of the gospel by those churches which were
   established before it was written.

   VI. From the uniformity of what was believed in the several churches.

   VII. From a remarkable passage in Irenæus.

   VIII. Records which are now lost of use to the three first centuries,
   for confirming the history of our Saviour.

   IX. Instances of such records.

   I. THUS far we see how the learned Pagans might apprize themselves,
   from oral information, oral information, of the particulars of our
   Saviour's history. They could hear, in every church planted in every
   distant part of the earth, the account which was there received and
   preserved among them, of the history of our Saviour. They could learn
   the names, and characters of those first missionaries that brought to
   them these accounts and the miracles by which God Almighty attested
   their reports. But the apostles and disciples of Christ, to preserve
   the history of his life, and to secure their accounts of him from error
   and oblivion, did not only set aside certain persons for that purpose,
   as has been already shewn, but appropriated certain days to the
   commemoration of those facts which they had related, concerning him.
   The first day of the week was in all its returns a perpetual memorial
   of his resurrection as the devotional exercises adapted to Friday and
   Saturday were to denote to all ages that he was crucified on the one of
   those days and that he rested in the grave on the other. You may apply
   the same remark to several of the annual festivals instituted by the
   apostles themselves, or at furtherest by their immediate successors, in
   memory of the most important particulars in our Saviour's history to
   which we must add the sacraments instituted by our Lord himself, and
   many of those rites and ceremonies which obtained in the most early
   times of the church. These are to be regarded as standing marks of such
   facts as were delivered by those who were eye-witnesses to them, and
   which were contrived with great wisdom to last till time should be no
   more. These, without any other means, might have, in some measure,
   conveyed to posterity the memory of several transactions in the history
   of our Saviour, as they were related by his disciples. At least, the
   reason of these institutions, though they might be forgotten, and
   obscured by a long course of years, could not but be very well known by
   those who lived in the three first centuries; and a means of informing
   the inquisitive Pagans in the truth of our Saviour's history, that
   being the view in which I am to consider them.

   II. But lest such a tradition, though guarded by so many expedients,
   should wear out by the length of time, the four evangelists, within
   above fifty, or, as Theodoret affirms, thirty years after our Saviour's
   death, while the memory of his actions was fresh among them, consigned
   to writing that history, which for some years had been published only
   by the mouths of the apostles and disciples. The further consideration
   of these holy penmen will fall under another part of this discourse.

   III. It will be sufficient to observe here, that in the age which
   succeeded the apostles, many of their immediate disciples sent or
   carried in person the books of the four evangelists, which had been
   written by the apostles, or at least approved by them, to most of the
   churches which they had planted in the different parts of the world.
   This was done with so much diligence, that when Pantænus, a man of
   great learning and piety, had travelled into India for the propagation
   of Christianity, about the year of our Lord 200, he found among that
   remote people the gospel of St. Matthew, which, upon his return from
   that country, he brought with him to Alexandria. This gospel is
   generally supposed to have been left in those parts by St. Bartholomew,
   the apostle of the Indies, who probably carried it with him, before the
   writings of the three other evangelists were published.

   IV. That the history of our Saviour as recorded by the evangelists, was
   the same with that which had been before delivered by the apostles and
   disciples, will further appear in the prosecution of this discourse,
   and may be gathered from the following considerations.

   V. Had these writings differed from the sermons of the first planters
   of Christianity, either in history or doctrine, there is no question
   but they would have been rejected by those churches which they had
   already formed. But so consistent and uniform was the relation of the
   apostles, that those histories .appeared to be nothing else but their
   tradition and oral attestations made fixed and permanent. Thus was the
   fame of our Saviour, which in so few years had gone through the whole
   earth, confirmed and perpetuated by such records as would preserve the
   traditionary account of him to after ages, and rectify it, if at any
   time, by passing through several generations, it might drop any part
   that was material, or contract any thing that was false or fictitious.

   VI. Accordingly we find the same Jesus Christ, who was born of a
   virgin, who had wrought many miracles in Palestine, who was crucified,
   rose again, and ascended intoheaven: I say, the same Jesus Christ had
   been preached, and was worshipped, in Germany, France, Spain, and Great
   Britain; in Parthia, Media, Mesopotamia, Armenia, Phrygia, Asia, and
   Pamphylia; in Italy, Egypt, Afric, and beyond Cyrene, India, and
   Persia; and, in short, in all the islands and provinces that are
   visited by the rising or the setting sun. The same account of our
   Saviour's life and doctrine was delivered by thousands of preachers,
   and believed in thousands of places, who all, as fast as it could be
   conveyed to them, received the same account in writing from the four
   evangelists.

   VII. Irenæus to this purpose very aptly remarks, that those barbarous
   nations, who in his time were not possessed of the written gospels, and
   had only learned the history of our Saviour from those who had
   converted them to Christianity before the gospels were written, had
   among them the same accounts of our Saviour which are to be met with in
   the four evangelists: an incontestible proof of the harmony and
   concurrence between the holy scripture and the tradition of the
   churches in those early times of Christianity.

   VIII. Thus we see what opportunities the learned and inquisitive
   Heathens had of informing themselves of the truth of our Saviour's
   history during the three first centuries, especially as they lay nearer
   one than another to the fountain-head: beside which, there were many
   uncontroverted traditions, records of Christianity, and particular
   histories, that then thew light into those matters, but are now
   entirely lost, by which, at that time, any appearance of contradiction,
   of seeming difficulties, in the history of the evangelists, were fully
   cleared up and explained; though we meet with fewer appearances of this
   nature in the history of our Saviour, as related by the four
   evangelists, than in the accounts of any other person, published by
   such a number of different historians, who lived at so great a distance
   from the present age.

   IX. Among those records which are lost, and were of great use to the
   primitive Christians, is the letter to Tiberius, which I have already
   mentioned; that of Marcus Aurelius, which I shall take notice of
   hereafter; the writings of Hegesippus, who had drawn down the history
   of Christianity to his own time, which was not beyond the middle of the
   second century; the genuine Sybilline oracles, which, in the first age
   of the church, were easily distinguished from the spurious: the records
   preserved in particular churches, with many others of the same nature.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. VII.

   I. The sight of miracles in those ages, a further confirmation of Pagan
   philosophers in the Christian faith.

   II. The credibility of such miracles.

   III. A particular instance.

   IV. Martyrdom, why considered as a standing miracle.

   V. Primitive Christians thought many of the martyrs were supported by a
   miraculous power.

   VI. Proved from the nature of their sufferings.

   VII. How martyrs further induced the Pagans to embrace Christianity.

   I. THERE were other means which I find had a great influence on the
   learned of the three first centuries, to create and confirm in them the
   belief of our blessed Saviour's history, which ought not to be passed
   over in silence. The first was, the opportunity they enjoyed of examing
   those miracles, which were on several occasions performed by
   Christians, and appeared in the church more or less during these first
   ages of Christianity. These had great weight with the men I am now
   speaking of, who, from learned Pagans, became fathers of the church;
   for they frequently boast of them in their writings, as attestations
   given by God himself to the truth of their religion.

   II. At the same time that these learned men declare how disingenuous,
   base, and wicked it would be, how much beneath the dignity of
   philosophy, and contrary to the precepts of Christianity, to utter
   falsehoods or forgeries in the support of a cause, though never so just
   in itself, they confidently assert this miraculous power which then
   subsisted in the church; nay, tell us, that themselves had been eye
   witnesses of it at several times, and in several instances; nay, appeal
   to the Heathens themselves for the truth of several facts they relate;
   nay, challenge them to be prefect at their assemblies, and satisfy
   themselves if they doubt of it; nay, we find that Pagan authors have in
   some instances confessed this miraculous power.

   III. The letter of Marcus Aurelius, whose army was preserved by a
   refreshing shower, at the same time that his enemies were discomfited
   by a storm of lightning, and which the Heathen historians themselves
   allow to have been supernatural, and the effect of magic; I say, this
   letter, which ascribed this unexpected assistance to the prayers of the
   Christians, who then served in the army, would have been thought an
   unquestionable testimony of the miraculous power I am speaking of, had
   it been still preserved. It is sufficient for me in this place to take
   notice, that this was one of those miracles which had its influence on
   the learned converts, because it is related by Tertullian, and the very
   letter appealed to. When their learned men saw sickness and frenzy
   cured, the dead raised, the oracles put to silence, the demons and evil
   spirits forced to confess themselves no gods, by persons who only made
   use of prayer and adjurations in the name of their crucified Saviour,
   how could they doubt of their Saviour's power on the like occasions, as
   represented to them by the traditions of the church, and the writings
   of the evangelists?

   IV. Under this head, I cannot omit that which appears to me a standing
   miracle in the three first centuries I mean, that amazing and
   supernatural courage or patience which was shewn by innumerable
   multitudes of martyrs, in those slow and painful torments that were
   inflicted on them. I cannot conceive a man placed in the burning iron
   chair at Lyons, amid the insults and mockeries of a crowded
   amphitheatre, and still keeping his seat; or stretched upon a gate of
   iron, over coals of fire, and breathing out his soul among the
   exquisite sufferings of such a tedious execution, rather than renounce
   his religion or blaspheme his Saviour. Such trials seem to me above the
   strength of human nature, able to overbear duty, reason, faith,
   conviction, nay, and the most absolute certainty of a future state.
   Humanity, unassisted in an extraordinary manner, must have shaken off
   the present pressure, and have delivered itself out of such a dreadful
   distress, by any means that could have been suggested by it. We can
   easily imagine, that many persons, in so good a cause, might have laid
   down their lives at the gibbet, the stake, or the block but to expire
   leisurely among the most exquisite tortures, when they might come out
   of them, even by a mental reservation, or an hypocrisy, which was not
   without a possibility of being followed by repentance, and forgiveness,
   has something in it so far beyond the force and natural strength of
   mortals, that one cannot but think there was some miraculous power to
   support the sufferer.

   V. We find the church of Smyrna, in that admirable letter, which gives
   an account of the death of Polycarp, their beloved bishop, mentioning
   the cruel torments of other early martyrs for Christianity, are of
   opinion that our Saviour stood by them in a vision, and personally
   conversed with them, to give them strength and comfort during the
   bitterness of their long continued agonies: and we have the story of a
   young man, who, having suffered many tortures, escaped with life, and
   told his fellow Christians that the pain of them had been rendered
   tolerable, by the presence of an angel who stood by him, and wiped off
   the tears and sweat which ran down his face whilst he lay under his
   sufferings. We are assured at least, that the first martyr for
   Christianity was encouraged in his last moments, by a vision of that
   divine person for whom he suffered, and into whose pretence he was then
   hastening.

   VI. Let any man calmly lay his hand upon his heart, and, after reading
   these terrible conflicts in which the ancient martyrs and confessors
   were engaged, when they passed through such new inventions and
   varieties of pain as tired their tormentors, and ask himself, however
   zealous and sincere he is in his religion, whether, under such acute
   and lingering tortures, he could still have held fast his integrity,
   and have professed his faith to the last; without a supernatural
   assistance of some kind or other. For my part, when I consider that it
   was not an unaccountable obstincy in a single man, or in any particular
   set of men, in some extraordinary juncture; but that there were
   multitudes of each fact, of every age, of different countries and
   conditions, who, for near 300 years together, made this glorious
   confession of their faith in the midst of tortures, and in the hour of
   death; I must conclude, that they were either of another make from what
   men are at present, or that they had such miraculous supports as were
   peculiar to those times of Christianity; when without them the very
   name of it might have been extinguished.

   VII. It is certain that the deaths and sufferings of the primitive
   Christians had a great share in the conversion of those learned Pagans
   who lived in the ages of persecution, which, with some intervals and
   abatements, lasted near three hundred years after our Saviour. Justin
   Martyr, Tertullian, Lactantius, Arnobius, and others, tell us, that
   this first of all alarmed their curiosity, roused their attention, and
   made them seriously inquisitive into the nature of that religion which
   could endue the mind with so much strength, and overcome the fear of
   death, nay, raised an earnest desire of it though it appeared in all
   its terrors. This they found had not been effected by all the doctrines
   of those philosophers whom they had thoroughly studied, and who had
   been labouring at this great point. The sight of these dying and
   tormented martyrs engaged them to search into the history and doctrines
   of him for whom they suffered. The more they searched, the more they
   were convinced; till their conviction grew so strong, they themselves
   embraced the same truths, and either actually laid down their lives, or
   were always in readiness to do it, rather than depart from them.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. VIII.

   I. The completion of our Saviour's Prophecies confirmed Pagans in their
   belief of the gospel.

   II. Origen's observation on our Saviour's disciples being brought
   before kings and governors;

   III. On their being persecuted for their religion;

   IV. On their preaching the gospel to all nations.

   V. On the destruction of Jerusalem, and ruin of the Jewish oeconomy.

   VI. These arguments strengthened by what has happened since Origen's
   time.

   I. THE second of these extraordinary means, of great use to the learned
   and inquisitive Pagans of the first three centuries, for evincing the
   truth of the history of our Saviour, was the completion of such
   prophecies as are recorded of him in the evangelists. They could not
   indeed form any arguments from what he foretold, and was fulfilled
   during his life, because both the prophecy and the completion were over
   before they were published by the evangelists; though as Origen
   observes, what end could there be in forging some of these predictions,
   as that of St. Peter's denying his Master, and all his disciples
   forsaking him in the greatest extremity, which reflects so much shame
   on the great apostle, and on all his companions? Nothing but a strict
   adherence to truth, and to matters of fact, could have prompted the
   evangelists to relate a circumstance so disadvantageous to their own
   reputation, as that father has well observed.

   II. But to pursue his reflections on this subject: There are
   predictions of our Saviour recorded by the evangelists, which were not
   completed till after their deaths, and had no likelihood of being so,
   when they were pronounced by our blessed Saviour. Such was that
   wonderful notice he gave them, that they should be brought before
   governors, and kings, for his sake, for a testimony against them and
   the Gentiles, Mat. x. 28. with the other like prophecies, by which he
   foretold that his disciples were to be persecuted. Is there any other
   doctrine in the world, says this father, whose followers are punished?
   can the enemies of Christ say, that he knew his opinions were false and
   impious, and that therefore he might well conjecture and foretel what
   would be the treatment of those persons who would embrace them?
   Supposing his doctrines were really such, why should this be the
   consequence? What likelihood that men should be brought before kings
   and governors for opinions and tenets of any kind, when this never
   happened even to the Epicureans, who absolutely denied a providence;
   nor to the Peripatetics themselves, who laughed at the prayers and
   sacrifices which were made to the Divinity? Are there any but the
   Christians who, according to this prediction of our Saviour, being
   brought before kings and governors for his sake, are pressed to their
   latest gasp of breath, by their respective judges, to renounce
   Christianity, and to procure their liberty and rest, by offering the
   same sacrifices, and taking the same oaths that others did?

   III. Consider the time when our Saviour pronounced those words, Mat. x.
   32. 33. "Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will I confess also
   before my Father who is in heaven: but whosoever shall deny me before
   men, him will I also deny before my Father who is in heaven." Had you
   heard him speak after this manner, when as yet his disciples were under
   no such trials, you would certainly have said within yourself, if these
   speeches of Jesus are true, and if, according to his prediction,
   governors and kings undertake to ruin and destroy those who shall
   profess themselves his disciples, we will believe, not only that he is
   a prophet, but that he has received power from God sufficient to
   preserve and propagate his religion; and that he would never talk in
   such a peremptory and discouraging manner, were he not assured that he
   was able to subdue the most powerful opposition, that could be made
   against the faith and doctrine which he taught.

   IV. Who is not struck with admiration, when he represents to himself
   our Saviour at that time foretelling, that his Gospel should be
   preached in all the world, for a witness unto all nations, or, as
   Origen, (who rather quotes the sense than the words) to serve for a
   conviction to kings, and people, when, at the same time, he finds that
   his Gospel has accordingly been preached to Greeks and Barbarians, to
   the learned and to the ignorant, and that there is no quality or
   condition of life able to exempt men from submitting to the doctrine of
   Christ? As for us, says this great author, in another part of his book
   against Celsus, "When we see every day those events exactly
   accomplished which our Saviour foretold at so great a distance; that
   his Gospel is preached in ail the world, Mat. xxiv. 14. that his
   disciples go and teach all nations, Mat. xxviii. 19. and that those who
   have received his doctrine, are brought for his sake before governors,
   and before kings, Mat. x. 18. we are filled with admiration, and our
   faith in him is confirmed more and more. What clearer and stronger
   proofs can Celsus ask for the truth of what he spoke?"

   V. Origen insists likewise with great. strength on that wonderful
   prediction of our Saviour concerning the destruction of Jerusalem,
   pronounced at a time, as he observes, when there was no likelihood nor
   appearance of it. This has been taken notice of, and inculcated by so
   many others, that I shall refer you to what this father has said on the
   subject in the first book against Celsus. And as o the accomplishment
   of this remarkable prophecy, I shall only observe, that whoever reads
   the account given us by Josephus, without knowing his character, and
   compares it with what our Saviour foretold, would think the historian
   had been a Christian, and that he had nothing else in view but to
   adjust the event to the prediction.

   VI. I cannot quit this head without taking notice, that Origen would
   still have triumphed more in the foregoing arguments, had he lived an
   age longer, to have seen the Roman emperors, and all their governors
   and provinces, submitting themselves to the Christian religion, and
   glorying in its profession, as so many kings and sovereigns still place
   their relation to Christ at the head of their titles.

   How much greater confirmation of his faith would he have received, had
   he seen our Saviour's prophecy stand good in the destruction of the
   temple, and the dissolution of the Jewish oeconomy, when Jews and
   Pagans united all their endeavours, under Julian the apostate, to
   baffle and falsify the prediction? The great preparations that were
   made for rebuilding the temple, with the hurricane, earthquake, and
   eruptions of fire, that destroyed the work, and terrified those
   employed in the attempt from proceeding in it, are related by many
   historians of the same age, and the substance of the story testified
   both by Pagan and Jewish writers, as Ammianus Marcellinus, and Zamath
   David. The learned Chrystome, in a sermon against the Jews, tells them,
   this fact was then fresh in the memories even of their young men; that
   it happened but twenty years ago, and that it was attested by all the
   inhabitants of Jerusalem, where they might still see the marks of it in
   the rubish of that work, from which the Jews, desisted in so great a
   fright, and which even Julian had not the courage to carry on. This
   fact, which is in itself so miraculous, and so indisputable, brought
   over many of the Jews to Christianity, and shows us, that after our
   Saviour's prophecy against it, the temple could not be preserved from
   the plow passing over it by all the care of Titus, who would fain have
   prevented its destruction, and that instead of being re-edified by
   Julian, all his endeavours towards it did but still more literaly
   accomplish our Saviour's prediction, that not one stone should be left
   upon another.

   The ancient Christians were so entirely persuaded of the force of our
   Saviour's prophecy, and of the punishment which the Jews had drawn upon
   themselves and upon their children, for the treatment which the Messiah
   had received at their hands, that they did not doubt but they would
   always remain an abandoned and despised people, an hissing and an
   astonishment, among the nations, as they are to this day. In short that
   they had lost their peculiarity of being God's people, which was now
   transferred to the body of Christians, and which preserved the church
   of Christ among all the conflicts, difficulties, and persecutions, in
   which it was engaged, as it had preserved the Jewish government and
   oeconomy for so many ages, whilst it had the same truth and vital
   principle in it, notwithstanding it was so frequently in danger of
   being utterly abolished and destroyed. Origen, in his fourth book
   against Celsus, mentioning their being cast out of Jerusalem, the place
   to which their worship was annexed, deprived of their temple and
   sacrifice, their religious rites and solemnities, and scattered over
   the face of the earth, ventures to assure them, with a face of
   confidence, that they would never be re-established since they had
   committed that horrid crime against the Saviour of the world. This was
   a bold assertion in the good man, who knew how this people had been so
   wonderfully re-established in former times, when they were almost
   swallowed up, and in the most desperate state of desolation, as in
   their deliverance out of the Babylonish captivity, and the oppressions
   of Antiochus Epiphanes. Nay, he knew that, within less than an hundred
   years before his own time, the Jews had made such a powerful effort for
   their re-establishment under Barchocap, in the reign of Adrian, as
   shook the whole Roman empire. But he founded his opinion on a sure word
   of prophecy, and on the punishment they had so justly incurred; and we
   find by a long experience of 1500 years, that he was not mistaken, nay,
   that his opinion gathers strength daily, since the Jews are now at a
   greater distance from any probability of such a re-establishment than
   they were when Origen wrote.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. IX.

   I. The lives of primitive Christians another means of bringing learned
   Pagans into, their religion.

   II. The change and reformation of their manners.

   III. This looked upon as supernatural by the learned Pagans.

   IV. And strengthened the accounts given of our Saviour's life and
   history.

   V. The Jewish prophecies of our Saviour an argument for the Heathens'
   belief:

   VI. Pursued:

   VII. Purfued.

   I. THERE was one other means enjoyed by the learned Pagans of the three
   fist centuries, for satisfying them in the truth of our Saviour's
   history which I might have flung under one of the foregoing heads but
   as it is so shining a particular, and does so much honour to our
   religion, I shall make a distinct article of it, and only consider it
   with regard to the subject I am upon: I mean the lives and manners of
   those holy men who believed in Christ during the first ages of
   Christianity. I should be thought to advance a paradox, should I affirm
   that there were more Christians in the world during those times of
   persecution than there are at present in these which we call the
   flourishing times of Christianity. But this will be found an
   indisputable truth, if we form our calculation upon the opinions which
   prevailed in those days, that every one who lives in the habitual
   practice of any voluntary sin actually cuts himself off from the
   benefits and profession of Christianity, and whatever he may call
   himself, is in reality no Christian, nor ought to be esteemed as such.

   II. In the time that we are now surveying, the Christian religion
   shewed its full force and efficacy on the minds of men, and by many
   examples demonstrated what great and generous souls it was capable of
   producing. It exalted and refined its proselytes, to a very high degree
   of perfection, and set them far above the pleasures, and even the
   pains, of this life. It strengthened the infirmity, and broke the
   fierceness of human nature. It lifted up the minds of the ignorant to
   the knowledge and worship of him that made them, and inspired the
   vicious with a rational devotion, a strict purity of heart, and an
   unbounded love to their fellow-creatures. In proportion as it spread
   thro' the world it seemed to change mankind into another species of
   beings. No sooner was a convert initiated into it, but, by an easy
   figure, he became a new man, and both acted and looked upon himself as
   one regenerated and born a second time into another state of existence.

   III. It is not my business to be more particular in the accounts of
   primitive Christianity which have been exhibited so well by others, but
   rather to observe, that the Pagan converts, of whom I am now speaking,
   mention this great reformation of those who had been the greatest
   sinners, with that sudden and surprising change which it made in the
   lives of the most profligate, as having something in it supernatural,
   miraculous, and more than human. Origen represents this power in the
   Christian religion, as no less wonderful than that of curing the lame
   and blind, or cleansing the leper. Many others represented it in the
   same light, and looked upon it as an argument, that there was a certain
   divinity in that religion which showed itself in such strange and
   glorious effects.

   IV. This therefore was a great means not only of recommending
   Christianity to honest and learned Heathens, but of confirming them in
   the belief of our Saviour's history, when they saw multitudes of
   virtuous men daily forming themselves upon his example, animated by his
   precepts, and actuated by that Spirit which he had promised to send
   among his disciples.

   V. But I find no argument made a stronger impression on the minds of
   these eminent Pagan converts, for strengthening their faith in the
   history of our Saviour, than the predictions relating to him in those
   old prophetic writings, which were deposited among the hands of the
   greatest enemies to Christianity, and owned by them to have been extant
   many ages before his appearance. The learned Heathen converts were
   astonished to see the whole history of their Saviour's life published
   before he was born, and to find that the evangelists and prophets, in
   their accounts of the Messiah, differed only in point of time; the one
   foretelling what should happen to him, and the other describing those
   very particulars as what had actually happened. This our Saviour
   himself was pleased to make use of as the strongest argument of his
   being the promised Messiah, and without it would hardly have reconciled
   his disciples to the ignominy of his death, as in that remarkable
   passage which mentions his conversation with the two disciples on the
   day of his resurrection. St. Luke xxiv. 13. to the end.

   VI. The Heathen converts, after having travelled through all human
   learning, and fortified their minds with the knowledge of arts and
   sciences, were particularly qualified to examine these prophecies with
   great care and impartiality, and without prejudice or prepossession. If
   the Jews, on the one side, put an unnatural interpretation on these
   prophecies, to evade the force of them in their controversies with the
   Christians; or if the Christians on the other side, overstrained
   several passages in their applications of them, as it often happens
   among men of the best understanding, when their minds are heated with
   any consideration that bears a more than ordinary weight with it the
   learned Heathens may be looked upon as neuters in the matter, when all
   these prophecies were new to them, and their education had left the
   interpretation of them free and indifferent. Besides, these learned men
   among the primitive Christians, knew how the Jews, who had preceded our
   Saviour, interpreted these predictions, and the several marks by which
   they acknowledged the Messiah would be discovered, and how those of the
   Jewish doctors, who succeeded him, had deviated from the
   interpretations and doctrines of their forefathers, on purpose to
   stifle their own conviction.

   VII. This set of arguments had therefore an invincible force with those
   Pagan philosophers who became Christians, as we find in most of their
   writings. They could, not disbelieve our Saviour's history, which so
   exactly agreed with every thing that had been written of him many ages
   before his birth, nor doubt of those circumstances being fulfiled in
   him, which could not be true of any person that lived in the world
   besides himself. This wrought the greatest confusion in the unbelieving
   Jews, and the greatest conviction in the Gentiles, who every where
   speak with astonishment of these truths they met with in this new
   magazine of learning which was opened to them, and carry the point so
   far as to think whatever excellent doctrine they had met with among
   Pagan writers had been stolen from their conversation with the Jews, or
   from the perusal of these writings which they had in their custody.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

ADDITIONAL

DISCOURSES.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. I.

OF GOD AND HIS ATTRIBUTES.

     Qui mare et terras variisque mundum
     Temperat horis:
     Unde nil majus generatur ipso,
     Nec viget quicquam simile aut secundum.

     Hor. Od. 12. Lib. I. V. 15.


     Who guides below, and rules above,

     The great Disposer and the mighty King:

     Than he none greater, next him none,

     That can be, is or was;

     Supreme he singly fills the throne.

     Creech.

   SIMONIDES, being armed by Dionysius the tyrant what God was, desired a
   day's time to consider of it before he made his reply. When the day was
   expired, he desired two days; and afterwards, instead of returning his
   answer, demanded still double time to consider of it. This great poet
   and philosopher, the more he contemplated the nature of the Deity,
   found that he waded but the more out of his depth; and that he lost
   himself in the thought, instead of finding an end of it.

   If we consider the idea which wise men, by the light of reason, have
   framed of the Divine Being, it amounts to this: that he has in him all
   the perfection of a spiritual nature; and since we have no notion of
   any kind of spiritual perfection but what we discover in our own souls,
   we join infinitude to each kind of these perfections, and what is a
   faculty, in a human soul, becomes an attribute in God. We exist in
   place and time, the Divine Being fills the immensity of space with his
   presence, and inhabits eternity. We are possessed of a little power and
   a little knowledge, the Divine Being is almighty and omniscient. In
   short, by adding infinity to any kind of perfection we enjoy, and by
   joining all these different kinds of perfections in one being, we form
   our idea of the great Sovereign of nature.

   Though every one who thinks must have made this observation, I shall
   produce Mr. Locke's authority to the same purpose, out of his essay on
   human understanding. "If, we examine the idea we have of the
   incomprehensible Supreme Being, we shall find, that we come by it the
   same way; and that the complex ideas we have both: of God and separate
   spirits, are made up of the simple ideas we receive from reflection: v.
   g. from having, by what we experience in ourselves, got the ideas of
   existence and duration, of knowledge and power, of pleasure and
   happiness, and of several other qualities and powers, which it is
   better to have, than to be without; when we would frame an idea the
   most suitable we can to the Supreme Being, we enlarge every one of
   these with our idea of infinity; and so, putting them togther, make our
   complex idea of God."

   It is not impossible that there may be many kinds of spiritual
   perfection, besides those which are lodged in an human soul; but it is
   impossible that we should have ideas of any kinds of perfection, except
   those of which we have some small rays and short imperfect strokes in
   ourselves. It would be therefore a very high presumption to determine
   whether the Supreme Being has not many more attributes than those which
   enter into our conceptions of him. This is certain, that if there be
   any kind of spiritual perfection which is not marked out in an human
   soul, it belongs, in its fulness, to the Divine Nature.

   Several eminent philosophers have imagined that the soul, in her
   separate state, may have new faculties springing up in her, which she
   is not capable of exerting during her present union with the body; and
   whether these faculties may not correspond with other attributes in the
   Divine Nature, and open to us hereafter new matter of wonder and
   adoration, we are altogether ignorant. This, as I have said before, we
   ought to acquiesce in, that the Sovereign Being, the great author of
   nature, has in him all possible perfection, as well in kind as in
   degree; to speak according to our methods of conceiving. I shall only
   add under this head, that when we have raised our notion of this
   infinite Being as high as it is possible for the mind of man to go, it
   will fall infinitely short of what he really is. There is no end of his
   greatness; the most exalted creature he has made, is only capable of
   adoring it, none but himself can comprehend it.

   The advice of the son of Sirach is very just and sublime in this light.
   "By his word all things consist. We may speak much, and yet come short:
   wherefore in sum, he is all. How shall we be able to magnify him? For
   he is great above all his works. The Lord is terrible and very great;
   and marvellous in his power. When you glorify the Lord, exalt him as
   much as you can; for even yet will he far exceed. And, when you exalt
   him, put fourth all your strength, and be not weary; for you can never
   go far enough. Who hath seen him, that he might tell us? and who can
   magnify him as he is? There are yet hid greater things than those be,
   for we have seen but a few of his works."

   I have here only considered the Supreme Being by the light of reason
   and philosophy. If we would see him in all the wonders of his mercy, we
   must have recourse to revelation, which represents him to us, not only
   as infinitely great and glorious, but as infinitely good and just in
   his dispensations towards men. But as this is a theory which falls
   under every one's consideration, though indeed it can never be
   sufficiently considered, I shall here only take notice of that habitual
   worship and veneration which we ought to pay to this Almighty Being. We
   should often refresh our minds with the thought of him and annihilate
   ourselves before him in the contemplation of our own worthlessness, and
   of his transcendent excellency and perfection. This would imprint in
   our minds such a constant and uninterrupted awe and veneration as that
   which I am here recommending, and which is in reality a kind of
   incessant prayer, and reasonable humiliation of the soul before him who
   made it.

   This would effectually kill in us all the little seeds of pride,
   vanity, and self-conceit, which are apt to shoot up in the minds of
   such whose thoughts turn more on those comparative advantages which
   they enjoy over some of their fellow-creatures, than on that infinite
   distance which is placed between them and the supreme model of all
   perfection. It would likewise quicken our desires and endeavours of
   uniting ourselves to him by all the acts of religion and virtue.

   Such an habitual homage to the Supreme Being would, in a particular
   manner, banish from among us that prevailing impiety of using his name
   on the most trivial occasions.

   I find the following passage in an excellent sermon, preached at the
   funeral of a gentleman, who was an honour to his country, and a more
   diligent as well as successful inquirer into the works of nature than
   any other our nation has ever produced. "He had the profoundest
   veneration for the great God of heaven and earth that I have ever
   observed in any person. The very name of God was never mentioned by him
   without a pause, and a visible stop in his discourse; in which, one
   that knew him most particularly above twenty years, has told me, that
   he was so exact, that he does not remember to have observed him once to
   fail in it."

   Every one knows the veneration which was paid by the Jews to a name so
   great, wonderful, and holy. They would not let it enter even in their
   religious discourses. What can we then think of those who make use of
   so tremendous a name in the ordinary expressions of their anger, mirth,
   and most impertinent passions? of those who admit it into the most
   familiar questions and assertions, ludicrous phrases, and works of
   humour? not to mention those who violate it by solemn perjuries. It
   would be an affront to reason to endeavour to set forth the horror and
   profaneness of such a practice. The very mention of it exposes it
   sufficiently to those in whom the light of nature, not to say religion,
   is not utterly extinguished.
     __________________________________________________________________

   --Deum namque ire per omnes
   Terrasque, tractusque maris, calumque profundum.

   Virg. Georg. 4. ver. 221.


   For God:he whole created mass inipires;

   Through heaven, and earth, and ocean's depths he throws

   His influence round, and kindles as he goes.

   Dryden,

   I WAS yesterday, about sun set, walking in the open field, till the
   night insensibly fell upon me. I at first amused myself with all the
   richness and variety of colours which appeared in the western part of
   the heaven: in proportion as they faded away and went out, several
   stars and planets appeared one after another, till the whole firmament
   was in a glow. The blueness of æther was exceedingly heightened and
   enlivened by the season of the year, and by the rays of all those
   luminaries that passed through it. The Galaxy appeared in its most
   beautiful white. To complete the scene, the full moon rose at length in
   that clouded majesty, which Milton takes notice of, and opened to the
   eye a new picture of nature, which was more finely shaded and disposed
   among softer light than that which the sun had before discovered to us.

   As I was surveying the moon walking in her brightness, and taking her
   progress among the constellations, a thought rose in me, which I
   believe very often perplexes and disturbs men of serious and
   contemplative natures. David himself fell into it in that reflection:
   "When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the
   stars which thou hast ordained, what is man, that thou art mindful of
   him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?" In the same manner,
   when I considered that infinite host of stars, or, to speak more
   philosophically, of suns, which were then shining upon me, with those
   innumerable sets of planets or worlds which were moving round their
   respective suns: when I still enlarged the idea, and supposed another
   heaven of suns and worlds rising still above this which we discovered,
   and these still enlightened by a superior firmament of luminaries,
   which are planted at so great a distance, that they may appear to the
   inhabitants of the former as the stars do to us: in short, while I
   pursued this thought, I could not but reflect on that little
   insignificant figure which I myself bore amidst the immensity of God's
   works.

   Were the sun, which enlightens this part of the creation, with all the
   host of the planetary worlds that move about him, utterly extinguished
   and annihilated, they would not be missed more than a grain of sand
   upon the sea-shore. The space they possess is so exceedingly little in
   comparison of the whole, that it would scarce make a blank in the
   creation. The chasm would be imperceptible to any eye that could take
   in the whole compass of nature, and pass from one end of the creation
   to the other; and it is possible there may be such a sense in ourselves
   hereafter, or in creatures which are at present more exalted than
   ourselves. We see many stars, by the help of glasses, which we cannot
   discover with our naked eyes: and the finer our telescopes are, the
   more, still, are our discoveries. Huygenius carries this thought so
   far, that he does not think it impossible there may be stars whose
   light has not yet travelled down to us since their first creation.
   There is no question but the universe has certain bounds set to it: but
   when we consider that it is the work of infinite power, prompted by
   infinite goodness, with an infinite space to exert itself in, how can
   our imagination set any bounds to it?

   To return therefore to my first thought, I could not but look upon
   myself with secret horror, as a being that was not worth the smallest
   regard of one who had so great a work under his care and
   superintendency. I was afraid of being overlooked amidst the immensity
   of nature, and lost among that infinite variety of creatures, which, in
   all probability, swarms through all these immeasurable regions of
   matter.

   In order to recover myself from this mortifying thought, I considered
   it took its rise from those narrow conceptions which we are apt to
   entertain of the divine nature. We ourselves cannot attend to many
   different objects at the same time. If we are careful to inspect some
   things, we must of course neglect others. This imperfection which we
   observe in ourselves is an imperfection that cleaves in some degree to
   creature of the highest capacities, as they are creatures, that is,
   beings of finite and limited natures. The presence of every created
   being is confined to a certain measure of space, and consequently his
   observation is stinted to a certain number of objects. The sphere in
   which we move, and act, and understand, is of a wider circumference to
   one creature than another, according as we rise one above another in
   the scale of existence. But the widest of these our spheres has its
   circumference. When therefore we reflect on the divine nature, we are
   so used and accustomed to this imperfection in ourselves, that we
   cannot forbear, in ascribing it to him in whom there no shadow of
   imperfection. Our reason indeed assures us, that his attributes are
   infinite; but the poorness of our conception is such that it cannot
   forbear setting bounds to every thing it contemplates, till our reason
   comes again to our succour, and throws down all those little prejudices
   which arise in us unawares, and are natural to the mind of man.

   We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy thought of our
   being overlooked by our Maker in the multiplicity of his works, and the
   infinity of those objects among which he seems to be incessantly
   employed, if we consider, in the first place, that he is omnipresent:
   and in the second, that he is omniscient.

   If we consider him in his omnipresence, his being passes through,
   actuates and supports the whole frame of nature. His creation, and
   every part of it, is full of him. There is nothing he has made that is
   either so distant, so little, or so inconsiderable, which he does not
   essentially inhabit. His substance is within the substance of every
   being, whether material or immaterial, and as intimately present to it
   as that being is to itself. It would be an imperfection in him, were he
   able to remove out of one place into another, or to withdraw himself
   from any thing he has created, or from any part of that space which is
   diffused and spread abroad to infinity. In short, to speak of him in
   the language of the old philosopher, he is a Being whose centre is
   every where and his circumference no where.

   In the second place, he is omniscient as well as omnipresent. His
   omniscience indeed necessarily and naturally flows from his
   omnipresence; he cannot but be conscious of every motion that arises in
   the whole material world, which he thus essentially pervades, and of
   every thought that is stirring in the intellectual world, to every part
   of which he is thus intimately united. Several moralists have
   considered the creation as the temple of God, which he has built with
   his own hands, and which is filled with his presence. Others have
   considered infinite space as the receptacle, or rather the habitation
   of the Almighty. But the noblest and most exalted way of considering
   this infinite space, is that of Sir Isaac Newton, who calls it the
   cenforium of the Godhead. Brutes and men have their cenforiola or
   little cenforiums by which they apprehend the presence, and perceive
   the actions of a few objects that lie contiguous to them. Their
   knowledge and observation turns within a very narrow circle. But as God
   Almighty cannot but perceive and know every thing in which he resides,
   infinite space gives room to infinite knowledge, and is as it were an
   organ to omniscience.

   Were the soul separate from the body, and with one glance of thought
   should start beyond the bounds of the creation, should it for millions
   of years continue its progress through infinite space with the same
   activity, it would still find itself within the embrace of its creator,
   and encompassed round with the immensity of the Godhead. While we are
   in the body, he is not less present with us because he is concealed
   from us. "O that I knew where I might find him!" says Job. "Behold, I
   go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive
   him; on the left hand, where he does work, but I cannot behold him; he
   hideth himself on the right hand that I cannot see him." In short,
   reason, as well as revelation, assures us that he cannot be absent from
   us notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us.

   In this consideration of God Almighty's omnipresence and omniscience,
   every uncomfortable thought vanishes. He cannot but regard every thing
   that has being, especially such of his creatures who fear they are not
   regarded by him. He is privy to all their thoughts, and to that anxiety
   of heart in particular, which is apt to trouble them on this occasion:
   for as it is impossible he should overlook any of his creatures, so we
   may be confident that he regards, with an eye of mercy, those who
   endeavour to recommend themselves to his notice, and, in an unfeigned
   humility of heart, think themselves unworthy that he should be mindful
   of them.
     __________________________________________________________________

HIS ATTRIBUTES.

   --Cælum quid querimus ultra? Luc. lib. ix.

   Than heav'n what further can we seek?

   IN your paper of Friday the 9th instant you had occasion to consider
   the ubiquity of the Godhead, and at the same time to shew, that as he
   is present to every thing, he cannot but be attentive to every thing,
   and privy to all the modes and parts of its existence; or, in other
   words, that his omniscience and omnipresence are coexistent, and run
   together through the whole infinitude of space. This consideration
   might furnish us with many incentives to devotion, and motives to
   morality; but as this subject has been handled by several excellent
   writers, I shall consider it in a light wherein I have not seen it
   placed by others.

   First, How disconsolate is the condition of an intellectual being, who
   is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no
   extraordinary benefit or advantage from this his presence!

   Secondly, How deplorable is the condition of an intellectual being, who
   feels no other effects from this his pretence but such as proceed from
   divine wrath and indignation!

   Thirdly, How happy is the condition of that intellectual being, who is
   sensible of his Maker's presence from the secret effects of his mercy
   and loving kindness!

   First, How disconsolate is the condition of an intellectual being who
   is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no
   extraordinary benefit or advantage from this his presence! Every
   particle of matter is actuated by this Almighty Being which passes
   through it. The heavens and the earth, the stars and planets, move and
   gravitate by virtue of this great principle within them. All the dead
   parts of nature are invigourated by the presence of their creator, and
   made capable of exerting their respective qualities. The several
   instincts in the brute creation, do likewise operate and work towards
   the several ends which are agreeable to them by this divine energy. Man
   only, who does not cooperate with this Holy Spirit, and is unattentive
   to his presence, receives none of those advantages from it, which are
   perspective of his nature, and necessary to his well being. The
   divinity is with him, and in him, and every where about him, but of no
   advantage to him. It is the same thing to a man with out religion, as
   if there were no God in the world. It is indeed impossible for an
   infinite Being to remove himself from any of his creatures, but though
   he cannot withdraw his essence from us which would argue an
   imperfection in him, he can withdraw from us all the joys and
   consolations of it. His, presence may perhaps be necessary to support
   us in our existence but he may leave this our existence to itself, with
   regard to its happiness or misery. For, in this sense he may cast us
   away from his presence, and take his Holy Spirit from us. This single
   consideration one would think sufficient to make us open our hearts to
   all those infusions of joy and gladness which are so near at hand, and
   ready to be poured in upon us; especially when we consider, secondly,
   The deplorable condition of an intellectual being who feels no other
   effects from his Maker's presence, but such as proceed from divine
   wrath and indignation!

   We may assure ourselves, that the great Author of nature will not
   always be as one, who is indifferent to any of his creatures. Those who
   will not feel him in his love, will be sure at length to feel him in
   his displeasure. And how dreadful is the condition of that creature,
   who is only sensible of the being of his Creator, by what he suffers
   from him! He is as essentially present in hell as in heaven, but the
   inhabitants of the former place behold him only in his wrath, and
   shrink within the flames to conceal themselves from him. It is not in
   the power of imagination to conceive the fearful effects of omnipotence
   incensed.

   But I shall only consider the wretchedness of an intellectual being,
   who, in this life, lies under the displeasure of him, that, at all
   times, and in all places, is intimately united with him. He is able to
   disquiet the soul, and vex it in all its faculties. He can hinder any
   of the greatest comforts of life from refreshing us, and give an edge
   to every one of its calamities. Who then can bear the thought of being
   an outcast from his presence, that is, from the comforts of it, or
   feeling it only in its terrors? How pathetic is that expostulation of
   Job, when, for the trial of his patience, he was made to look upon
   himself in this deplorable condition! "Why hast thou set me as a mark
   against thee, so that I am become a burden to myself?" But, thirdly,
   how happy is the condition of that intellectual being, who is sensible
   of his Maker's presence from the secret effects of his mercy and
   loving-kindness!

   The blessed in heaven behold him face to face; that is, are as sensible
   of his presence as we are of the presence of any person whom we look
   upon with our eyes. There is doubtless a faculty in spirits by which
   they apprehend one another, as our senses do material objects and there
   is no question but our souls, when they are disembodied or placed in
   glorified bodies, will, by this faculty in whatever part of space they
   reside, be always sensible of the divine presence. We who have this
   veil of flesh standing between us and the world of spirits, must be
   content to know that the spirit of God is present with us, by the
   effects which he produceth in us. Our outward senses are too gross to
   apprehend him; we may however taste and see how gracious he is, by his
   influence upon our minds, by those virtuous thoughts he awakens in us,
   by those secret comforts and refreshments which he conveys into our
   souls, and by these ravishing joys and inward satisfactions, which are
   perpetually springing up, and diffusing themselves among all the
   thoughts of good men. He is lodged in our very essence, and is as a
   soul within the soul, to irradiate its understanding, to rectify its
   will, purify its passions, and enliven all the powers of man. How happy
   therefore is an intellectual being, who, by prayer and meditation, by
   virtue and good works, opens this communication between God and his own
   soul! Though the whole creation frowns upon him, and all nature looks
   black upon him, he has light and support within him, that are able to
   cheer his mind and bear him up in the midst of all those horrors which
   encompass him. He knows that his helper is at hand, and is always
   nearer to him than any thing else can be, which is capable of annoying
   or terrifying him. In the midst of calumny or contempt, he attends to
   that Being who whispers better things within his soul, and whom he
   looks upon as his defender, his glory and the lifter up of his head. In
   his deepest solitude and retirement, he knows that he is in company
   with the greatest of Beings; and perceives within himself such real
   sensations of his presence, as are more delightful than any thing that
   can be met with in the conversation of his creatures. Even in the hour
   of death he considers the pains of his dissolution to be nothing else
   but the breaking down of that partition, which stands betwixt his soul,
   and the light of that Being, who is always present with him, and is
   about to manifest itself to him in fulness of joy.

   If we would be thus happy, and thus sensible of our Maker's presence
   from the secret effects of his mercy and goodness, we must keep such a
   watch over all our thoughts, that, in the language of the scripture,
   his soul may have pleasure in us. We must take care not to grieve his
   Holy Spirit, and endeavour to make the meditations of our hearts always
   acceptable in his sight, that he may delight thus to reside and dwell
   in us. The light of nature could direct Seneca to this doctrine in a
   very remarkable passage among his epistles; Sacer inest in nobis
   spiritus bonorum malorumque custos, et observator, et quem admodum nos
   illum tractamus, ita et ille nos. "There is a holy spirit residing in
   us, who watches and observes both and evil men, and will treat us after
   the same manner that we treat him." But I shall conclude this discourse
   with those more emphatical words in divine revelation, "If a man love
   me; he will keep my words, and my father will love him, and we will
   come unto him, and make our abode with him."

   --Si verbo audaria detur,
   Non metuam magni dixisse palatia cæli.

   Ov. Met. Lib. L Ver. 175.


   This place, the brightest mansion of the sky,

   I'll call the palace of the Deity.

   Dryden.

   SIR,

   I CONSIDERED in my two last letters that awful and tremendous subject,
   the ubiquity or omnipresence of the Divine Being. I have shewn that he
   is equally present in all places throughout the whole extent of infinie
   space. This doctrine is so agreeable to reason, that we meet with it in
   the writings of the enlightened Heathens, as I might show at large,
   were it not already done by other hands. Bat though the Deity be thus
   essentially present through all the immensity of space, there is one
   part of it in which he discovers himself in a most transcendent and
   visable glory. This is that place which is marked out in scripture
   under the different appellations of paradise, the third heaven, the
   throne of God, and the habitation of his glory. It is here where the
   glorified body of our Saviour resides, and where all the celestial
   hierarchies and the innumerable host of angels are represented as
   perpetually surrounding the seat of God with hallelujahs and hymns of
   praise. This is that presence of God which some of the divines call his
   glorious and others his majestic presence. He is indeed as essentially
   present in all other places as in this; but it is here where he resides
   in a sensible magnificence, and in the midst of those splendors which
   can affect the imagination of created beings.

   It is very remarkable that this opinion of God Almighty's presence in
   heaven, whether discovered by the light of nature, or by a general
   tradition from our first parents, prevails among all the nations of the
   world, whatsoever different notions they entertain of the Godhead. If
   you look into Homer, who is the most ancient of the Greek writers, you
   see the supreme power seated in the heavens, and encompassed with
   inferior deities, among whom the muses are represented as singing
   incessantly about his throne. Who does not see here the main strokes
   and out lines of this great truth we are speaking of? The same doctrine
   is shadowed out in many other Heathen authors, though at the same time,
   like several other revealed truths. dashed and adulterated with a
   mixture of fables and human inventions. But, to pass over the notions
   of the Greeks and Romans, those more enlightened parts of the Pagan
   world, we find that there is scarce a people among the late discovered
   nations who are not trained up in an opinion that heaven is the
   habitation of the divinity whom they worship.

   As in Solomon's temple there was the sanctum sanctorum, in which a
   visible glory appeared among the figures of the cherubims, and into
   which none but the High-priest himself was permitted to enter, after
   having made an atonement for the sins of the people; so, if we consider
   the whole creation as one great temple, there is in it this holy of
   holies, into which the High-priest of our salvation entered, and took
   his place among angels and archangels, after having made a propitiation
   for the sins of mankind.

   With how much skill must the throne of God be erected? With what
   glorious designs is that habitation beautified, which is contrived and
   built by him who inspired Hiram with wisdom? How great must be the
   majesty of that place, where the whole art of creation has been
   employed, and where God has: chosen to shew himself in the most
   magnificent manner? What must be the architecture of infinite power
   under the direction of infinite wisdom? A spirit cannot but be
   transported after an ineffable manner with the sight of those objects,
   which were made to affect him, by that Being who knows the inward frame
   of a soul, and how to please and ravish it in all its most secret
   powers and faculties. It is to this majestic presence of God we may
   apply those beautiful expressions in holy writ; "Behold! even to the
   moon, and it shineth not: yea, the stars are not pure in his sight."
   The light of the sun, and all the glories of the world in which we
   live, are but as weak and sickly glimmerings, or rather darkness
   itself, in comparison of those splendors which encompass the throne of
   God.

   As the glory, of this place is transcendant beyond imagination, so,
   probably is the extent of it. There is light behind light, and glory
   within glory. How far that space may reach, in which God thus appears
   in perfect majesty, we cannot possibly conceive. Though it is not
   infinite, it may be indefinite; and though not immeasurable in itself,
   it may be so with regard to any created eye or imagination. If he has
   made these lower regions of matter so inconceivably wide and
   magnificent for the habitation of mortal and perishable beings, how
   great may we suppose the courts of his house to be, where he makes his
   residence in a more especial manner, and displays himself in the
   fulness of his glory, among an innumerable company of angels and
   spirits of just men made perfect.

   This is certain, that our imagination can not be raised too high, when
   we think on a place where omnipotence and omniscience have so signally
   exerted themselves; because that they are able to produce a scene
   infinitely more great and glorious than what we are able to imagine. It
   is not impossible but, at the consummation of all things these outward
   apartments of nature, which are now suited to those beings who inhabit
   them, may be taken in and added to that glorious place of which I am
   here speaking, and by that means made a proper habitation for beings
   who are exempt from mortality, and cleared of their imperfections: for
   so the scripture seems intimate, when it speaks of a new heaven and a
   new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.

   I have only considered this glorious place with regard to the sight and
   imagination, though it is highly probable that our other senses may
   here likewise enjoy their highest gratifications. There is nothing
   which more ravishes and transports the soul than harmony; and we have
   great reason to believe, from the descriptions of this place in holy
   scripture, that this is one of the entertainments of it. And if the
   soul of man can be so wonderfully affected with those strains of music
   which human art is capable of producing, how much more will it be
   raised and elevated by those in which is exerted the whole power of
   harmony. The senses are faculties of the human soul, though they can
   not be employed, during this our vital union, without proper
   instruments in the body.

   Why therefore should we exclude the satisfaction of these faculties,
   which we find by experience are inlets of great pleasure to the soul,
   from among those entertainments which are to make up our happiness
   hereafter. Why should we suppose that our hearing and seeing will not
   be gratified with those objects which are most agreeable to them, and
   which they cannot meet with in these lower regions of nature; objects
   which neither eye have seen, nor ear heared, nor, can it enter into the
   heart of man to conceive? "I knew a man in Christ, (says St. Paul,
   speaking of himself) above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I
   cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell; God knoweth)
   such an one caught up to the third heaven. And I knew such a man,
   (whether in the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth)
   how that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words,
   which it is not possible for a man to utter." By this is meant, that
   what he heard was so infinitely different from any thing which he had
   heard in this world, that it was impossible to express it in such words
   as might convey a notion of it to his hearers.

   It is very natural for us to take delight in inquiries concerning any
   foreign country, where we are some time or other to make our abode and
   as we all hope to be admitted into this glorious place, it is both a
   laudable and useful curiosity to git what information we can of it,
   whilst we make use of revelation for our guide. When these everlasting
   doors shall be opened to us we may be sure that the pleasures and
   beauties of this place will infinitely transcend our present hope and
   expectations; and that the glorious appearance of the throne of God
   will rise infinitely beyond whatever we are able to conceive of it. We
   might here entertain ourselves with many other speculations on this
   subject, from those several hints which we find of it in the holy
   scriptures; as whether there may not be different mansions and
   apartments of glory, to beings of different natures; whether, as they
   excel one another in perfection, they are not admitted nearer to the
   throne of the Almighty, and enjoy greater manifestations of his
   presence; whether there are not solemn times and occasions, when all
   the multitude of heaven celebrate the presence of their Maker in more
   extraordinary forms of praise and adoration; as Adam, though he had
   continued in a state of innocence, would, in the opinion of our
   divines, have kept holy the Sabbath day, in a more particular manner
   than any other of the seven. These, and the like speculations, we may
   very innocently indulge, so long as we make use of them to :inspire us
   with a desire of becoming inhabitants of this delightful place.

   I have in this, and in two foregoing letters, treated on the most
   serious subject that can employ the mind of man, the omnipresence of
   the Deity; a subject which, if possible, should never depart from our
   meditations. We have considered the divine Being as he inhabits
   infinitude, as he dwells among his works, as he is present to the mind
   of man, and as he discovers himself in a more glorious manner among the
   regions of the blessed. Such a consideration should be kept awake in us
   at all times, and in all places, and possess our minds with a perpetual
   awe and reverence. It should be interwoven with all our thoughts and
   perceptions become one with the consciousness of our own being. It is
   not to be reflected on in the coldness of philosophy, but ought to sink
   us into the lowest prostration before him, who is so astonishing great,
   wonderful and holy.


   --Assidus labuntur tempora motu O

   Non secus ac flumen. Neque enim consistere flumen

   Nec levis bora potest: set ut unda impellitur unda,

   Urgeturque prior venienti, urgetque priorem,

   Tempora sic fugiunt pariter, pariterque, sequuntur:

   Et nova sunt semper. Namquod fuit ante, relictum est;

   Fitque quod haud fuerat; momentaque cuncta novantur.

   Ov. Met. Lib. XIII. 179.


   Ev'n times are in perpetual flux, and run

   Like rivers from their fountain, rolling on,

   For time, no more than streams, is at a stay;

   The flying hour is ever on her way;

   And as the fountain still supplies her store,

   The wave behind impels the wave before;

   Thus in successive course the minutes run,

   And urge their predecessor minutes on,

   Still moving, ever new: for former things

   Are set aside, like abdicated kings:

   And every moment alters what was done,

   And innovates some act, till then unknown.

   Dryden.

   WE consider infinite space as an expansion without a circumference; we
   consider eternity, or infinite duration, as a line that has neither a
   beginning nor end. In our speculations of infinite space, we consider
   that particular place in which we exist, as a kind of centre to the
   whole expansion. In our speculations of eternity, we consider the time
   which is present to us as the middle, which divides the whole line into
   two equal parts. For this reason, many witty authors compare the
   present time to an isthmus or narrow neck of land that rises in the st
   of an ocean immeasurably diffused on either side of it.

   Philosophy, and indeed common sense, naturally throws eternity into
   divisions; which we may call, in English, that eternity which is past,
   and that eternity which is to come. The learned terms of æternitas a
   parte ante and aternitas a parte post, may be more amusing to the
   reader, but can have no other idea affixed to them than what is
   conveyed to us by those words, an eternity that is past, and an
   eternity that is to come. Each of these eternities is bounded at the
   one extreme; or, in other words, the former has an end, and the latter
   a beginning.

   Let us first of all consider that eternity which is past, reserving
   that which is to come for the subject of another paper. The nature of
   this eternity is utterly inconceivable by the mind of man; our reason
   demonstrates to us that it has been, but at the same time can frame no
   idea of it but what is big with absurdity and contradiction. We can
   have no other conception of any duration which is past than that all of
   it was once present, and whatever was was once present, is at some
   certain distance from us; and whatever is at any certain distance from
   us, be the distance never so remote, can not be eternity. The very
   notion of any duration being past, implies that it was once present:
   for the idea of being once present is actually included in the idea of
   its being past. This therefore is a depth not to be sounded by human
   understanding. We are sure that there has been an eternity, and yet
   contradict ourselves, when we measure this eternity by any notion which
   we can frame of it.

   If we go to the bottom of this matter, we shall find, that the
   difficulties we meet with in our conceptions of eternity proceed from
   this single reason, that we can have no idea of any other kind of
   duration than that by which we ourselves, and all other created beings,
   do exist; which is a successive duration made up of past, present, and
   to come. There is nothing which exists after this manner; all the parts
   of this existence were once actually present, and consequently may be
   reached by certain numbers of years applied to it. We may ascend as
   high as we please, and employ our being to that eternity which is to
   come, in adding millions of years to millions of years, and we can
   never come up to any fountainhead of duration, to any beginning in
   eternity; but the same time are sure, that whatever was once present
   does lie within the reach of numbers, though perhaps we can never be
   able to put enough of them together for that purpose. We may as well
   say that any thing may be actually present in any part of infinite
   space, which does not lie at a certain distance from us, as that any
   part of infinite duration was once actually present, and does not also
   lie at some determined distance from us. The distance in both cases may
   be immeasurable and indefinite as to our faculties, but our reason
   tells us that it cannot be so in itself. Here therefore is that
   difficulty which human understanding is not capable of surmounting. We
   are sure that something must have existed from eternity, and are at the
   same time unable to conceive, that any thing which exists, according to
   our notion of existence, can have existed from eternity.

   It is hard for a reader, who has not rolled this thought in his own
   mind, to follow in such an abstracted speculation; but I have been the
   longer on it, because I think it is a demonstrative argument of the
   being and eternity of a God: and though there are many other
   demonstrations which lead us to this great truth, I do not think we
   ought to lay aside any proofs in this matter which the light of reason
   has suggested to us, especially when it is such a one as has been urged
   by men famous for their penetration and force of understanding, and
   which appears altogether conclusive to those who will be at the pains
   to examine it.

   Having thus considered that eternity which is past, according to the
   best idea we can frame of it, I shall now draw up those several
   articles on this subject which are dictated to us by the light of
   reason, and which may be looked upon as the creed of a philosopher in
   this great point.

   First, It is certain that no being could have made itself; for if so,
   it must have acted before it was, which is a contradiction.

   Secondly, That therefore some being must have existed from all
   eternity.

   Thirdly, That whatever exists after the manner of created beings, or
   according to any notions which we have of existence, could not have
   existed, from eternity.

   Fourthly, That this eternal being must therefore be the great Author of
   nature, the Ancient of days, who, being at an infinite distance in his
   perfections from all finite and created beings, exists in a quite
   different manner from them, and in a manner of which they can have no
   idea.

   I know that several of the schoolmen, who would not be thought ignorant
   of any thing, have pretended to explain the manner of God's existence,
   by telling us, that he comprehends infinite duration in every moment,
   that eternity is with him a punctum stans, a fixed point; or which is
   as good sense, an infinite instant that nothing with reference to his
   existence is either past or to come: which the ingenious Mr. Cowley
   alludes in his description of heaven:


   Nothing is there to come, and nothing past,

   But an eternal NOW, does always last.

   For my own part, I look upon these propositions as words that have no
   ideas annexed to them and think men had better own their ignorance,
   than advance doctrines by which they mean nothing, and which indeed are
   self contradictory. We cannot be too modest in our disquisitions, when
   we meditate on Him, who is invirioned with so much glory and
   perfection, who is the source of being, the fountain of all that
   existence which we and his whole creation derive from him. Let us
   therefore, with the utmost humility, acknowledge, that as some being
   must necessarily have existed from eternity; so this being does exist
   after an incomprehensible manner, since it is impossible for a being to
   have existed from eternity after our manner or notions of existence.
   Revelation confirms these natural dictates of reason in the accounts
   which it gives us of the divine existence, where it tells us, that he
   that the same yesterday, today, and forever; that he is the Alpha and
   Omega, the beginning and the ending: that a thousand years are with him
   as one day; and one day as a thousand years; by which and the like
   expressions we are taught, that his existence, with relation to time or
   duration, is infinitely differently from the existence of any of his
   creatures, and consequently that it is impossible for us to frame any
   adequate conceptions of it.

   In the first revelation which he makes of his own being, he intitles
   himself, I am that I am; and when Moses desires to know what name he
   shall give him, in his embassy to Pharoah, he bids him say, I AM hath
   sent you. Our great Creator, by this revelation of himself, does in a
   manner exclude every thing else from a real existence, and
   distinguishes himself from his creatures, as the only being which truly
   and really exists. The ancient Platonic notion, which was drawn from
   speculations of eternity, wonderfully agrees with this revelation which
   God, has made of himself. There is nothing, say they, which in reality
   exists, whose existence, as we call it, is pieced up of past, present,
   and to come. Such a fleeting and successive existence is rather a
   shadow of existence, and something which is like it, than existence
   itself. He only properly exists whose existence is entirely present;
   that is, in other words, who exists in the most perfect manner, and in
   such a manner, as we have no idea of.

   I shall conclude this speculation with one useful inference. How can we
   sufficiently prostrate ourselves and fall down before our Maker, when
   we consider that ineffible goodness and wisdom which contrived this
   existence for finite natures? What must be the overflowings of that
   good will, which prompted our Creator to adapt existence to beings in
   whom it is not necessary, especially when we consider that he himself
   was before in the complete possession of existence and of happiness,
   and in the full enjoyment of eternity? What man can think of himself as
   called out, and separated from nothing, of his being made a conscious,
   a reasonable and a happy creature; in short, of being taken in as a
   sharer of existence, and a kind of partner in eternity, without being
   swallowed up in wonder, in praise, and adoration! It is indeed a
   thought too big for the mind of man, and rather to be entertained in
   the secrecy of devotion, and in the silence of the soul, than to be
   expressed by words. The Supreme Being has not given us powers or
   faculties sufficient to extoll and magnify such unutterable goodness.

   It is however some comfort to us, that we shall be always doing what we
   shall be never able to do, and that a work which cannot be finished,
   will however be the work of an eternity.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. II.

THE POWER AND WISDOM OF GOD IN THE CREATION.

   Inde hominum pecudumque genus, vitaque volantum,
   Et que marmoreo sert monstra sub acquore pontus.

   Virg. Æn. VI. v. 728.


   Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain,

   And birds of air and monsters of the main.

   Dryden.

   THOUGH there is a great deal of pleasure in contemplating the material
   world, by which I mean that system of bodies into which nature has so
   curiously wrought the mass of dead matter, with the several relations
   which those bodies bear to one another; there is still, methinks,
   something more wonderful and surprising in contemplations on the world
   of life, by which, I mean all those animals with which every part of
   the universe is furnished. The material world is only the shell of the
   universe; the world of life are its inhabitants.

   If we consider the parts of the material world which lie the nearest to
   us, and are therefore subject to our observations and inquiries, it is
   amazing to consider the infinity of animals with which it is stocked.
   Every part of matter is peopled; every green leaf swarms with
   inhabitants. There is scarce a single humour in the body of a man, or
   of any other animal, in which our glasses do not discover myriads of
   living creatures. The surface of animals is also covered with other
   animals, which are in the same manner the basis of other animals that
   live upon it; nay we find in the most solid bodies, as in marble
   itself, innumerable cells and cavities that are crouded with such
   imperceptible inhabitants, as are too little for the naked eye to
   discover. On the other hand, if we look into the more bulky parts of
   nature, we see the seas, lakes and rivers teeming with numberless kinds
   of living creatures: we find every mountain and marsh, wilderness and
   wood, plentifully stocked with birds and beasts, and every part of
   matter affording proper necessaries and conveniencies for the
   livelihood of multitudes which inhabit it.

   The author of the plurality of worlds draws a very good argument from
   this consideration, for the peopling of every planet as indeed it seems
   very probable from the analogy of reason, that if no part of matter,
   which we are acquainted with, lies waste and useless, those great
   bodies which are at such a distance from us, should not be desart and
   unpeopled, but rather that they should be furnished with beings adapted
   to their respective situations.

   Existence is a blessing to those beings only which are endued with
   perception, and is in a manner thrown away upon dead matter, any
   further than as it is subservient to beings that are conscious of their
   existence. Accordingly we find, from the bodies which lie under our
   observation, that matter is only made as the basis and support of
   animals, and that there is no more of the one, than what is necessary
   for the existence of the other.

   Infinite goodness is of so communicative a nature, that it seems to
   delight in the conferring of existence upon every degree of perceptive
   being. As this is a speculation, which I have often pursued with great
   pleasure to myself, I shall enlarge further upon it, by considering
   that part of the scale of beings which comes within our knowledge.

   There are some living creatures which are raised but just above dead
   matter. To mention only that species of shell-fish, which are formed in
   the fashion of a cone that grows to the surface of several rocks, and
   immediately die upon their being severed from the place where they
   grew. There are many other creatures but one remove from these, which
   have no other sense besides that of feeling and taste. Others have
   still an additional one of hearing; others of smell, and others of
   sight. It is wonderful to observe, by what gradual progress the world
   of life, advances through a prodigious variety of species, before a
   creature is formed that is complete in all its senses; and even among
   these three there is such a different degree of perfection in the sense
   which one animal enjoys beyond what appears in another, that though the
   sense in different animals be distinguished by the same common
   denomination, it seems almost of a different nature. If after this we
   look into the several inward perfections of cunning and sagacity, or
   what we generally call instinct, we find them rising after the same
   manner, imperceptibly one above another, and receiving additional
   improvements according to the species in which they are implated. This
   progress in nature is so very gradual, that the most perfect of an
   inferior species comes very near to the most imperfect of that which is
   immediately above it.

   The exuberant and overflowing goodness of the Supreme Bang, whose
   mercies extend to all his works, is plainly seen, as I have before
   hinted, from his having made so very little matter, at least, what
   falls within our knowledge, that does not swarm with life: Nor is his
   goodness less seen in the diversity, than in the multitude of living
   creatures. Had he only made one species of animals, none of the rest
   would have enjoyed happiness of existence; he has, therefore, specified
   in his creation every degree of life, every capacity of being, The
   whole chasm of nature from a plant to a man is filled up with divers
   kinds of creatures rising one over another, by such a gentle and easy
   ascent, that the little transitions and deviations from one species to
   another, are almost insensible. This intermediate space is so well
   husbanded and managed, that there is scarce a degree of perception
   which does not appear in some one part of the world of life. Is the
   goodness or wisdom of the Divine Being more manifested than in this his
   proceeding?

   There is a consequence besides those I have already mentioned, which
   seems very naturally deducible from the foregoing considerations. If
   the scale of being rises by such a regular progress, so high as men, we
   may by a parity of reason suppose that it still proceeds gradually
   through those beings which are of a superior nature to him: since there
   is an infinitely greater space and room for different degrees of
   perfection, between the Supreme Being and man, than between man, and
   the most despicable insect. This consequence of so great a variety of
   beings which are superior to us from that variety which is inferior to
   us, is made by Mr. Locke, in a passage which I shall here set down,
   after having premised, that notwithstanding there is such infinite room
   between man and his maker, for the creative power to exert itself in,
   it is impossible that it should ever be filled up, since there will be
   still an infinite gap or distance between the higher created being, and
   the power which produced him.

   "That there should be more species of intelligent creatures above us,
   than there are of sensible and material below us, is probable to me
   from hence; that in all the visible corporeal world, we see no chasms,
   or no gaps. All quite down from us, the descent is by easy steps, and a
   continued series of things, that in each remove differ very little one
   from the other. There are fishes that have wings, and are not strangers
   to the airy region: and there are some birds, that are inhabitants of
   the water: whose blood is cold as fishes and their flesh so like in
   taste, that the scrupulous are allowed them on fish days. There are
   animals so near of kin both to birds and beasts, that they are in the
   middle between both: amphibious animals link the terrestrial and
   aquatic together; seals live on land and at sea and porpoises have the
   warm blood and entrails of a hog, not to mention what is confidently
   reported of mermaids or sea-men. There are some brutes, that seem to
   have as much knowledge and reason, as some that are called men; and the
   animal and vegetable kingdoms are so nearly joined, that if you will
   take the lowest of one, and the highest of the other, there will scarce
   be perceived any great difference between them; and so on till we come
   to the lowest and the most inorganical parts of matter, we shall find
   every where that the several species are linked together, and differ
   but in almost insensible degrees. And when we consider the infinite
   power and wisdom of the Maker, we have reason to think that it is
   suitable to the magnificent harmony of the universe, and the great
   design and infinite goodness of the Architect, that the species of
   creatures should also, by gentle degrees, ascend upward from us toward
   his infinite perfection, as we see they gradually descend from us
   downwards; which if it be probable, we have reason then to be
   persuaded, that there are far more species of creatures above us than
   there are beneath us; we being in degrees of perfection much more
   remote from the infinite being of God, than we are from the lowest
   state of being, and that which approaches nearest to nothing. And yet
   of all those distinct species, we have no clear distinct ideas."

   In this system of being, there is no creature so wonderful in its
   nature, and which so much deserves our particular attention, as man,
   who fills up the middle space between, the animal and intellectual
   nature, the visible and invisible world, and is that link in the chain
   of beings, which has beep often termed the nexus utriusque mundi. So
   that he who in one respect is associated with angels and archangels,
   may look upon a being of infinite perfection as his father, and the
   highest order of spirits as his brethren; may in another respect say to
   corruption, thou art my father, and to the worm, thou art my mother and
   my sister.


   --Facies non omnibus una.

   Nec divesa tamen.

   Ovid. Met. Lib. II. V.


   Though various features diff'rent aspects grace,

   A certain likeness is in ev'ry face.

   THOSE who were skilful in anatomy among the ancients, concluded from
   the outward and inward make of an human body, that it was the work of a
   being transcendently wise and powerful. As the world grew more
   enlightened in this art, their discoveries gave them fresh
   opportunities of admiring the conduct of Providence in the formation of
   an human body. Galen was converted by his dissections, and could not
   but own a Supreme Being upon a survey of this his handy-work. There
   were, indeed, many parts of which the old anatomists did not know the
   certain use, but as they saw that most of those which were examined
   were adapted with admirable art to their several functions, they did
   not question but those whose uses they could not determine, were
   contrived with the same wisdom for respective ends and purposes. Since
   the circulation of the blood has been found out, and many other great
   discoveries have been made by our modern anatomists, we see new wonders
   in the human frame, and discern several important uses for those parts,
   which uses the ancients knew nothing of. In short, the body of a man is
   such a subject as stands the utmost test of examination. Though it
   appears formed with the nicest wisdom, upon the most superficial survey
   of it, it still mends upon the search, and produces our surprize and
   amazement in proportion as we pry into it. What I have here said of an
   human body, may be applied to the body of every animal, which has been
   the subject of anatomical observations.

   The body of an animal is an object adequate to our senses. It is a
   particular system of Providence, that lies in a narrow compass. The eye
   is able to command it, and by successive enquiries can search into all
   its parts. Could the body of the whole earth, or indeed the whole
   universe, be thus submitted to the examination of our senses, were it
   not too big and disproportioned for our inquiries, too unwieldy for the
   management of the eye and hand, there is no question but it would
   appear to us as curious and well contrived a frame as that of an human
   body. We should see the same concatenation and subserviency, the same
   necessoty and usefulness, the same beauty and harmony in all and every
   of its parts, as what we discover in the body of every single animal.

   The more extended our reason is, and the more able to grapple with
   immense objects, the greater still are these discoveries which it makes
   of wisdom and providence in the work of the creation. A Sir Isaac
   Newton, who stands up as the miracle of the present age, can look
   through a whole planetary system; consider it its weight, number and
   measure; and draw from it as many demonstrations of infinite power and
   wisdom, as a more confined understanding is able to deduce from the
   system of an human body.

   But to return to our speculations on anatomy. I here consider the
   fabric and texture of the bodies of animals in one particular view;
   which, in my opinion, shews the hand of a thinking and all-wise being
   in their formation, with the evidence of a thousand demonstrations. I
   think we may lay this down as an incontested principle, that chance
   never acts in a perpetual uniformity and consistence with itself. If
   one should always fling the same number with ten thousand dice, or see
   every throw just five times less, or five times more in number than the
   throw which immediately preceeded it, who would not imagine there is
   some invisible power which directs the call? This is the proceeding
   which we find in the operations of nature. Every kind of animal is
   diversified by different magnitudes, each of which gives rise to a
   different species. Let a man trace the dog or lion kind, and he will
   observe how many of the works of nature are published, if I may use the
   expression, in a variety of editions. If we look into the reptile
   world, or into those different kinds of animals that fill the element
   of water, we meet with the same repetitions among several species, that
   differ very little from one another, but in size and bulk. You find the
   same creature that is drawn at large, copied out in several
   proportions, and ending in miniature. It would be tedious to produce
   instances of this regular conduct in Providence, as it would be
   superfluous to those who are versed the natural history of animals. The
   magnificent harmony of the universe is such, that we may observe
   innumerable divisions running upon the same ground. I might also extend
   this speculation to the dead parts of nature, in which we may find
   matter disposed into many similar systems, as well in our survey of
   stars and planets, as of stones, vegetables, and other sublunary parts
   of the creation. In a word, Providence has shewn the richness of its
   goodness and wisdom, not only in the production of many original
   species, but in the multiplicity of decents which it has made on every
   original species in particular.

   But to pursue this thought still further: Every living creature,
   considered in itself, has many very complicated parts, that are exact
   copies of some other parts which it possesses, and which are
   complicated in the same manner. One eye would have been sufficient for
   the subsistence and preservation of an animal but, in order to better
   his condition we see another placed with a mathematical exactness in
   the same most advantageous situation, and in every particular, of the
   same size and texture. Is it possible for chance to be thus delicate
   and uniform in her operations should a million of dice turn up twice
   together the same number, the wonder would be nothing in comparison
   with this. But when we see this similitude and resemblance in the arm,
   the hand, the fingers; when we see one half of the body entirely
   correspond with the other in all those. minute strokes, without which a
   man might have very well subsisted; nay, when we often see a single
   part repeated an hundred times in the same body, notwithstanding it
   consists of the most intricate weaving of numberless fibres, and these
   parts differing still in magnitude, as the convenience of their
   particular situation requires; sure a man must have a strange cast of
   understanding, who does not discover the finger of God in so wonderful
   a work. These duplicates in those parts of the body, without which a
   man might have very well subsisted, though not so well as with them,
   are a plain demonstration of an all wise contriver; as those more
   numerous copyings, which are found among the vessels of the same body,
   are evident demonstrations that they could not be the work of chance.
   This argument receives additional strength, if we apply it to every
   animal and insect within our knowledge, as well as to those numberless
   living creatures that are objects too minute for a human eye; and if we
   consider how the several species in this whole world of life resemble
   one another, in very many particulars, so far as is convenient for
   their respective states of existence; it is much more probable that an
   hundred million of dice should be casually thrown a hundred million of
   times in the same number, than that the body of any single animal
   should be produced by the fortuitous concourse of matter. And that the
   like chance should arise in innumerable instances, requires a degree of
   credulity that is not under the direction of common sense. We may carry
   this consideration yet farther, if we reflect on the two sexes in every
   living species, with their resemblances to each other, and those
   particular distinctions, that were necessary for the keeping up of this
   great world of life.

   There are many more demonstrations of a Supreme Being, and of his
   transcendent wisdom, power, and goodness in the formation of the body
   of a living creature; for which I refer my reader to other writings,
   particularly to the sixth book of the poem, intitled Creation, where
   the anatomy of the human body is described with great perspicuity and
   elegance. I have been particular on the thought which runs through this
   speculation, because I have not seen it enlarged upon by others.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Jupiter est quodcunque vides.

   Lucan. LIb. IX.

   All, all, where'er you look, is full of God.

   I HAD this morning a very valuable and kind present sent me of a
   translated work of a most excellent foreign writer, who makes a very
   considerable figure in the learned and Christian world. It is intitled,
   A demonstration of the existence" wisdom, and omnipotence of God, drawn
   from the knowledge of nature, particularly of man, and fitted to the
   meanest capacity, by the archbishop of Cambray, author of Telemachus
   translated from the French by the same hand that englished that
   excellent piece. This great author, in the writings which he has before
   produced, has manifested an heart full of virtuous sentiments, great
   benevolence to mankind, as well as a sincere and fervent piety towards
   his creator. His talents and parts are a very great good to the world;
   and it is a pleasing thing to behold the polite arts subservient to
   religion, and recommending it from its natural beauty. Looking over the
   letters of my correspondents, I find one which celebrates this
   treatise, and recommends it to my readers,.

   To the GUARDIAN:

   Sir,

   I THINK I have somewhere read, in the writings of one whom I take to be
   a friend of your's, a saying which struck me very much; and, as I
   remember, it was to this purpose; "The existence of a God is so far
   from being a thing that wants to be proved, that I think it the only
   thing of which we are certain." This is a sprightly and just
   expression; however, I dare say you will not be displeased that I put
   you in mind of saying something on the demonstration of the bishop of
   Cambray. A man of his talents views all things in a light different
   from that in which ordinary men see them and the devout disposition of
   his soul turns all those talents to the improvement of the pleasures of
   a good life. His style clothes philosophy in a dress almost poetic, and
   his readers enjoy in full perfection the advantage, while they are
   reading him, of being what he is. The pleasing representation of the
   animal powers in the beginning of his work, and his consideration of
   the nature of man with the addition of reason, in the subsequent
   discourse, impresses upon the mind a strong satisfaction in itself, and
   gratitude towards him who bestowed that superiority over the brute
   world. These thoughts had such an effect upon the author himself, that
   he has ended his discourse with a prayer. This adoration has a
   sublimity in it befitting his character; and the emotions of his heart
   flow from wisdom and knowledge. I thought it, would be proper for a
   Saturday's paper, and have translated it, to make you a present of it.
   I have not, as the translator was obliged to do, confined myself to an
   exact version from the original, but have endeavoured to express the
   spirit of it by taking the liberty to render his thoughts in such a
   way, as I should have uttered them, if they had been mine own. It has
   been observed, that the private letters of great men are the best
   pictures of their souls: but certainly their private devotions would be
   still more instructive, and I know not why they should not be as
   curious and entertaining.

   If you insert this prayer, I know not but I may send you, for another
   occasion, one used by a very great wit of the last age, which has
   allusions to the errors of a very wild life and, I believe you will
   think, is written with an uncommon spirit. The person whom I mean was
   an excellent writer; and the publication of this prayer of his may be
   perhaps some kind of antidote against the infection in his other
   writings. But this supplication of the bishop has in it a more happy
   and untroubled spirit: it is (if that is not saying something too
   fond). the worship of an angel, concerned for those who had fallen, but
   himself still in the state of glory and innocence. The book ends with
   an act of devotion to this effect.

   "O my God! if the greater number of mankind do not discover thee in
   that glorious flow of nature, which thou hast placed before our eyes,
   it is not because thou art far from every one of us; thou art present
   to us more than any object which we touch with our hands; but our
   senses and the passions which they produce is us, turn our attention
   from thee. Thy light shines in the midst of darkness, but the darkness
   comprehends it not. Thou, O Lord, dost every where display thyself:
   thou shinest in all thy works, but art not regarded by heedless and
   unthinking man. The whole creation talks aloud of thee, and echoes with
   the repetitions of thy holy name. But such is our insensibility, that
   we are deaf to the great and universal voice of nature. Thou art every
   where about us, and within us, but we wander from ourselves, become
   strangers to our own souls, and do not apprehend thy presence. O thou;
   who art the eternal fountain of light and beauty, who art the ancient
   of days, without beginning and without end: O thou who art the lite of
   all that truly live; those can never fail to find thee who seek for
   thee within themselves. But, alas! the very gifts which thou bestowest
   upon us do so employ our thoughts: that they hinder us from perceiving
   the hand which conveys them to us. We live by thee, and yet we live
   without thinking on thee: but, O Lord! what is life in the ignorance of
   thee? A dead unactive piece of matter, a flower that withers, a river
   that glides away, a palace that hastens to its ruin. A picture made up
   of fading colours, a mass of shining ore, strike our imaginations, and
   make us sensible of their existence: we regard them as objects capable
   of giving us pleasure, not considering that thou conveyest through them
   all the pleasure which we imagine they give us. Such vain empty
   objects, that are only the shadows of being, are proportioned to our
   low and grovelling thoughts. That beauty which thou hast poured out on
   thy creation is as a veil which hides thee from our eyes. As thou art a
   Being too pure and exalted to pass through our senses, thou art not
   regarded by men who have debased their nature, and have made themselves
   like to the beasts that perish. So infatuated are they, that
   notwithstanding they know what is wisdom and virtue, which have neither
   sound, nor colour, nor smell, nor taste, nor figure, nor any other
   sensible quality, they can doubt of thy existence, because thou art not
   apprehended by the grosser organs of sense. Wretches that we are! we
   consider shadows as realities, and truth as a phantom. That which is
   nothing is all to us, and that which is all appears to us nothing. What
   do we see in all nature, but thee, O my God! thou, and only thou,
   appearest in every thing. When I consider thee, O Lord, I am swallowed
   up and lost in contemplation of thee. Every thing besides thee, even my
   own existence, vanishes and disappears in the contemplation of thee. I
   am lost to myself, and fall into nothing, when I think on thee. The man
   who does not see thee has beheld nothing: he who does not taste thee
   has a relish of nothing. His being is vain, and his life but a dream..
   Set up thyself, O Lord! set up thyself that we may behold thee. As wax
   consumes before the fire, and as the smoke is given away, so let thine
   enemies vanish out of thy presence. How unhappy is that soul, who,
   without the sense of thee, has no God, no hope, no comfort to support
   him! But how happy the man who searches, sighs, and thirsts after thee!
   But he only is fully happy on whom thou liftest up the light of thy
   countenance, whose tears thou hast wiped away, and who enjoys in thy
   loving kindness the completion of all his desires. How long, how long,
   O Lord! shall I wait for that day, when I shall possess, in thy
   presence, fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore? O my God, in this
   pleasing hope my bones rejoice and cry out, who is like unto thee! my
   heart melts away, and my soul faints within me, when I look up to thee,
   who art the God of my life, and my portion to all eternity.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. III.

THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.

   Tisu carentem magna pars veri latet .

   Sen. in Oedip.

   Great part of truth is hidden from the blind.

   IT is very reasonable to believe that part of the pleasure which happy
   minds shall enjoy in a future state will arise from an enlarged
   contemplation of the divine wisdom in the government of the world, and
   a discovery of the secret and amazing steps of Providence, from the
   beginning to the end of time. Nothing seems to be an entertainment more
   adapted to the nature of man, if we consider that curiosity is one of
   the strongest and most lasting appetites implanted in us, and that
   admiration is one of our most pleasing passions; and what a perpetual
   succession of enjoyments will be afforded to both these, in a scene so
   large and various as shall then be laid open to our view in the society
   of superior spirits, who perhaps will join with us in so delightful a
   prospect.

   It is not impossible, on the contrary, that part of the punishment, of
   such as are excluded from bliss, may consist not only in their being
   denied this privilege but in having their appetites at the same time
   vastly increased, with out any satisfaction afforded to them. In these
   the vain pursuit of knowledge shall perhaps add to their infelicity,
   and bewilder them into labyrinths of error, darkness, distraction, and
   uncertainty of every thing but their own evil state. Milton has thus
   represented the fallen angels reasoning together in a kind of respite
   from their torments, and creating to themselves a new disquiet amidst
   their very amusements: he could not properly have described the sports
   of condemned spirits, without that cast of horror and melancholy he had
   so judicioufly mingled with them.


     Others apart sat on a hill retir'ed,

     In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high

     Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate,

     Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute,

     And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.

   In our present condition, which is a middle state, our minds are, as it
   were, chequered with truth and falsehood: and as our faculties are
   narrow, and our views imperfect, it is impossible but our curiosity
   must meet with many repulses. The business of mankind in this life
   being rather to act, than to know, their portion of knowledge is dealt
   to them accordingly.

   From hence it is, that the reason of the inquisitive has so long been
   exercised with difficulties, in accounting for the promiscuous
   distribution of good and evil to the virtuous and the wicked in this
   world. From hence come all those pathetical complaints of so many
   tragical events, which happen to the wise and the good: and of such
   surprising prosperity which is often the reward of the guilty and the
   foolish; that reason is sometimes puzzled, and at a loss what to
   pronounce upon so mysterious a dispensation.

   Plato expresses his abhorrence of some fables of the poets, which seem
   to reflect on the gods as the authors of injustice; and lays it down as
   a principle, that whatever is permitted to befal a just man, whether
   poverty, sickness, or any of those things which seem to be evils, shall
   either in life or death conduce to his good. My reader will observe how
   agreeable this maxim is to what we find delivered by a greater
   authority. Seneca has written a discourse purposely on this subject, in
   which he takes pains, after the doctrine of the Stoics, to shew, that
   adversity is not in itself an evil; and mentions a noble saying of
   Demetrius, "That nothing would be more unhappy than a man who had never
   known affliction." He compares prosperity to the indulgence of a fond
   mother to a child which often proves his ruin; but the affection of the
   Divine Being to that of a wise father, who would have his sons
   exercised with labour, disappointment, and pain, that they might gather
   strength, and improve their fortitude. On this occasion the philosopher
   rises into that celebrated sentiment, that there is not on earth a
   spectacle more worthy the regard of a Creator intent on his works, than
   a brave man superior to his sufferings; to which he adds, that it must
   be a pleasure to Jupiter himself to look down from heaven and see Cato,
   amidst the ruins of his country, preserving his integrity.

   This thought will appear yet more reasonable, if we consider human life
   as a state of probation, and adversity as the post of honour in it,
   assigned often, to the best and most select spirits.

   But what I would chiefly insist on here, is, that we are not at present
   in a proper situation to judge of the counsels by which Providence
   acts, since but little arrives at our knowledge, and even that little
   we discern imperfectly; or, according to the elegant figure in holy
   writ, "we see but in part, and as in a glass darkly." It is to be
   considered, that Providence, in its economy, regards the whole system
   of time and things together, so that we cannot discover the beautiful
   connexions between incidents, which lie widely separated in time, and
   by losing so many links of the chain, our reasonings become broken and
   imperfect. Thus those parts in the moral world which have not an
   absolute, may yet have a relative beauty, in respect of some other
   parts concealed from us, but open to his eye, before whom past,
   present, and to come, are set together in one point of view: and those
   events, the permission of which seems now to accuse his goodness, may,
   in the consummation of things, both magnify his goodness, and exalt his
   wisdom. And this is enough to check our presumption, since it is in
   vain to apply our measures of regularity to matters of which we know
   neither the antecedents nor the consequents, the beginning nor the end.

   I shall relieve my readers from this abstracted thought, by relating
   here a Jewish tradition concerning Moses, which seems to be a kind of
   parable illustrating what I have last mentioned. That great prophet, it
   is said, was called up by a voice from heaven to the top of a mountain;
   where, in a conference with the Supreme Being, he was permitted to
   propose to him some questions concerning his administration of the
   universe. In the midst of this divine colloquy he was commanded to look
   down on the plain below. At the foot of the mountain there issued out a
   clear spring of water, at which a soldier alighted from his horse to
   drink. He was no sooner gone than a little boy came to the same place,
   and finding a purse of gold which the soldier had dropped, took it up,
   and went away with it. Immediately after this came an infirm old man,
   weary with age and travelling, and having quenched his thirst, sat down
   to rest himself by the side of the spring.. The soldier missing his
   purse returns to search for it,. and demands it of the old man, who
   affirms he had not seen it, and appeals to heaven in witness of his
   innocence. The soldier, not believing his protestation, kills him.
   Moses fell on his face with horror and amazement, when the divine voice
   thus prevented his expostulation; "Be not surprised, Moses, nor ask,
   why the judge of the whole earth has suffered this thing to come to
   pass: the child is the occasion that the blood of the old man is spilt;
   but know, that the old man, whom thou sawest, was the murderer of that
   child's father."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Fortune favours still the wise and brave.

   THE famous Gratian, in his little book wherein he lays down maxims for
   a man's advancing himself at court, advises his reader to associate
   himself with the fortunate, and to shun the company of the unfortunate;
   which, notwithstanding the baseness of the precept to an honest mind,
   may have something useful in it for those who push their interest in
   the world. It is certain, a great part of what we call good or ill
   fortune, rises out of right or wrong measures or schemes of life. When
   I hear a man complain of his being unfortunate in all his undertakings,
   I shrewdly suspect him for a weak man in his affairs. In conformity
   with this way of thinking, Cardinal Richlieu used to say, that
   unfortunate and imprudent were but two words for the same thing. As the
   Cardinal himself had a great share both of prudence and good fortune,
   his famous antagonist, the Count D'Olivarez, was disgraced at the court
   of Madrid, because it was alledged against him that he had never any
   success in his undertakings. This, says an eminent author; was
   indirectly accussing him of imprudence.

   Cicero recommended Pompey to the Romans for their general, upon three
   accounts, as he was a man of courage, conduct, and good fortune. It was
   perhaps for the reason above mentioned, namely, that a series of good
   fortune supposes a prudent management in the person to whom it befals,
   that not only Sylla the dictator, but several of the Roman emperors, as
   is fill to be seen upon their medals, among their other titles, give
   themselves that of Felix or Fortunate. The heathens indeed seem to have
   valued a man more for his good fortune than for any other quality,
   which I think is very natural for those who have not a strong belief of
   another world. For how can I conceive a man crowned with many
   distinguishing blessings, that has not some extraordinary fund of merit
   and perfection in him, which lies open to the Supreme eye, though
   perhaps it is not discovered by my observation? What is the reason
   Homer and Virgil's heroes do not form a resolution, or strike a blow,
   without the conduct and direction of some deity?--Doubtless because the
   poets esteemed it the greatest honour to be favoured by the gods, and
   thought the best way of praising a man was to recount those favours
   which naturally implied an extraordinary merit in the person on whom
   they descended.

   Those who believe a future state of rewards and punishments, act very
   absurdly if they form their opinions of a man's merit from his
   successes.

   But certainly if I thought the whole circle of our being was concluded
   between our births and deaths, I should think a man's good fortune the
   measure and standard of his real merit, since Providence would have no
   opportunity of rewarding his virtue and perfections but in the present
   life. A virtuous unbeliever, who lies under the pressure of
   misfortunes, has reason to cry out, as they say Brutus did, a little
   before his death, "O virtue! I have worshipped thee as a substantial
   good, but I find thou art an empty name."

   But to return to our first point, though prudence does undoubtedly in a
   great measure produce our good or ill fortune in the world, it is
   certain that there are many unforeseen accidents and occurrences, which
   very often pervert the finest schemes that can be laid by human wisdom.
   The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.
   Nothing les than infinite wisdom can have an absolute command over
   fortune: the highest degree of it which man can possess is by no means
   equal to fortuitous events, and to such contingencies as may rise in
   the prosecution of our affairs. Nay, it very often happens, that
   prudence, which has always in it a great mixture of caution, hinders a
   man from being so fortunate as he might possibly have been without it.
   A person who only aims at what is likely to succeed, and follows
   closely the dictates of human prudence, never meets with those great
   and unforeseen successes, which are often the effect of a sanguine
   temper, or a more happy rashness; and this perhaps may be the reason,
   that according to the common observation, fortune, like other females,
   delights rather in favouring the young than the old.

   Upon the whole, since man is so sighted a creature, and the accidents
   which may happen to him so various, I cannot but be of Dr. Tillotson's
   opinion in another case, that were there any doubt of a Providence, yet
   it certainly would be very desirable there should be such a being of
   infinite wisdom and goodness, on whose direction we might rely in the
   conduct of human life.

   It is a great presumption to ascribe our successes to our own
   management, and not to esteem ourselves upon any blessing, rather as it
   is the bounty of Heaven than the acquisition of our own prudence. 1 am
   very well pleased with a medal which was struck by Queen Elizabeth, a
   little after the defeat of the invincible Armada, to perpetuate the
   memory of that extraordinary event. It is well known how the king of
   Spain, and others, who were the enemies of that great princes, to
   derogate from her glory, ascribed the ruin of their fleet rather to the
   violence of storms and tempests than to the bravery of the English.
   Queen Elizabeth, instead of looking upon this as a diminution of her
   honour, valued herself upon such a signal favour of Providence: and
   accordingly, in the reverse of the medal above mentioned, has
   represented a fleet beaten by a tempest, and falling foul upon one
   another, with that religious inscription, Afflavit Deus, et
   dissipantur; "He blew with his wind, and they were scattered."

   It is remarked of a famous Grecian General, whose name I cannot at
   present recollect, and who had been a particular favourite of fortune,
   that upon recounting his victories among his friends, he added, at the
   end of several great actions, And in this fortune had no share. After
   which, it is observed in history, he never prospered in any thing he
   undertook.

   As arrogance, and a conceitedness of our own abilities are very
   shocking and offensive to men of sense and virtue; we may be sure they
   are highly displeasing to that Being who delights in an humble mind,
   and by several of his dispensations, seems purposely to show us that
   our own schemes or prudence have no share in our advancements.

   Since on this subject I have already admitted several quotations which
   have occurred to my memory upon writing this paper, I will conclude it
   with a little Persian fable. A drop of water fell out of a cloud into
   the sea, and finding itself lost in such an immensity of fluid matter,
   broke out into the following reflection; "Alas! what an insignificant
   creature am I in this prodigious ocean of waters; my existence is of no
   concern to the universe; I am reduced to a kind of nothing, and am less
   than the least of the works of God." It so happened, that an oyster,
   which lay in the neighbourhood of this drop, chanced to gape and
   swallow it up in the midst of this its humble soliloquy. The drop, says
   the fable, lay a great while hardening in the shell, till by degrees it
   was ripened into a pearl which, falling into the hands of a diver,
   after a long series of adventures, is at present that famous pearl
   which is fixed on the top of the Persian diadem.


     Si fractus illabatur orbis

     Impavidum ferient ruina.

     Hor. Lib. III. Ode 3. l. 7.


   Should the whole frame of nature round him break,

   In ruin and confusion hurl'd,

   He, unconcern'd, would hear the mighty crack,

   And stand secure amidst a falling world.

   Anon.

   MAN, considered in himself, is a very helpless and a very wretched
   being. He is subject every moment to the greatest calamities and
   misfortunes. He is beset with danger on all sides, and may become
   unhappy by numberless casulties, which he could not foresee, nor have
   prevented had he foreseen them.

   It is our comfort, while we are obnoxious to so many accidents, that we
   are under the care of one who directs contingencies, and has in his
   hands, the management of every thing that is capable of annoying or
   offending us; who knows the assistance we stand in need of, and is
   always ready to bestow it on those who ask it of him.

   The natural homage which such a creature bears to so infinitely wise
   and good a Being, is a firm reliance on him for the blessings and
   conveniencies of life: and an habitual trust in him for deliverance out
   of all such dangers and difficulties as may befal us.

   The man who always lives in this disposition of mind, has not the same
   dark and melancholy views of human nature as he who considers himself
   abstractedly from this relation to the Supreme Being. At the same time
   that he reflects upon his own weakness and imperfection, he comforts
   himself with the contemplation of these divine attributes, which are
   employed for his safety and his welfare. He finds his want of foresight
   made up by the omniscience of him who is his support. He is not
   sensible of his own want of strength, when he knows that his helper is
   almighty. In short, the person who has a firm trust on the Supreme
   Being, is powerful in his power, wise by his wisdom, happy by his
   happiness. He reaps the benefit of every divine attribute and loses his
   own insufficiency in the fulness of infinite perfection.

   To make our lives more easy to us, we are commanded to put our trust in
   him, who is thus able to relieve and and succour us; the divine
   goodness having made such a reliance a duty, notwithstanding we should
   have been miserable had it been forbidden us.

   Among several motives which might be made use of to recommend this duty
   to us, I shall only take notice of those that follow.

   The first and strongest is, that we are promised he will not fail those
   who put their trust in him.

   But without considering the supernatural blessing which accompanies
   this duty, we may observe, that it has a natural tendency to its own
   rewards; or, in other words, that this firm trust and confidence in the
   great Disposer of all things, contributes very much to the getting
   clear of any affliction, or to the bearing it manfully. A person who
   believes he has his succour at hand, and that he acts in sight of his
   friend, often exerts himself beyond his abilities, and does wonders
   that are not to be matched by one who is not animated with such a
   confidence of success. I could produce instances from history, of
   generals, who, out of a belief that they were under the protection of
   some invisible assistant, did not only encourage their soldiers to do
   their utmost, but have acted themselves beyond what they would have
   done, had they not been inspired by such a belief. I might, in the same
   manner, shew how such a trust in the assistance of an Almighty Being
   naturally produces patience, hope, cheerfulness, and all other
   dispositions of mind, that alleviate those calamities which we are not
   able to remove.

   The practice of this virtue administers great comfort to the mind of
   man in times of poverty and afflictions, but most of all in the hour of
   death. When the soul is hovering in the last moments of its seperation,
   when it is jut entering on another state of existence, to converse with
   scenes, and objects, and companions, that are altogether new; what can
   support her under such tremblings of thought, such fear, such anxiety,
   such apprehensions but the casting of all her cares upon him who first
   gave her being, who has conducted her through one stage of it, and will
   be always with her to guide and comfort her in her progress through
   eternity?

   David has very beautifully represented this steady reliance on God
   Almighty, in his 23d Pfalm; which is a kind of pastoral hymn, and
   filled with those allusions which are usual in that kind of writing. As
   the poetry is very exquisite, I shall present my reader with the
   following translation of it.


   I. The Lord my pasture shall prepare,

   And feed me with a shepherd's care;

   His presence shall my wants supply,

   And guard me with a watchful eye;

   My noon-day walks he shall attend,

   And all mid-night hours defend.


   II. When in the sultry glebe I faint,

   Or on the thirsty mountain pant,

   To fertile vales, and dewy meads,

   My weary wand'ring steps he leads.

   Where peaceful rivers, soft and. slow,

   Amid the verdant landscape flow.


   III. Though in the paths of death I tread,

   With gloomy horrors overspread,

   My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,

   For thou, O Lord, art with me still;

   Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,

   And guide me through the dreadful shade.


   IV. Though in a bare and rugged way,

   Through devious lonely wilds I stray,

   Thy bounty shall my pains beguile;

   The barren wilderness shall smile,

   With sudden greens and herbage crown'd,

   And streams shall murmer all around.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. IV.

THE WORSHIP OF GOD.

   Religentem esse sportet, religiosum nefas.

   Incerti autoris apuid. Aul. Gell.

   A man should be religious, not superstitious.

   IT is of the last importance to season the passions of a child with
   devotion, which seldom dies in a mind that has received an early
   tincture of it. Though it may seem extinguished for a while by the
   cares of the world, the heats of youth, or the allurements of vice, it
   generally breaks out, and discovers itself again, as soon as
   discretion, consideration, age, or misfortunes, have brought the man to
   himself. The fire may be covered and overlaid, but cannot be entirely
   quenched or smothered.

   A state of temperance, sobriety, and justice, without devotion, is a
   cold, lifeless, insipid condition of virtue; and is rather to be stiled
   philosophy than religion. Devotion opens the mind to great conceptions,
   and fills it with more sublime ideas than any that are to be met with
   in the most exalted science, and at the same time warms and agitates
   the soul more than sensual pleasure.

   It has been observed by some writers, that man is more distinguished
   from the animal world by devotion than by reason, as several brute
   creatures discover their actions something like a faint glimmering of
   reason, though they betray, in no single circumstance of their
   behaviour, any thing that bears the least affinity to devotion. It is
   certain, the propensity of the mind to religious worship, the natural
   tendency of the soul to fly to some superior Being for succour in
   dangers and distresses, the gratitude to an invisible Superintendent,
   which arises in us upon receiving any extraordinary and unexpected good
   fortune, the acts of love and admiration with which the thought of men
   are so wonderfully transported, meditating upon the divine perfections,
   and the universal concurrence of all the nations under heaven in the
   great article of adoration, plainly shew that devotion or, religious
   worship must be the effect of a tradition from some first founder of
   mankind, or that it is conformable to the natural light of reason, or
   that it proceeds from an instinct implanted in the soul itself. For my
   part, I look upon all these to be the concurrent causes; but which ever
   of them shall be assigned as the principle of divine worship, it
   manifestly points to a Supreme Being as the first author of it.

   I may take same other opportunity of considering those particular forms
   and methods of devotion which are taught us by Christianity; but shall
   here observe into what errors even this divine principle may sometimes
   lead us, when it is not moderated by that right reason which was given
   us as the guide of all our actions.

   The two great errors into which a mistaken devotion may betray us are
   enthusiasm and superitition.

   There is not a more melancholy object than a man who has his head
   turned with religious enthusiasm. A person that is crazed, though with
   pride or malice, is a sight very mortifying to human nature; but when
   the distemper arises from any indiscreet fervours of devotion, or too
   intense an application of the mind to its mistaken duties, it deserves
   our compassion in a more particular manner. We may however learn this
   lesson from it, that since devotion itself (which one would be apt to
   think could not be too warm) may disorder the mind, unless its heats
   are tempered with caution and prudence, we should be particularly
   careful to keep our reason as cool as possible, and to guard ourselves
   in all parts of life against the influence of passion, imagination, and
   stitution.

   Devotion, when it does not lie under the check of reason, is very apt
   to degenerate into enthusiasm. When the mind finds herself very much
   inflamed with her devotions, she is too much inclined to think they are
   not of her own kindling, but blown up with something divine within her.
   If she indulges this thought too far, and humours the growing passion,
   she at last flings herself into imaginary raptures and ecstacies; and
   when once she fancies herself under the influence of a divine impulse,
   it is no wonder if she slights human ordinances, and refuses to comply
   with any established form of religion, as thinking herself directed by
   a much superior guide.

   As enthusiasm is a kind of excess in devotion, superstition is the
   excess not only of devotion, but of religion in general according to an
   old Heathen saying, quoted by Aulus Gellius, Religentem esse oportet,
   religiosum nefas; A man should be religious, not superstitious; for, as
   the author tells us, Nigidius observed upon this passage, that the
   Latin words which terminate in ofus, generally imply vicious
   characters, and the having of any quality to an excess.

   An enthusiast in religion is like an obstinate clown, a superstitious
   man like an insipid courtier. Enthusiasm has something in it of
   madness, superstition of folly. Most of the sects that fall short of
   the church of England have in them strong tinctures of enthusiasm, as
   the Roman Catholic Religion is one huge overgrown body of childish and
   idle superstitions.

   The Roman Catholic church seems indeed irrecoverably lost in this
   particular. If an absurd dress or behaviour be introduced in the world,
   it will soon be found out and discarded: on the contrary, a habit or
   ceremony, though never so ridiculous, which has taken sanctuary in the
   church, sticks in it for ever. A Gothic bishop perhaps thought it
   proper to repeat such a form in such particular shoes or slippers:
   another fancied it would be very decent if such a part of public
   devotions were performed with a mitre on his head, and a crosier in his
   hand: to this a brother Vandal, as wise as the others, adds an antic
   dress, which he conceived would allude very very aptly to such and such
   mysteries, till by degrees the whole office has degenerated into an
   empty show.

   Their successors see the vanity and inconvenience of these ceremonies;
   but instead of reforming, perhaps add others which they think more
   significant, and which take possession in the same manner, and are
   never to be driven out after they have been once admitted. I have seen
   the Pope officiate at St. Peter's, where, for two hours together, he
   was busied in putting on or off his different accoutrements, according
   to the different, parts he was to act in them.

   Nothing is so glorious in the eyes of mankind, and ornamental to human
   nature, setting aside the infinite advantages which arise from it, as a
   strong, steady, masculine piety; but enthusiasm and superstition are
   the weaknesses of human reason, that expose us to the scorn and
   derision of infidels, and sink us even below the beasts that perish.

   Idolatry may be looked upon as another error arising from mistaken
   devotion; but because reflections on that subject would be of no use to
   an English reader, I shall not enlarge upon it.

   Omnibus in terris, quae sunt a Godibus usque
   Auroram et Gangem, pauci dignoscere possunt
   Vera bona, atque illis multum diversa, remota
   Erroris nebula --

   Juv. Sat. 10. l. 1.


   Look round the habitable world, how few

   Snow their own good; or, knowing it, pursue!

   Dryden.

   IN my last Saturday's paper I laid down some thoughts upon devotion in
   general, and shall here shew what were the notions of the most refined
   Heathens on this subject, as they are represented in Plato's dialogue
   upon prayer, entitled, Alcibiades the second, which doubtless gave
   occasion to Juvenal's tenth satire, and to the second satire of
   Persius; as the last of these authors has almost transcribed the
   preceding dialogue, entitled, Alcibiades the first, in his fourth
   satire.

   The speakers in this dialogue upon prayer are Socrates and Alcibiades,
   and the substance of it (when drawn together out of the intricacies and
   digressions) as follows:

   Socrates meeting his pupil Alcibiades, as he was going to his
   devotions, and observing his eyes to be fixed upon the earth with great
   seriousness and attention, tells him, that he had reason to be
   thoughtful on that occasion, since it was possible for a man to bring
   down evils upon himself, by his own prayers, and that those things
   which the gods send him in answer to his petitions might turn to his
   destruction this, says he, may not only happen when a man prays for
   what he knows is mischievous in its own nature, as Oedipus implored the
   gods to sow dissension between his sons, but when he prays for what he
   believes would be for his good, and against what he believes would be
   to his detriment. This the philosopher shews must necessarily happen
   among us, since most men are blinded with ignorance, prejudice, or
   passion, which hinder them from feeing such things as are really
   beneficial to them. For an instance, he asks Alcibiades, whether he
   would not be thoroughly pleased and satisfied if that God to whom he
   was going to address himself, should promise to make him the sovereign
   of the whole earth! Alcibadies answers, that he should doubtless look
   upon such a promise as the greatest favour that could be bestowed upon
   him. Socrates then asks him, if after receiving this great favour he
   would be contented to lose his life? or if he would receive it though
   he was sure he should make an ill use of it? To both which questions
   Alcibiades answers in the negative. Socrates then shews him, from the
   examples of others, how these might probably be the effect of such a
   blessing. He then adds, that other reputed pieces of good fortune, as
   that of having a son, or procuring the highest post in a government,
   are subject to the like fatal consequences; which nevertheless, says
   he, men ardently desire, and would not fail to pray for, if they
   thought their prayers might be effectual for the obtaining of them.

   Having established this great point, that all the most apparent
   blessings in this life are obnoxious to such dreadfull consequences,
   and that no man knows what in its events would prove to him a blessing
   or a curse, he teaches Alcibiades after what manner he ought to pray.

   In the first place, he recommends to him, as the model of his
   devotions, a short prayer, which a Greek poet composed for the use of
   his friends, in the following words; "O Jupiter! give us those things
   which are good for us: whether they are such things as we pray for, or
   such things as we do not pray for; and remove from us those things
   which are hurtful, though they are such things as we pray for."

   In the second place, that his disciple may ask such things as are
   expedient for him, he shews him that it is absolutely neccessary to
   apply himself to the study of true wisdom, and to the knowledge of that
   which is his chief good, and the most suitable to the excellency of his
   nature. In the third and last place, he informs him, that the best
   methods he could make use of to draw down blessings upon himself, and
   to render his prayers acceptable, would be to live in a constant
   practice of his duty towards the gods, and towards men. Under this head
   he very much recommends a form of prayer the Lacedemonians made use of,
   in which they petition the gods, "to give them all good things, so long
   as they were virtuous." Under this head likewise he gives a very
   remarkable account of an oracle to the following purpose.

   When the Athenians, in the war with the Lacedemonians received many
   defeats both by sea and land, they sent a message to the Oracle of
   Jupiter Ammon, to ask the reason why they who erected so many temples
   to the gods, and adorned them with such costly offerings; why they who
   had instituted so many festivals, and accompanied them with such pomps
   and ceremonies; in short, why they who had slain so many hecatombs at
   their altars, should be less successful than the Lacedemonians, who
   fell so short of them in all these particulars. To this, says he, the
   oracle made the following reply; "I am better pleased with the prayer
   of the Lacedemonians than with all the oblations of the Greeks." As
   this prayer implied and encouraged virtue in those who made it; the
   philosopher proceeds to shew how the most vicious man might be devout,
   so far as victims could make him, but that his offerings were regarded
   by the gods as bribes, and his petitions as blasphemies. He likewise
   quotes on this occasion two verses out of Homer, in which the poet
   says, that the scent of the Trojan sacrifices was carried up to heaven
   by the winds; but that it was not acceptable to the gods, who were
   displeased with Priam and all his people.

   The conclusion of this dialogue is very remarkable. Socrates having
   deterred Alcibiades from the prayers and sacrifice he was going to
   offer by setting forth the above mentioned difficulties of performing
   that duty as he ought, adds there words, "We must therefore wait till
   such time as we may learn how we ought to behave ourselves towards the
   gods and towards men." But when will that time come, says Alcibiades,
   and who is it will instruct us? For I would fain see this man whoever
   he is. It is one, says Socrates, who takes care of you; but as Homer
   tells us, that Minerva removed the mist from Diomedes' eyes, that he
   might plainly discover both gods and men; so the darkness that hangs
   upon your mind must be removed, before you are able to discern what is
   good and what is evil. Let him remove from my mind, says Alcibiades,
   the darkness, and what else he pleases; I am determined to refuse
   nothing he shall order me, whoever he is, so that I may become the
   better man by it. The remaining part of this dialogue is very obscure:
   there is something in it that would make us think Socrates hinted at
   himself, when he spoke of this Divine Teacher who was to come into the
   world; did he not own, that he himself was in this respect as much at a
   loss, and in as great distress as the rest of mankind.

   Some learned men look upon this conclusion as a prediction of our
   Saviour, or at least that Socrates, like the High Priest, prophecied
   unknowingly, and pointed at that Divine Teacher who was to come into
   the world some ages after him. However that may be, we find that this
   great philosopher saw by the light of reason it, that it was suitable
   to the goodness of the divine Nature, to send a person into the world
   who should instruct mankind in the duties of religion, and, in
   particular, teach them how to pray.

   Whoever reads this abstract of Plato's discourse on prayer, will I
   believe, naturally make this reflection, that the great founder of our
   religion, as well by his own example, as in the form of prayer which he
   taught his disciples, did not only keep up to those rules which the
   light of nature had suggested to this great philosopher, but instructed
   his disciples in the whole extent of this duty, as well as of all
   others. He directed them to the proper object of adoration, and taught
   them according to the third rule above mentioned, to apply themselves
   to him in their closets, without shew and ostentation; and to worship
   him in spirit and in truth. As the Lacedemonians in their form of
   prayer implored the gods in general, to give them all good things so
   long as they were virtuous, we ask in particular "that our offences may
   be forgiven us as we forgive those of others." If we look into the
   second rule which Socrates has prescribed, namely, that we should apply
   ourselves to the knowledge of such things as are best for us, this too
   is explained at large in the doctrines of the gospel, where we are
   taught in several instances to regard those things as curses, which
   appear as blessings in the eye of the world; and on the contrary, to
   esteem those things as blessings, which to the generality of mankind
   appear as curses. Thus, in the form which is prescribed to us, we only
   pray for that happiness which is our chief good, and the great end of
   our existence, when we petition the Supreme Being for "the coming of
   his kingdom," being solicitous for no other temporal blessing but our
   daily sustenance. On the other side, we pray against nothing but sin,
   and against evil in general, leaving it with Omniscience to determine
   what is really such. If we look into the first of Socrates' rules of
   prayer, in which he recommends the abovementioned form of the ancient
   poet, we find that form not only comprehended, but very much improved
   in the petition, wherein we pray to the Supreme Being that "his will
   may be done:" which is of the same force with that form which our
   Saviour used, when he prayed against the most ignominious of deaths;
   "nevertheless not my will but thine be done." This comprehensive
   petition is the most humble, as well as the most prudent, that can be
   offered up from the creature to its Creator, as it supposes the Supreme
   Being wills nothing but what is for our good, and that he knows better
   than ourselves what is so.

   --Nequeo monstrare, et sentio tantum.

   Juv. Sat. 7. I 56.

   'Tis what I only feel, but can't express.

   IF there were no other consequence of it, but barely that human
   creatures on this day assemble themselves before their Creator, without
   regard to their usual employments, their minds at leisure from the
   cares of this life, and their bodies adorned with the best attire they
   can bestow on them; I say, were this mere outward celebration of a
   Sabbath all that is expected from men, even that were a laudable
   distinction, and a purpose worthy the human nature. But when there is
   added to it the sublime pleasure of devotion, our being is exalted
   above itself; and he who spends a seventh day in the contemplation of
   the next life will not easily fall into the corruptions of this in the
   other six. They who never admit thoughts of this kind into their
   imaginations, lose higher and sweeter satisfactions than can be raised
   by any other entertainment. The most illiterate man who is touched with
   devotion, and uses frequent exercises of it, contracts a certain
   greatness of mind, mingled with a noble simplicity, that raises him
   above those of the same condition; and there is an indelible mark of
   goodness in those who sincerely possess it. It is hardly possible it
   should be otherwise; for the fervors of a pious mind will naturally
   contract such an earnestness and attention towards a better being, as
   will make the ordinary passages of life go off with a becoming
   indifference. By this a man in the lowest condition will not appear
   mean, or in the most splendid fortune insolent.

   As to all the intricacies and vicissitudes under which men are
   ordinarily entangled with the utmost sorrow and passion, one who is
   devoted to Heaven when he falls into such difficulties, is led by a
   clue through a labyrinth. As to this world he does not pretend to skill
   in the mazes of it, but fixes his thoughts upon one certainty, that he
   shall soon be out of it. And we may ask very boldly, what can be a more
   sure consolation than to have an hope in death? When men are arrived at
   thinking of their very dissolution with pleasure, how few things are
   there that can be terrible to them? Certainly nothing can be dreadful
   to such spirits, but what would make death terrible to them, falshood
   towards man, or impiety towards Heaven. To such as these, as there are
   certainly many such, the gratifications of innocent pleasures are
   doubled, even with reflections upon their imperfection. The
   disappointments which naturally attend the great promises we make
   ourselves in expected enjoyments, strike no damp upon such men, but
   only quicken their hopes of soon knowing joys, which are too pure to
   admit of allay or satiety.

   It is thought among the politer sort of mankind, an imperfection to
   want a relish of any of those things which refine our lives. This is
   the foundation of the acceptance which eloquence, music and poetry make
   in the world; and I know not why devotion, considered merely as an
   exaltation of our happiness, should not at least be so far regarded as
   to be considered. It is possible the very inquiry would lead men into
   such thoughts and gratifications as they did not expect to meet within
   this place. Many a good acquaintance has been lost from a general
   prepossession in his disfavour, and a severe aspect has often hid under
   it a very agreeable companion.

   There are no distinguishing qualities among men to which there are not
   false pretenders: but though none is more pretended to than that of
   devotion, there are, perhaps, fewer successful impostors in this kind
   than any other. There is something so natively great and good in a
   person that is truly devout, that an aukward man may as well pretend to
   be genteel, as an hypocrite to be pious. The constraint in words and
   actions are equally visible in both cases, and any thing set up in
   their room does but remove the endeavours the farther off their
   pretensions. But however the sense of true piety is elated, there is no
   other motive of action that can carry us through all the vicissitudes
   of life with alacrity and resolution. But piety, like philosophy, when
   it is superficial does but make men appear the worse for it; and a
   principle that is but half received, does but distract, instead of
   guiding our behaviour. When I reflect upon the unequal conduct of
   Lotius, I see many things that run directly counter to his interest;
   therefore I cannot attribute his labours for the public good to
   ambition. When I consider his disregard to his fortune, I cannot esteem
   him covetous. How then can I reconcile his neglect of himself, and his
   zeal for others? I have long suspected him to be a little pious: but no
   man ever hid his vice with greater caution than he does his virtue. It
   was the praise of a great Roman, that he had rather be, than appear,
   good. But such is the weakness of Lotius, that I dare say, he had
   rather be esteemed irreligious than devout. By I know not what
   impatience of railery he is wonderfully fearful of being thought too
   great a believer. A hundred little devices are made use of to hide a
   time of private devotion; and he will allow you any suspicion of his
   being ill employed, so you do not tax him with being well. But alas!
   how mean is such a behaviour? To boast of virtue is a most ridiculous
   way of disappointing the merit of it, but not so pitiful as that of
   being ashamed of it. How unhappy is the wretch who makes the most
   absolute and independent motive of action the cause of perplexity and
   inconstancy? How much another figure does Cælicola make with all who
   know him? His great and superior mind, frequently exalted by the
   raptures of heavenly meditation, is, to all his friends of the same use
   as if an angel were to appear at the decision of their disputes. They
   very well understand he is as much disinterested and unbiassed as such
   a being. He considers all applications made to him, as those addresses
   will affect his own application to Heaven. All his determinations are
   delivered with a beautiful humility; and he pronounces his decisions
   with the air of one who is more frequently a supplicant than a judge.

   Thus humble, and thus great, is the man who is moved by piety, and
   exalted by devotion. But behold this recommended by the masterly hand
   of a great divine who I have heretofore made bold with.

   "It is such a pleasure as can never cloy or overwork the mind; a
   delight that grows and improves under thought and reflexion, and while
   it exercises, does also endear itself to the mind. All pleasures that
   affect the body must needs weary, because they transport; and all
   transportation is a violence; and no violence can be lasting, but
   determines upon the falling of the spirits, which are not able to keep
   up that height of motion that the pleasure of the senses raises them
   to. And therefore how inevitably does an immoderate laughter end in a
   sigh, which is only nature's recovering itself after a force done to
   it; but the religious pleasure of a well-disposed mind moves gently,
   and therefore constantly. It does not effect by rapture and extasy, but
   is like the pleasure of health, greater and stronger than those that
   call up the senses with grosser and more affecting impressions. No
   man's body is as strong as his appetites; but Heaven has corrected the
   boundlessness of his voluptuous desires by stinting his strengths and
   contracting his capacities.--The pleasure of the religious man is an
   easy and a portable pleasure, such an one as he carries about in his
   bosom, without alarming either the eye or the envy of the world. A man
   putting all his pleasures into this one, is like a traveller putting
   all his goods into one jewel; the value is the same, and the
   convenience greater."
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. V.

ADVANTAGES OF REVELATION ABOVE NATURAL REASON.

   --quicquid dignum sapiente bonoque est .

   Hor. Lib. I. Ep. 4. 1. 5.

   --What benefits the wise and good. Creech.

   RELIGION may be considered under two general heads. The first
   comprehends what we are to believe, the other what we are to practise.
   By those things which we are to believe, I mean whatever is revealed to
   us in the holy writings, and which we could not have obtained the
   knowledge of by the light of nature; by the things which we are to
   practise, I mean all those duties to which we are directed by reason or
   natural religion. The first of these I shall distinguish by the name of
   faith, the second by that of morality.

   If we look into the mere serious part of mankind we find many who lay
   so great a stress upon faith, that they neglect morality; and many who
   build so much upon morality, that they do not pay a due regard to
   faith. The perfect man should be defective in neither of these
   particulars, as will be very evident to those who consider the benefits
   which arise from each of them, and which I shall make the subject of
   this day's paper.

   Notwithstanding this general division of Christian duty into morality
   and faith, and that they have both their peculiar excellencies, the
   first has the preeminence in several respects.

   First, Because the greatest part of morality (as I have stated the
   notion of it) is of a fixed eternal nature, and will endure when faith
   shall fail, and be lost in conviction.

   Secondly, Because a person may be qualified to do greater good to
   mankind, and become more beneficial to the world, by morality without
   faith, than by faith without morality.

   Thirdly, Because morality gives a greater perfection to human nature,
   by quieting the mind, moderating the passions, and advancing the
   happiness of every man in his private capacity.

   Fourthly, Because the rule of morality is much more certain than that
   of faith: all the civilized nations in the world agreeing in the great
   points of morality as much as they differ in those of faith.

   Fifthly, Because infidelity is not of so malignant a nature as
   immorality; or, to put the same reason in another light, because it is
   generally owned there may be salvation for a virtuous infidel,
   (particularly in the case of invincible ignorance,) but none for a
   vicious believer.

   Sixthly, because faith seems to draw its principle, if not all its
   excellency, from the influence it has upon morality; as we shall see
   more at large, if we consider wherein consists the excellency of faith,
   or the belief of revealed religion; and this I think is,

   First, In explaining and carrying to greater heights several points of
   morality.

   Secondly, In furnishing new and stronger motives to enforce the
   practice of morality.

   Thirdly, In giving us more amiable ideas of the Supreme Being, more
   endearing notions of one another, and a truer state of ourselves, both
   in regard to the grandeur and vileness of our natures.

   Fourthly, By shewing us the blackness and deformity of vice, which, in
   the Christian system, is so very great, that he who is possessed of all
   perfection, and the sovereign judge of it, is represented by several of
   our divines, as having sin to the same degree that he loves the sacred
   person who was made the propitiation of it.

   Fifthly, In being the ordinary and prescribed method of making morality
   effectual to salvation.

   I have only touched on these several heads, which every one who is
   conversant in discourses of this nature will easily enlarge upon in his
   own thoughts, and draw conclusions from them which may be useful to him
   in the conduct of his life. One, I am sure, is so obvious that he
   cannot miss it, namely, that a man cannot be perfect in his scheme of
   morality who does not strengthen and support it with that of the
   Christian faith.

   Besides this, I shall lay down two or three other maxims, which, I
   think, we may deduce from what has been said.

   First, That we should be particularly cautious of making any thing an
   article of faith which does not contribute to the confirmation or
   improvement of morality.

   Secondly, That no article of faith can be true and authentic which
   weakens or subverts the practical part of religion, or what I have
   hitherto called morality.

   Thirdly, That the greatest friend of morality, or natural religion,
   cannot possibly apprehend any danger from embracing Christianity, as it
   is preserved pure and uncorrupt in the doctrines of our national
   church.

   There is likewise another maxim, which I think may be drawn from the
   foregoing considerations, which is this, that we should in all dubious
   points, consider any ill consequences that may arise from them,
   supposing they should be erroneous, before we give up our assent to
   them.

   For example, in that disputable point of persecuting men for conscience
   sake, besides the embittering their minds with hatred, indignation, and
   all the vehemence of resentment, and ensnaring them to profess what
   they do not believe, we cut them off from the pleasures and advantages
   of society, afflict their bodies, distress their fortunes, hurt their
   reputations, ruin their families, make their lives painful, or put an
   end to them. Sure when I see such dreadful consequences rising from a
   principle, I would be as fully convinced of the truth of it as of a
   mathematical demonstration, before I would venture to act upon it, or
   make it a part of my religion.

   In this case the injury done our neighbour is plain and evident; the
   principle that puts us upon doing it of a dubious and disputable
   nature. Morality seems highly violated by the one; and whether or no a
   zeal for what a man thinks the true system of faith may justify it, is
   very uncertain. I cannot but think, if our religion produce charity, as
   well as zeal, it will not be for shewing itself by such cruel
   instances. But to conclude with the words of an excellent author, "We
   have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us
   love one another."

   The fewer things we want the more we resemble God.

   IT was the common boast of the Heathen philosophers, that by the
   efficacy of their several doctrines they made human nature resemble the
   divine. How much mistaken soever they might be in the several means
   they proposed for this end, it must be owned that the design was great
   and glorious. The finest works of invention and imagination are of very
   little weight when put in the balance with what refines and exalts the
   rational mind. Longinus excuses Homer very handsomely, when he says,
   the poet made his gods like men, that he might make his men appear like
   the gods. But it must be allowed that several of the ancient
   philosophers acted as Cicero wishes Homer had done: they endeavoured
   rather to make men like gods than gods like men.

   According to this general maxim in philosophy, some of them have
   endeavoured to place men in such a state of pleasure, or indolence at
   least, as they vainly imagined the happiness of the Supreme Being to
   consist in. On the other hand, the most virtuous sect of philosophers
   have created a chimerical wise man, whom they made exempt from passion
   and pain, and thought it enough to pronounce him all-sufficient.

   This last character, when divested of the glare of human philosophy
   that surrounds it, signifies no more than that a good and wise man
   should so arm himself with patience as not to yield tamely to the
   violence of passion and pain; that he should learn so to suppress and
   contract his desires as to have few wants; and that he should cherish
   so many virtues in his soul as to have a perpetual force of pleasure in
   himself.

   The Christian religion requires, that after having framed the best idea
   we are able of the divine nature, it should be our next care to conform
   ourselves to it as far as our imperfections will permit. I might
   mention several passages in the sacred writings on this head, to which
   I might add many maxims and wise sayings of moral authors among the
   Greeks and Romans.

   I shall only instance a remarkable passage to this purpose out of
   Julian's Cæsars. The emperor having represented all the Roman emperors,
   with Alexander, the Great, as passing in review before the gods, and
   striving for the superiority, lets them all drop, excepting Alexander,
   Cæsar, Augustus Cæsar, Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, and Constantine. Each
   of these great heroes of antiquity lays in his claim for the upper
   place: and, in order to it, sets forth his actions after the most
   advantageous manner. But the gods, instead of being dazzled with the
   lustre of their actions, enquire, by Mercury, into the proper motive
   and governing principle that influenced them throughout the whole
   series of their lives and exploits. Alexander tells them that his aim
   was to conquer; Julius Cæsar, that his was to gain the highest post in
   his country; Augustus, to govern well; Trajan, that his was the same as
   that of Alexander, namely, to conquer. The question at length was put
   to Marcus Aurelius, who replied with great modesty, that it bad always
   been his care to imitate the gods. This conduct seems to have gained
   him the most votes, and best place in the whole assembly. Marcus
   Aurelius being afterwards asked to explain himself, declares, that by
   imitating the gods, he endeavoured to imitate them in the use of his
   understanding, and of all other faculties; and in particular, that it
   was always his study to have as few wants as possible in himself, and
   to do all the good he could to others.

   Among the many methods by which revealed religion has advanced
   morality, this is one, that it has given us a more just and perfect
   idea of that Being whom every reasonable creature ought to imitate. The
   young man in a Heathen comedy might justify his lewdness by the example
   of Jupiter: as indeed there was scarce any crime that might not be
   countenanced by those notions of the Deity which prevailed among the
   common people in the Heathen world. Revealed religion sets forth a
   proper object for imitation, in that Being who is the pattern, as well
   as the source, of all spiritual perfection.

   While we remain in this life we are subject to innumerable temptations,
   which, if listened to, will make us deviate from reason and goodness,
   the only things wherein we can imitate the Supreme Being. In the next
   life we meet with nothing to excite our inclinations that doth not
   deserve them. I shall therefore dismiss my reader with this maxim, viz.
   "Our happiness in this world proceeds from the suppression of our
   desires, but in the next world from the gratification of them."
     __________________________________________________________________

   --Quis enim virtutem amplectitur ipsam,
   Præmia si tollas?

   Juv. Sat. x. I. 141.


   For who wound virtue, for herself, regard,

   Or wed, without the portion of reward?

   Dryden.

   IT is usual with polemical writers to object ill designs to their
   adversaries. This turns their argument into satire, which, instead of
   shewing an error in the understanding, tends only to expose the morals
   of those they write against. I shall not act after this manner with
   respect to the freethinkers. Virtue, and the happiness of society, are
   the great ends which all men ought to promote, and some of that sect
   would be thought to have at heart above the rest of mankind. But
   supposing those who make that profession to carry on a good design in
   the simplicity of their hearts, and according to their best knowledge,
   yet it is much to be feared those well-meaning souls, while they
   endeavoured to recommend virtue, have in reality been advancing the
   interests of vice, which, as I take to proceed from their ignorance of
   human nature, we may hope, when they become sensible of their mistake,
   they will, in consequence of that beneficent principle they pretend to
   act upon, reform their practice for the future.

   The sages, whom I have in my eye, speak of virtue as the most amiable
   thing in the world; but at the same time that they extol her beauty,
   they take care to lessen her portion. Such innocent creatures are they,
   and so great strangers to the world, that they think this a likely
   method to increase the number of her admirers.

   Virtue has in herself the most engaging charms; and Christianity, as it
   places her in the strongest light, and adorned with all her native
   attractions, so it kindles a new fire in the soul, by adding to them
   the unutterable rewards which attend her votaries in an eternal state.
   Or, if there are men of a saturnine and heavy complexion, who are not
   easily lifted up by hope, there is the prospect of everlasting
   punishment to agitate their souls, and frighten them into the practice
   of virtue, and an aversion from vice.

   Whereas your sober freethinkers tell you that virtue indeed is
   beautiful, and vice deformed; the former deserves your love, and the
   latter your abhorrence: but then it is for their own sake, or on
   account of the good and evil which immediately attend them, and are
   inseparable from their respective natures. As for the immortality of
   the soul, or eternal punishments and rewards, those are openly
   ridiculed, or rendered suspicious by the most sly and laboured
   artifice.

   I will not say these men act treacherously in the cause of virtue: but
   will any one deny that they act foolishly who pretend to advance the
   interests of it by destroying or weakening the strongest motives to it,
   which are accommodated to all capacities, and fitted to work on all
   dispositions, and enforcing those alone which can affect only a
   generous and exalted mind?

   Surely they must be destitute of passion themselves, and unacquainted
   with the force it hath on the minds of others, who can imagine that the
   mere beauty of fortitude, temperance, and justice, is sufficient to
   sustain the mind of man in a severe course of self-denial against all
   the temptations of present profit and sensuality.

   It is my opinion, the free-thinkers should be treated as a set of poor
   ignorant creatures, that have not sense to discover the excellency of
   religion: it being evident those men are no witches; nor likely to be
   guilty of any deep deign, who proclaim aloud to the world that they
   have less motives of honesty than the rest of their fellow subjects;
   who have all the inducements to the exercise of any virtue which a
   free-thinker can possibly have and besides, the expectation of
   never-ending happiness or misery, as the consequence of their choice.

   Are not men actuated by their passions? and are not hope and fear the
   most powerful of our passions? and are there any objects which can
   arouse and awaken our hopes and fears like those prospects that warm
   and penetrate the heart of a Christian, but are not regarded by a
   free-thinker?

   It is not only a clear point, that a Christian breaks through stronger
   engagements whenever he surrenders himself to commit a criminal action,
   and is stung with a sharper remorse after it, than a free-thinker: but
   it should even seem that a man who believes no future state would act a
   foolish part in being thoroughly honest. For what reason is there why
   such a one should postpone his own private interest or pleasure to the
   doing his duty? If a Christian foregoes some present advantage for the
   sake of his conscience, he acts accountably, because it is with the
   view of gaining some greater future good. But he that, having no such
   view, should yet conscientiously deny himself a present good, in any
   incident where he may save appearance, is altogether as stupid as he
   that would trust him at such a juncture.

   It will perhaps be said, that virtue is her own reward; that a natural
   gratification attends good actions, which is alone sufficient to excite
   men to the performance of them. But although there is nothing more
   lovely than virtue, and the practice of it is the surest way to solid
   natural happiness even in this life: yet titles, estates, and
   fantastical pleasures are more ardently sought after by most men than
   the natural gratifications of a reasonable mind; and it cannot be
   denied that virtue and innocence are not always the readiest methods to
   attain that sort of happiness. Besides, the fumes of passion must be
   allayed, and reason must burn brighter than ordinary, to enable men to
   see and relish all the native beauties and delights of a virtuous life.
   And though we should grant our free-thinkers to be a set of refined
   spirits capable only of being enamoured of virtue, yet what would
   become of the bulk of mankind, who have gross understandings, but
   lively senses and strong passions? What a deluge of lust, and fraud,
   and violence, would, in a little time, overflow the whole nation, if
   these wise advocates for morality were universally hearkened to?
   Lastly, opportunities do sometimes offer, in which a man may wickedly
   make his fortune, or indulge a pleasure, without fear of temporal
   damage, either in reputation, health, or fortune. In such cases, what
   restraint do they lie under who have no regards beyond the grave? the
   inward compunctions of a wicked, as well as the joys of an upright
   mind, being grafted on the sense of another state.

   The thought that our existence terminates with this life doth naturally
   check the soul in any generous pursuit, contract her views, and fix
   them on temporary and selfish ends. It dethrones the reason,
   extinguishes all noble and heroic sentiments, and subjects the mind to
   the slavery of every present passion. The wise Heathens of antiquity
   were not ignorant of this; hence they endeavoured, by fables and
   conjectures, and the glimmerings of nature, to possess the minds of men
   with the belief of a future state, which has been since brought to
   light by the gospel, and is now most inconsistently decried by a few
   weak men, who would have us believe that they promote virtue by turning
   religion into ridicule.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Mens agitat molem .--Virg. Æn. vi. I. 727.

   God actuates this universal frame.

   TO one who regards things with a philosophical eye, and hath a soul
   capable of being delighted with the sense that truth and knowledge
   prevail among men, it must be a grateful reflection to think that the
   sublimest truths which among the Heathens, only here and there, one of
   brighter parts, and more leisure than ordinary, could attain to, are
   now grown familiar to the meaner inhabitants of these nations.

   Whence came this surprising change, that regions formerly inhabited by
   ignorant and savage people should now outshine ancient Greece, and the
   other eastern countries, so renowned of old, in the most elevated
   notions of theology and morality? Is it the effect of our own parts and
   industry? Have our common mechanics more refined understanding than the
   ancient philosophers? It is owing to the God of truth, who came down
   from heaven, and condescended to be himself our teacher. It is as we
   are Christians, that we profess more excellent and divine truths than
   the rest of mankind.

   If there be any of the free-thinkers who are not direct Atheists,
   charity would incline one to believe them ignorant of what is here
   advanced. And it is for their information that I write this paper; the
   design of which is to compare the ideas that Christians entertain of
   the being and attributes of a God, with the gross notions of the
   Heathen world. Is it possible for the mind of man to conceive a more
   august idea of the Deity than is set forth in the holy scriptures? I
   shall throw together some passages relating to this subject, which I
   propose only, as philosophical sentiments, to be considered by a
   free-thinker.

   "Though there be that are called gods, yet to us there is but one God.
   He made the heaven, and heaven of heavens, with all their host; the
   earth, and all things that are therein; the seas, and all that is
   therein. He said, let them be, and it was so. He had stretched forth
   the heavens. He hath founded the earth, and hung it upon nothing. He
   hath shut up the sea with doors, and said hitherto shalt thou come, and
   no further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed. The Lord, is an
   invisible spirit, in whom we live, and move, and have our being. He is
   the fountain of life. He preserveth man and beast. He giveth food to
   all flesh. In his hand is the soul of every living thing, and the
   breath of all mankind. The Lord tnaketh poor, and maketh rich. He
   bringeth low, and lifteth up. He killeth, and maketh alive. He
   woundeth, and healeth. By him kings reign, and princes decree justice;
   and not a sparrow falleth to the ground without him. All angels,
   authorities, and powers, are subject to him. He appointeth the moon for
   seasons, and the sun knoweth his going down. He thundereth with his
   voice, and directeth it under the whole heaven, and his lightnings unto
   the end of the earth. Fire and hail, snow and vapour, wind and storm,
   fulfil his word. The Lord is King for ever and ever, and his dominion
   is an everlasting dominion. The earth and the heavens shall perish; but
   thou, O Lord! remainest. They all shall wax old as doth a garment, and
   as a vellum shalt thou fold them up and they shall be changed; but thou
   art the same, and thy years shall have no end. God is perfect in
   knowledge; his understanding is infinite. He is the Father of lights.
   He looketh to the ends of the earth, and seeth under the whole heaven.
   The Lord beholdeth all the children of men from the place of his
   habitation, and considereth all their works. He knoweth our
   down-sitting and up-rising. He compasseth our path, and counteth our
   steps. He is acquainted with all our ways; and when we enter our
   closet, and shut our door, he seeth us. He knoweth the things that come
   into our mind, every one of them: and no thought can be withholden from
   him. The Lord is good to all, and his tender mercies are over all his
   works. He is a Father of the fatherless, and a Judge of the widow. He
   is the God of peace, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort
   and consolation. The Lord is great, and we know him not; his greatness
   is unsearchable. Who but he hath measured the waters in the hollow of
   his hand, and meted out the heavens with a span? Thine, O Lord, is the
   greatness, and the power, and the glory, and the victory, and the
   majesty. Thou art very great, thou art clothed with honour. Heaven is
   thy throne, and the earth is thy footstool."

   Can the mind of a philosopher rise to a more just and magnificent, and
   at the same time, a more amiable idea of the Deity, than is here set
   forth in the strongest images and most emphatical language? and yet
   this is the language of shepherds and fishermen. The illiterate Jews
   and poor persecuted Christians retained these noble sentiments, while
   the polite and powerful nations of the earth were given up to that
   sottish sort of worship of which the following elegant description is
   extracted from one of the inspired writers.

   "Who hath formed a god, or molten an image that is profitable for
   nothing? The smith with the tongs both worketh in the coals, and
   fashioneth it with hammers, and worketh it with the strength of his
   arms; yea he is hungry and his strength faileth. He drinketh no water
   and is faint. A man planteth an ash, and the rain cloth nourish it. He
   burneth part thereof in the fire. He roasteth roast. He warmeth
   himself. And the residue thereof he maketh a god. He falleth down unto
   it, and worshippeth it, and prayeth unto it, and faith, Deliver me; for
   thou art my god. None considereth in his heart, I have burned part of
   it in the fire, yea also, I have baked bread upon the coals thereof: I
   have roasted flesh and eaten it: and than I make the residue thereof an
   abomination? shall I fall down to the stock of a tree?"

   In such circumstances as these, for a man to declare for free-thinking,
   and disengage himself from the yoke of idolatry, were doing honour to
   human nature, and a work well becoming the great asserters of reason.
   But in a church, where our adoration is directed to the Supreme Being,
   and (to say the least) where is nothing either in the object or manner
   of worship that contradicts the light of nature, there, under the
   pretence of free-thinking, to rail at the religious institutions of
   their country, sheweth an undistinguishing genius that mistakes
   opposition for freedom of thought. And, indeed, notwithstanding the
   pretences of some few among our free-thinkers, I can hardly think there
   are men so and inconsistent with themselves as to have a serious regard
   for natural religion, and at the same time use their utmost endeavours
   to destroy the credit of those sacred writings, which as they have been
   the means of bringing these parts of the world to the knowledge of
   natural religion, so in case they lose their authority over the minds
   of men, we should of course sink into the same idolatry which we see
   practised by other unenlightened nations.

   If a person, who exerts himself in the modern way of free-thinking, be
   not a stupid idolater, it is undeniable, that he contributes all he can
   to the making other men so, either by ignorance or design; which lays
   him under the dilemma, I will not say of being a fool or knave, but of
   incurring the contempt or detestation of mankind.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. VI.

EXCELLENCY OF THE CHRISTIAN INSTITUTION.

   --Aptissima quæque dabunt dii
   Charior est illis homo, quam sibi--Juv. S. 10 I. 345.


   --The gods will grant

   What their unerring wisdom sees thee want:

   In goodness, as in greatness they excel;

   Ah that we lov'd ourselves but half so well!

   Dryden.

   IT is owing to pride, and a secret affectation of a certain
   self-existence, that the noblest motive for action that ever was
   proposed to man, is not acknowledged the glory and happiness of their
   being. The heart is treacherous to itself, and we do not let our
   reflections go deep enough to receive religion as the most honourable
   incentive to good and worthy actions. It is our natural weakness, to
   flatter ourselves into a belief, that if we search into our inmost
   thoughts, we find ourselves wholly disinterested, and divested of any
   views arising from self-love and vain glory. But however spirits of
   superficial greatness may disdain at first sight to do any thing, but
   from a noble impulse in themselves, without any future regards in this
   or another being: upon stricter inquiry they will find to act worthily
   and expect to be rewarded only in another world, is as heroic a pitch
   of virtue as human nature can arrive at. if the tenor of our actions
   have any other motive, than the desire to be pleasing in the eye of the
   Deity, it will necessarily follow that we must be more than men, if we
   are not too much exalted in prosperity, and depressed in adversity; but
   the Christian world has a leader, the contemplation of whose life and
   sufferings must administer comfort in affliction, while the sense of
   his power and omnipotence must give them humiliation in prosperity.

   It is owing to the forbidden and unlovely constraint with which men of
   low conceptions act when they think they conform themselves to
   religion, as well as to the more odious conduct of hypocrites, that the
   word Christian does not carry with it, at first view, all that is
   great, worthy, friendly, generous, and heroic. The man who suspends his
   hopes of the reward of worthy actions till after death, who can bestow
   unseen, who can overlook hatred, do good to his slanderer, who can
   never be angry at his friend, never revengeful to his enemy, is
   certainly formed for the benefit of society; yet these are so far from
   heroic virtues, that they are but the ordinary duties of a Christian.

   When a man with a steady faith, looks back on the great catastrophe of
   this day, with what bleeding emotions of heart must he contemplate the
   life and sufferings of his Deliverer? When his agonies occur to him,
   how will he weep to reflect that he has often forgot them for the
   glance of a wanton, for the applause of a vain world, for an heap of
   fleeting past pleasures, which are at present aching sorrows!

   How pleasing is the contemplation of the lowly steps our Almighty
   Leader took in conducting us to his heavenly mansions! In plain and apt
   parable, similitude, and allegory, our great Master enforced the
   doctrine of our salvation; but they of his acquaintance, instead of
   receiving what they could not oppose, were offended at the presumption
   of being wiser than they: they could not raise their little ideas above
   the consideration of him, in those circumstances familiar to them, or
   conceive that he who appeared not more terrible or pompous, should have
   any thing more exalted than themselves; he in that place therefore
   would not longer ineffectually exert a power which was incapable of
   conquering the prepossession a their narrow and mean conceptions.

   Multitudes followed him, and brought him the dumb, the blind, the sick,
   and maimed; whom when their Creator had touched, with a second life
   they saw, spoke, leaped, and ran. In affection to him, and admiration
   of his actions, the crowd could not leave him, but waited near him till
   they were almost as faint and helpless as others they brought for
   succour. He had compassion on them, and by a miracle supplied their
   necessities. Oh! the ecstatic entertainment, when they could behold
   their food immediately increase to the distributer's hand, and see
   their God in person feeding and refreshing his creatures! Oh envied
   happiness! But why do I say envied? as if our God did not still preside
   over our temperate meals, chearful hours, and innocent conversations.

   But though the sacred story is every where full of miracles not
   inferior to this, and though in the midst of those acts of divinity he
   never gave the least hint of a design to become a secular Prince, yet
   had not hitherto the apostles themselves any other hopes than of
   worldly power, preferment, riches and pomp; for Peter, upon an accident
   of ambition among the apostles, hearing his Master explain that his
   kingdom was not of this world, was so scandalized, that he, whom he had
   so long followed, should suffer the ignominy, shame, and death which he
   foretold, that he took him aside, and said, "Be it far from thee, Lord!
   this shall not be unto thee:" for which he suffered a severe
   reprehension from his Master, as having in his view the glory of man
   rather than that of God.

   The great change of things began to draw near, when the Lord of nature
   thought fit as a Saviour and Deliverer to make his public entry into
   Jerusalem with more than the power of joy, but none of the ostentation
   and pomp of a triumph; he came humble, meek, and lowly; with an unfelt
   new extasy, multitudes strewed his way with garments and olive
   branches, crying with loud gladness and acclamation, "Hosannah to the
   son of David, blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord!" At
   this great King's accession to his throne, men were not ennobled, but
   saved; crimes were not remitted, but sins forgiven; he did not bestow
   medals, honours, favours, but health, joy, sight, speech. The first
   object the blind ever saw, was the author of sight; while the lame ran
   before, and the dumb repeated the Hosannah. Thus attended, he entered
   into his own house, the sacred temple, and, by his divine authority,
   expelled traders and worldlings that profaned it; and thus did he, for
   a time, use a great and despotic power, to let unbelievers understand,
   that it was not want of, but superiority to, all worldly dominion, that
   made him not exert it. But is this then the Saviour? is this the
   Deliverer? shall this obscure Nazarene command Israel, and sit on the
   throne of David? Their proud and disdainful hearts, which were
   petrified with the love and pride of this world, were impregnable to
   the reception of so mean a benefactor, and were now enough exasperated
   with benefits to conspire his death. Our Lord was sensible of their
   design, and prepared his disciples for it, by recounting to them now
   more distinctly what should befal him; but Peter, with an ungrounded
   resolution, and in a flush of temper, made a sanguine protestation,
   that though all men were offended in him, yet would not he be offended.
   It was a great article of our Saviour's business in the world, to bring
   us to a sense of our inability, without God's assistance, to do any
   thing great or good; he therefore told Peter, who thought so well of
   his courage and fidelity, that they would both fail him, and even he
   should deny him thrice that very night.

   "But what heart can conceive, what tongue utter the sequel? Who is that
   yonder, buffeted, mocked and spurned? Whom do they drag like a felon?
   Whither do they carry my Lord, my King, my Saviour, and my God? And
   will he die to expiate those very injuries? See where they have nailed
   the Lord and giver of life! how his wounds blacken, his body writhes,
   and heart heaves with pity and with agony! Oh Almighty Sufferer! look
   down, look down from thy triumphant infamy: lo, he inclines his head to
   his sacred bosom! hark, he groans! see, he expires! The earth trembles,
   the temple rends, the rocks burst, the dead arise: which are the quick?
   which are the dead! Sure nature, all nature is departing with her
   Creator."
     __________________________________________________________________

   IF to inform the understanding and regulate the will, is the most
   lasting and diffusive benefit, there will not be found so useful and
   excellent an institution as that of the Christian priesthood which is
   now become the scorn of fools. That a numerous order of men should be
   consecrated to the study of the most sublime and beneficial truths,
   with a design to propagate them by their discourses and writings, to
   inform their fellow-creatures of the being and attributes of the Deity,
   to possess their minds with the sense of a future state, and not only
   to explain the nature of every virtue and moral duty, but likewise to
   persuade mankind to the practice of them by the most powerful and
   engaging motives, is a thing so excellent and necessary to the well
   being of the world, that no body but a modern free-thinker could have
   the forehead or folly to turn it into ridicule.

   The light in which these points should be exposed to the view of one
   who is prejudiced against the names, religion, church, priest, and the
   like, is, to consider the clergy as so many philosophers, the churches
   as schools, and their sermons as lectures, for the information and
   improvement of the audience. How would the heart of Socrates or Tully
   have rejoiced, had they lived in a nation, where the law had made
   provision for philosophers to read lectures of morality and theology
   every seventh day, in several thousands of schools erected at the
   public charge throughout the whole country, at which lectures all ranks
   and sexes, without distinction, were obliged to be present for their
   general improvement? And what wicked wretches would they think those
   men, who should endeavour to defeat the purpose of so divine an
   institution?

   It is indeed usual with that low tribe of writers, to pretend their
   design is only to reform the church, and expose the vices and not the
   order of the clergy. The author of a pamphlet printed the other day,
   (which, without my mentioning the title, will on this occasion occur to
   the thoughts of those who have read it) hopes to insinuate by that
   artifice what he is afraid or ashamed openly to maintain. But there are
   two points which clearly shew what it is he aims at. The first is, that
   he constantly uses the word priest in such a manner, as that his reader
   cannot but observe he means to throw an odium on the clergy of the
   church of England, from their being called by a name which they enjoy
   in common with Heathens and Imposters. The other is, his raking
   together and exaggerating with great spleen and industry, all those
   actions of churchmen, which either by their own illness, or the bad
   light in which he places them, tend to give men an ill impression of
   the dispensers of the Gospel: all which he pathetically addresses to
   the consideration of his wise and honest countryman of the laity. The
   sophistry and ill-breeding of these proceedings are so obvious to men
   who have any pretence to that character, that I need say no more either
   of them or their author.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. VII.

DIGNITY OF THE SCRIPTURE LANGUAGE.


   With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends;

   The Peans lengthen'd till the sun descends:

   The Greeks restor'd the grateful notes prolong;

   Apollo listens, and approves the song.

   Pope.

   THERE is a certain coldness and indifference in the phrases of our
   European languages, when they are compared with the Oriental forms of
   speech: and it happens very luckily, that the Hebrew idioms run into
   the English tongue with a particular grace and beauty. Our language has
   received innumerable elegancies and improvements, from that infusion of
   Hebraisms, which are derived to it out of the poetical pates in holy
   writ. They give a force and energy to our expressions, warm and animate
   our language, and convey our thoughts in more ardent and intense
   phrases, than any that are to be met with in our own tongue.

   There is something so pathetic in this kind of diction, that it often
   sets the mind in a flame, and makes our hearts burn within us. How cold
   and dead does a prayer appear, that is composed in the most elegant and
   polite forms of speech, which are natural to our tongue, when it is not
   heightened by that solemnity of phrase, which may be drawn from the
   sacred writings. It has been said by some of the ancients, that if the
   gods were to talk with men, they would certainly speak in Plato's
   style; but I think we may say with justice, that when mortals converse
   with their Creator, they cannot do it in so proper a style as in that
   of the holy Scriptures.

   If any one would judge of the beauties of poetry that are to be met
   with in the divine writings, and examine how kindly the Hebrew manners
   of speech mix and incorporate with the English language; after having
   perused the book of Psalms, let him read a literal translation of
   Horace or Pindar. He will find in these two last such an absurdity and
   confusion of style, with such a comparative poverty of imagination as
   will make him very sensible of what I have been here advancing.

   Since we have therefore such a treasury of words, so beautiful in
   themselves, and so proper for the airs of music, I cannot but wonder
   that persons of distinction should give so little attention and
   encouragement to that kind of music which would have its foundation in
   reason, and which would improve our virtue in proportion as it raised
   our delight. The passions that are excited by ordinary composition
   generally flow from such silly and absurd occasions, that a man is
   ashamed to reflect upon them seriously; but the fear, the love, the
   sorrow, the indignation that are awakened in the mind by hymns and
   anthems, Make the heart better and proceed from such causes as are
   altogether reasonable and praiseworthy. Pleasure and duty go hand in
   hand, and the greater our satisfaction is, the greater is our religion.

   Music among those who were styled the chosen people, was a religious
   art. The songs of Zion, which, we have reason to believe, were in high
   repute among the courts of the eastern monarchs, were nothing else but
   psalms and pieces of poetry that adored or celebrated the Supreme
   Being. The greatest conqueror in this holy nation, after the manner of
   the old Grecian lyrics, did not only compose the words of his divine
   odes but generally let them to music himself: after which, his works,
   though they were consecrated to the tabernacle, became the national
   entertainment, as well as the devotion of his people.

   The first original of the drama was a religious worship consisting only
   of a chorus, which was nothing else but an hymn to a deity. As luxury
   and voluptuousness prevailed over innocence and religion, this form of
   worship degenerated into tragedies: in which however the chorus so far
   remembered its first office, as to brand every thing that was vicious,
   and recommend every thing that was laudable; to intercede with heaven
   for the innocent, and to implore its vengeance on the criminal.

   Homer and Hesiod intimate to us how this art should be applied, when
   they represent the muses as surrounding Jupiter, and warbling their
   hymns about his throne: I might shew from innumerable passages in
   ancient writers, not only that vocal and instrumental music were made
   use of in their religious worship; but that their most favourite
   diversions were filled with songs and hymns to their respective
   deities. Had we frequent entertainments of this nature among us, they
   would not a little purify and exalt our passions, give our thoughts a
   proper turn, and cherish those divine impulses in the soul, which every
   one feels that has not stifled them by sensual and immoderate
   pleasures.

   Music, when thus applied, raises noble hints in the mind of the hearer,
   and fills it with great conceptions. It strengthens devotion, and
   advances praise into rapture. It lengthens out every act of worship,
   and produces more lasting and permanent impressions in the mind, than
   those which accompany any transient form of words that are uttered in
   the ordinary method of religious worship.
     __________________________________________________________________

   --Fungar inani
   Munere--

   Virg. Æn. vi. I 885.

   An unavailing duty I discharge.

   DR. TILLOTSON, in his discourse concerning the danger of all known sin,
   both from the light of nature and revelation, after having given us the
   description of the last day out of holy writ, has this remarkable
   passage.

   "I appeal to any man, whither this be not a representation of things
   very proper and suitable to that great day, wherein he who made the
   world shall come to judge it; and whether the wit of man devised any
   thing so awful, and so agreeable to the majesty of God, and the solemn
   judgment of the whole world. The description which Virgil makes of the
   Elysian fields and the infernal regions, how infinitely do they fall
   short of the majesty of the holy scripture, and the description there
   made of heaven and hell, and of the great and terrible day of the Lord!
   so that in comparison they are childish and trifling; and yet perhaps
   he had the most regular and most governed imagination of any man that
   ever lived, and observed the greatest decorum in his characters and
   descriptions. But who can declare the great things of God but he to
   whom God shall reveal them."

   This observation was worthy a most polite man, and ought to be of
   authority with all who are such, so far as to examine whether he spoke
   that as a man of a just taste and judgment, or advanced it merely for
   the service of his doctrine as a clergyman.

   I am very confident, whoever reads the gospels with an heart as much
   prepared in favour of them as when he sits down to Virgil or Homer,
   will find no passage there which is not told with more natural force
   than any episode in either of those wits, who were the chief of mere
   mankind.

   The lad thing I read was the 24th chapter of St. Luke, which gives an
   account of the manner in which our blessed Saviour, after his
   resurrection, joined with two disciples, on the way to Emmaus, as an
   ordinary traveller, and took the privilege as such to enquire of them
   what occasioned a sadness he observed in their countenances, or whether
   it was from any public cause: their wonder that any man so near
   Jerusalem should be a stranger to what had passed there; their
   acknowledgment to one they meet accidentally that they had believed in
   this prophet; and that now, the third day after his death, they were in
   doubt as to their pleasing hope which occasioned the heaviness he took
   notice of, are all represented in a style which men of letters call the
   great and noble simplicity. The attention of the disciples, when he
   expounded the scriptures concerning himself, his offering to take his
   leave of them, their fondness of his stay, and the manifestation of the
   great guest whom they had entertained while he was yet at meat with
   them, are all incidents which wonderfully please the imagination of a
   Christian reader, and give to him something of that touch of mind which
   the brethren felt, when they said one to another, "Did not our hearts
   burn within us while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened
   to us the scriptures?"

   I am very far from pretending to treat these matters as they deserve;
   but I hope those gentlemen who are qualified for it, and called to it,
   will forgive me, and consider that I speak as a mere secular man,
   impartially considering the effect which the sacred writings will have
   upon the soul of an intelligent reader; and it is some argument, that a
   thing is the immediate work of God when it so infinitely transcends all
   the labour of man. When I look upon Raphael's picture of our Saviour
   appearing to his disciples after his resurrection, I cannot but think
   the just disposition of that piece has in it the force of many volumes
   on the subject: the evangelists are easily distinguished from the rest
   by a passionate zeal and love which the painter has thrown in their
   faces; the huddled group of those who stand most distant are admirable
   representations of men abashed with their late unbelief and hardness of
   heart. And such endeavours as this of Raphael, and of all men not
   called to the altar, are collateral helps not to be despised by the
   ministers of the gospel.

   It is with this view that I presume upon subjects of this kind; and men
   may take up this paper, and be catched by an admoni tion under the
   disguise of a diversion.

   All the arts and sciences ought to be employed in one confederacy
   against the prevailing torrent of vice and impiety; and it will be no
   small step in the progress of religion, if it is as evident as it ought
   to be, that he wants the best taste and best sense a man can have who
   is cold to the beauty of holiness.

   As for my part, when I have happened to attend the corpse of a friend
   to his interment, and have seen a graceful man at the entrance of a
   church-yard, who became the dignity of his function, and assumed an
   authority which is natural to truth, pronounce, "I am the resurrection
   and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall
   he live; and whosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die:" I
   say, upon such an occasion, the retrospect upon past actions between
   the deceased, whom I followed, and myself, together with the many
   little circumstances that strike upon the soul, and alternately give
   grief and consolation, have vanished like a dream; and I have been
   relieved as by a voice from heaven, when the solemnity has proceeded,
   and after a long pause, I have heard the servant of God utter, "I know
   that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the later day upon
   the earth; and though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I
   see God: whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not
   another." How have I been raised above this world, and all its regards,
   and how well prepared to receive the next sentence which the holy man
   has spoken; "we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we
   can carry nothing out; the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away:
   blessed be the name of the Lord!"

   There are, I know, men of heavy temper, without genius, who can read
   these expressions of scripture with as much indifference as they do the
   rest of these loose papers: however, I will not despair to bring men of
   wit into a love and admiration of sacred writings; and, as old as I am,
   I promised myself to see the day when I shall be as much the fashion
   among men of politeness to admire a rapture of St. Paul, as any fine
   expression of Virgil or Horace, and to see a well-dressed young man
   produce an evangelist out of his pocket, and be no more out of
   countenance than if it were a classic printed by Elzevir.

   It is a gratitude that ought to be paid to Providence by men of
   distinguished faculties, to praise and adore the Author of their being
   with a suitable to those faculties, and rouse slower men, by their
   words, actions and writings, to a participation of their transports and
   thanksgivings.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. VIII.

AGAINST ATHEISM AND INFIDELITY.

   --Procul O! Procul este profani!

   Virg. Æn. vi. I. 258.

   Hence! far hence, O ye profane!

   THE watchman, who does me particular honours, as being the chief man in
   the lane, gave so very great a thump at my door last night that I
   awakened at the knock, and heard myself complimented with the usual
   salutation of Good-morrow, Mr. Bickerstaff, Good-morrow, my masters
   all. The silence and darkness of the night disposed me to be more than
   ordinarily serious; and as my attention was not drawn out among
   exterior objects by the avocations of sense, my thoughts naturally fell
   upon myself. I was considering, amidst the stillness of the night, what
   was the proper employment of a thinking being; what were the
   perfections it should propose to itself; and what the end it should aim
   at. My mind is of such a particular cast, that the falling of a shower
   of rain, or the whistling of wind, at such a time, is apt to fill my
   thoughts with something awful and solemn. I was in this disposition,
   when our bellman began his midnight homily (which he has been repeating
   to us every winter night for these twenty years) with the usual
   exordium,

   Oh! mortal man, thou that art born in sin!

   Sentiments of this nature, which are in themselves just and reasonable,
   however debased by the circumstances that accompany them, do not fail
   to produce their natural effect in a mind that is not perverted and
   depraved by wrong notions of gallantry, politeness, and ridicule. The
   temper which I now found myself in, as well as the time of the year,
   put me in mind of those lines in Shakespeare, wherein, according to his
   agreeable wildness of imagination, he has wrought a country tradition
   into a beautiful piece of poetry. In the tragedy of Hamlet, where the
   ghost vanishes upon the cock's crowing, he takes occasion to mention
   its crowing all hours of the night about Christmas time, and to
   insinuate a kind of religious veneration for that season.


   It faded on the crowing of the cock.

   Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes

   Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,

   The bird of dawning singeth all night long;

   And then, say they, no spirit walks abroad;

   The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,

   No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm:

   So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

   This admirable author, as well as the best and greatest men of all
   ages, and of all nations, seems to have had his mind thoroughly
   seasoned with religion, as is evident by many passages in his plays
   that would not be suffered by a modern audience; and are therefore
   certain instances that the age he lived in had a much greater sense of
   virtue than the present.

   It is indeed a melancholy reflection to consider that the British
   nation, which is now at a greater height of glory for its councils and
   conquests than it ever was before, should distinguish itself by a
   certain looseness of principles, and a falling off from those schemes
   of thinking which conduce to the happiness and perfection of human
   nature. This evil comes upon us from the works of a few solemn
   blockheads, that meet together with the zeal and seriousness of
   apostles, to extirpate common sense, and propagate infidelity. These
   are the wretches, who, without any show of wit, learning, or reason,
   publish their crude conceptions with an ambition of appearing more wise
   than the rest of mankind, upon no other pretence than that of
   dissenting from them. One gets by heart a catalogue of title-pages and
   editions, and immediately to become conspicuous, declares that he is an
   unbeliever. Another knows how to write a receipt, or cut up a dog, and
   forthwith argues again the immortality of the soul. I have known many a
   little wit, in the ostentation of his parts, rally the truth of the
   scripture, who was not able to read a chapter in it. Those poor
   wretches talk blasphemy for want of discourse, and are rather the
   objects of scorn or pity than of our indignation; but the grave
   disputant that reads and writes, and spends all his time in convincing
   himself and the world that he is no better than a brute, ought to be
   whipped out of a government, as a blot to a civil society, and a
   defamer of mankind. I love to consider an infidel, whether
   distinguished by the title of Deist, Atheist, or Free-thinker, in three
   different lights; in his solitudes, his afflictions, and his last
   moments.

   A wise man, that lives up to the principles of reason and virtue, if
   one considers him in his solitude, as taking in the system of the
   universe, observing the mutual dependence and harmony, by which the
   whole frame of it hangs together, beating down his passions or swelling
   his thoughts with magnificent ideas of Providence, makes a nobler
   figure in the eye of an intelligent being than the greatest conqueror
   amidst all the pomps and solemnities of a triumph. On the contrary,
   there is not a more ridiculous animal than an Atheist in his
   retirement. His mind is incapable of rapture or elevation; he can only
   consider himself as an insignificant figure in a landscape, and
   wandering up and down in a field or a meadow, under the same terms as
   the meanest animals about him, and as subject to as total a mortality
   as they; with this aggravation, that he is the only one amongst them
   who lies under the apprehension of it.

   In distresses, he must be of all creatures the most helpless and
   forlorn; he feels the whole pressure of a present calamity without
   being relieved by the memory of any thing that is past, or the prospect
   of any thing that is to come. Annihilation is the greatest blessing
   that he proposes to himself, and an halter or a pistol the only refuge
   he can fly to. But if you would behold one of those gloomy miscreants
   in his poorest figure; you must consider him under the terrors, or at
   the approach of death.

   About thirty years ago I was a-shipboard with one of these vermine,
   when there arose a brisk gale, which could frighten nobody but himself.
   Upon the rolling of the ship, he fell upon his knees, and confessed to
   the chaplain, that he had been a vile Atheist, and had denied a Supreme
   Being ever since he came to his estate. The good wan was astonished,
   and a report immediately ran through the ship that there was an Atheist
   upon the upper deck. Several of the common seamen, who had never heard
   the word before, thought it had been some strange fish; but they were
   more surprised when they saw it was a man, and heard out of his own
   mouth, that he never believed, till that day, that there was a God. As
   he lay in the agonies of confession, one of the honest tars whispered
   to the boatswain, that it would be a good deed to heave him over board.
   But we were now within sight of port, when of a sudden the wind fell,
   and the penitent relapsed, begging all of us that were present, as we
   were Gentlemen, not to say any thing of what had passed.

   He had not been ashore above two days, when one of the company began to
   rally him upon his devotion on shipboard, which the other denied in so
   high terms, that it produced the lie on both sides, and ended in a
   duel. The Atheist was run thro' the body, and after some loss of blood,
   became as good a Christian as he was at sea, till he found that his
   wound was not mortal. He is at present one of the Free-thinkers of the
   age, and now writing a pamphlet against several received opinions
   concerning the existence of fairies.
     __________________________________________________________________

   AFTER having treated of false zealots in religion, [2] I cannot forbear
   mentioning a monstrous species of men, who, one would not think had any
   existence in nature, were they not to be met with in ordinary
   conversation, I mean the zealots in Atheism. One would fancy that these
   men, though they fall short, in every other respect, of those who make
   a profession of religion, would at least out shine them in this
   particular, and be exempt from that single fault which seems to grow
   out of the imprudent fervors of religion: but so it is, that Infidelity
   is propagated with as much fierceness and contention, wrath and
   indignation, as if the safety of mankind depended upon it. There is
   something so ridiculous and perverse in this kind of zealots, that one
   does not know how to set them out in their proper colours. They are a
   sort of gamesters who are eternally upon the fret, though they play for
   nothing. They are perpetually teizing their friends to come over to
   them, though, at the same time, they allow that neither of them shall
   get any thing by the bargain. In short, the zeal of spreading Atheism
   is, if possible, more absurd than Atheism itself.

   Since I have mentioned this unaccountable zeal which appears in
   Atheists, and Infidels, I must further observe that they are likewise
   in a most particular manner possessed with the spirit of bigotry. They
   are wedded to opinions full of contradiction and impossibility, and, at
   the same time, look upon the smallest difficulty in an article of faith
   as a sufficient reason for rejecting it. Notions that fall in with the
   common reason of mankind, that are conformable to the sense of all ages
   and all nations, not to mention their tendency for promoting the
   happiness of societies, or of particular persons, are exploded as
   errors and prejudices; and schemes erected in their stead that are
   altogether monstrous and irrational, and require the most extravagant
   credulity to embrace them. I would fain ask one of these bigotted
   Infidels, supposing all the great points of Atheism, as the casual or
   eternal formation of the world, the materiality of a thinking
   substance, the mortality of the soul, the fortuitous organization of
   the body, the motions and gravitation of matter, with the like
   particulars, were laid together and formed into a kind of creed,
   according to the opinions of the most celebrated Atheists, I say,
   supposing such a creed as this were formed, and imposed upon any one
   people in the world whether it would not require an infinitely greater
   measure of faith, than any set of articles which they so violently
   oppose. Let me therefore advise this generation of wranglers, for their
   own and for the public good, to act a least so confidently with
   themselves, as not to burn with zeal for irreligion, and with bigotry
   for nonsense.
     __________________________________________________________________

   --Cahum ipsum petimus stultitia.--

   Hot. Od. III. I. 1. v. 38.


   --Scarce the Gods, and heavenly climes

   Are safe from our audacious crimes.

   Dryden:

   UPON my return to my lodgings last night, I found a letter from my
   worthy friend the clergyman, whom I have given some account of in my
   former papers. He tells me in it, that he was particularly pleased with
   the latter part of my yesterday's speculation; and at the same time
   inclosed the following essay, which he desires me to publish as the
   sequel of that discourse. It consists partly of uncommon reflections,
   and partly of such as have been already used, but now set in a stronger
   light.

   A believer may be excused by the most hardened Atheist for endeavouring
   to make him a convert, because he does it with an eye to both their
   interests. The Atheist is inexcusable who tries to gain over a
   believer, because he does not propose the doing himself or the believer
   any good by such a conversion.

   The prospect of a future state is the secret comfort and refreshment of
   my soul; it is that which makes nature look gay about me: it doubles
   all my pleasures and supports me under all my afflictions. I can look
   at disappointments and misfortunes, pain and sickness, death itself,
   and what is worse than death, the loss of those who are dearest to me,
   with indifference, so long as I keep in view the pleasures of eternity,
   and the state of being, in which there will be no fears nor
   apprehensions, pains nor sorrows, sickness nor separation. Why will a
   man be so impertinently officious, as to tell me this is only fancy and
   delusion? Is there any merit in being the messenger of ill news? If it
   is a dream let me enjoy it, since it makes me both the happier and the
   better man.

   I must confess I do not know how to trust a man who believes neither
   heaven nor hell, or, in other words, a future state of rewards and
   punishments. Not only natural self-love, but reason directs us to
   promote our own interest above all things. It can never be for the
   interest of a believer to do me a mischief, because he is sure, upon
   the balance of accompts, to find himself a loser by it. On the
   contrary, if he considers his own welfare in his behaviour towards me,
   it will lead him to do me all the good he can, and at the same time
   restrain him from doing me any injury. An unbeliever does not act like
   a reasonable creature, if he favours me contrary to his present
   interest, or does not distress me when it turns to his present
   advantage. Honour and good nature may indeed tie up his hands; but as
   these would be very much strengthened by reason and principle, so
   without them they are only instincts, or wavering unsettled notions,
   which rest on no foundation.

   Infidelity has been attacked with so good success of late years, that
   it is driven out of all its outworks. The Atheist has not found his
   post tenable, and is therefore retired into Deism, and a disbelief of
   revealed religion only. But the truth of it is, the greatest number of
   this set of men, are those who, for want of a virtuous education, or
   examining the grounds of religion, know so very little of the matter in
   question, that their Infidelity is but another term for their
   ignorance.

   As folly and inconsiderateness are the foundations of Infidelity, the
   great pillars and supports of it are either vanity of appearing wiser
   than the rest of mankind, or an ostentation of courage in despising the
   terrors of another world, which have so great an influence on what they
   call weaker minds, or an aversion to a belief that must cut them off
   from many of those pleasures they propose to themselves, and fill them
   with remorse for many of those they have already tasted.

   The great received articles of the Christian religion have been so
   clearly proved, from the authority of that divine revelation in which
   they are delivered, that it is impossible for those who have ears to
   hear, and eyes to see, not to be convinced of them, But were it
   possible for any thing in the Christian faith to be erroneous, I can
   find no ill consequences in adhering to it. The great points of the
   incarnation and sufferings of our Saviour produce naturally such habits
   of virtue in the mind of man, that, I say, supposing it were possible
   for us to be mistaken in them, the Infidel himself must at least allow
   that no other system of religion could so effectually contribute to the
   heightening of morality. They give us great ideas of dignity of human
   nature, and of the love which the Supreme Being bears to his creatures,
   and consequently engage us in the highest acts of our duty towards our
   Creator, our neighbour, and ourselves. How many noble arguments has St.
   Paul raised from the chief articles of our religion, for the advancing
   of morality in its three great branches? To give a single example in
   each kind: What can be a stronger motive to a firm trust and reliance
   on the mercies of our Maker, than the giving us his Son to suffer for
   us? What can make us love and esteem even the most inconsiderable of
   mankind, more than the thought that Christ died for him? Or what
   dispose us to set a stricter guard upon the purity of our own hearts
   than our being members of Christ, and a part of the society of which
   that immaculate person is the head? But these are only a specimen of
   those admirable enforcements of morality which the apostle has drawn
   from the history of our blessed Saviour.

   If our modern Infidels considered these matters with that candour and
   seriousness which they deserve, we should not see them act with such a
   spirit of bitterness, arrogance, and malice; they would not be raising
   such insignificant cavils, doubts, and scruples, as may be started
   against every thing that is not capable of mathematical demonstration;
   in order to unsettle the minds of the ignorant, disturb the public
   peace, subvert morality, and throw all things into confusion and
   disorder. If none of these reflections can have any influence on them,
   there is one that perhaps may, because it is adapted to their vanity by
   which they seem to be guided much more than their reason. I would
   therefore have them consider, that the wisest and best of men in all
   ages of the world have been those who lived up to the religion of their
   country, when they saw nothing in it opposite to morality, and to the
   best lights they had of the divine nature. Pythagoras' first rule
   directs us to worship the gods as it is ordained by law; for that is
   the most natural interpretation of the precept. Socrates, who was the
   most renowned among the Heathens, both for wisdom and virtue, in his
   last moments desires his friends to offer a cock to Æsculapius;
   doubtless out of a submissive deference to the established worship of
   his country. Xenophon tells us that his prince (whom he sets forth as a
   patern of perfection,) when he found his death approaching, offered
   sacrifices on the mountains to the Persian Jupiter, and the sun,
   according to the customs of the Persians; for those are the words of
   the historian. Nay, the Epicureans and anatomical philosophers shewed a
   very remarkable modesty in this particular; for, though the being of a
   God was entirely repugnant to their schemes of natural philosophy, they
   contented themselves with the denial of a providence, asserting at the
   same time the existence of gods in general: because they would not
   shock the common belief of mankind, and the religion of their country.

   Qua ratione queas traducere lemite ævum:
   Ne te semper inops agitet, vexetque cupido;
   Ne pavor el rerum mediocriter utilium spes.

   Hor I. 1. Epist. XVIII v. 97.


   How thou may'st live, how spend thine age in peace;

   Lest avarice, still poor, disturb thy ease;

   Or fears should shake, or cares thy mind abuse,

   Or ardent hope for things of little use.

   Creech.

   HAVING endeavoured, in my last Saturday's paper, to shew the great
   excellency of faith, I shall here consider what are the proper means of
   strengthening and confirming it in the mind of man. Those who delight
   in reading books of controversy, which are written on both sides of the
   question in points of faith, do very seldom arrive at a fixed and
   settled habit of it. They are one day entirely convinced of its
   important truths, and they next meet with something that shakes and
   disturbs them. The doubt which was laid revives again, and shews itself
   in new difficulties; and that generally for this reason, because the
   mind, which is perpetually tossed, in controversies and disputes, is
   apt to forget the reasons which had once set it at rest; and to be
   disquieted with any former perplexity, when it appears in a new shape,
   or is started by a different hand. As nothing is more laudable than an
   inquiry after truth, so nothing is more irrational than to pass away
   our whole lives without determining ourselves one way or other in those
   points which are of the last importance to us. There are indeed many
   things from which we may withhold our assent: but in cases by which we
   are to regulate our lives, it is the greatest absurdity to be wavering
   and unsettled, without closing with that side which appears the most
   safe and the most probable.

   The first rule therefore which I shall lay down is this, that when, by
   reading or discourse, we find .ourselves thoroughly convinced of the
   truth of any article,, and of the reasonableness of our belief in it,
   we should never after suffer ourselves to call it into question. We may
   perhaps forget the arguments which occasioned our conviction, but we
   ought to remember the strength they had with us, and therefore still to
   retain the conviction which they once produced. This is no more than
   what we do in every art or science: nor is it possible to act otherwise
   considering the weakness and limitations of our intellectual faculties.
   It was thus that Latimer, one of the glorious army of martyrs, who
   introduce reformation in England, behaved himself in that great
   conference which was managed between the most learned among the
   Protestants and Papists in the reign of Queen Mary. This venerable old
   man, knowing how his abilities were impaired by age, and that it was
   impossible for him to recollect all those reasons which had directed
   him in the choice of his religion, lest his companions, who were in the
   full possession of their parts and learning, to baffle and confound
   their antagonists by the force of reason. As for himself, he only
   repeated to his adversaries the articles in which he firmly believed,
   and in the profession of which he was determined to die. It is in this
   manner that the mathematician proceeds upon propositions which he has
   once demonstrated and though the demonstration may have slipt out of
   his memory, he builds upon the truth, because he knows it was
   demonstrated. This rule is absolutely necessary for weaker minds, and
   in some measure for men of the greatest abilities.

   But to there last I would propose, in the second place, that they
   should lay up in their memories, and always keep by them in a
   readiness, those arguments which appear to them of the greatest
   strength, and which cannot be got over by all the doubts and cavil of
   Infidelity.

   But, in the third place, there is nothing which strenghtens faith more
   than morality. Faith and morality naturally produce each other. A man
   is quickly convinced of the truth of religion who finds it is not
   against his interest that it should be true. The pleasure he receives
   at present, and the happiness which he promises himself from it
   hereafter, will both dispose him very powerfully to give credit to it,
   according to the ordinary observation, that we are easy to believe what
   we wish. It is very certain that a man of sound reason cannot forbear
   closing with religion upon an impartial examination of it: but at the
   same time it is as certain that faith is kept alive in us, and gathers
   strength from practice more than from speculation.

   There is still another method which is more persuasive than any of the
   former, and that is, an habitual adoration of the Supreme Being, as
   well in constant acts of mental worship as in outward forms. The devout
   man does not only believe but feels there is a Deity. He has actual
   sensations of him: his experience concurs with his reason; he sees him
   more and more in all his intercourses with him, and even in this life
   almost loses his faith in conviction.

   The last method which I shall mention for the giving life to a man's
   faith, is frequent retirement from the world, accompanied with
   religious meditation. When a man thinks of any thing in the darkness of
   the night, whatever deep impressions it may make in his mind, they are
   apt to vanish as soon as the day breaks about him. The light and noise
   of the day, which are perpetually soliciting his senses, and calling
   off his attention, wear out of his mind the thoughts that imprinted
   themselves in it with so much strength, during the silence and darkness
   of the night. A man finds the same difference as to himself in a crowd,
   and in a solitude; the mind is stunned and dazzled amidst that variety
   of objects which press upon her in a great city; she cannot apply
   herself to the consideration of those things which are of the utmost
   concern to her. The cares or pleasures of the world strike in with
   every thought, and a multitude of vicious examples give a kind of
   justification to our folly. In our retirements every thing disposes us
   to be serious. In courts and cities we are entertained with the works
   of men; in the country with those of God. One is the province of art,
   the other of nature. Faith and devotion naturally grow in the mind of
   every reasonable man, who sees the impressions of divine power and
   wisdom in every object on which he casts his eye. The Supreme Being has
   made the best arguments for his own existence in the formation of the
   heavens and the earth; and these are arguments which a man of sense
   cannot forbear attending to, who is out of the noise and hurry of human
   affairs. Aristotle says, that should a man live under ground, and there
   converse with works of art and mechanism, and should afterwards be
   brought up into the open day, and see the several glories of the heaven
   and earth, he would immediately pronounce them the works of such a
   being, as we define God to be. The Psalmist has very beautiful strokes
   of poetry to this purpose in that exalted strain, "The heavens declare
   the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handy-work. One day
   telleth another; and one night certifieth another. There is neither
   speech nor language, but their voices are heard among them. Their sound
   is gone out into all lands, and their words into the ends of the
   world." As such a bold and sublime manner of thinking furnishes very
   noble matter for an ode, the reader may see it wrought into the
   following one.

   I.


   The spacious firmament on high,

   With all the blue etherial sky,

   And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame,

   Their great Original proclaim:

   Th' unweary'd sun, from day to day,

   Does his Creator's power display,

   And publishes to every land

   The work of an almighty hand.

   II.


   Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail,

   The moon takes up the wondrous tale,

   And nightly to the list'ning earth

   Repeats the story of her birth:

   Whilst all the stars that round her burn,

   And all the planets in their turn,

   Confirm the tidings as they roll,

   And spread the truth from pole to pole.

   III.


   What though, in solemn silence all

   Move round the dark terrestrial ball!

   What though no real voice nor sound

   Amid their radiant orbs be found!

   In reason's ear they all rejoice,

   And utter forth a glorious voice:

   For ever singing as they shine;

   The hand that made us is divine.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [2] See Spect. vol. III. No. 185.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. IX.

AGAINST THE MODERN FREE-THINKERS.

   Sir,

   THERE arrived in this neighbourhood, two days ago, one of your gay
   gentlemen of the town, who being attended at his entry with a servant
   of his own, besides a countryman he had taken up for a guide, excited
   the curiosity of the village to learn whence and what he might be. The
   countryman (to whom they applied as most easy of access) knew little
   more than that the gentleman came from London to travel and see
   fashions, and was, as he heard say, a Free-thinker; what religion that
   might be he could not tell; and for his own part, if they had not told
   him the man was a Free-thinker he should have guessed, by his way of
   talking, he was little better than a Heathen; excepting only that he
   had been a good gentleman to him, and made him drunk twice in one day,
   over and above what they had bargained for.

   I do not look upon the simplicity of this, and several odd inquiries
   with which I shall not trouble you, to be wondered at; much less can I
   think that our youths of fine wit and enlarged understandings have any
   reason to laugh. There is no necessity that every squire in Great
   Britain should know what the word Free-thinker stands for: but it were
   much to be willed that they who value themselves upon that conceited
   title were a little better instructed in what it ought to stand for,
   and that they would not persuade themselves a man is really and truly a
   Free-thinker in any tolerable sense, merely by virtue of his being an
   Atheist, or an Infidel of any other distinction. It may be doubted with
   good reason, whether there ever was in nature a more abject, slavish,
   and bigotted generation than the tribe of Beaux Efprits at present so
   prevailing in this island. Their pretension to be Free-thinkers is no
   other than rakes have to be free-livers, and savages to be free-men;
   that is, they can think whatever they have a mind to, and give
   themselves up to whatever conceit the extravagancy of their inclination
   or their fancy shall suggest; they can think as wildly as talk and act,
   and will not endure that their wit should be controlled by such formal
   things as decency and common sense; deduction, coherence, consistency,
   and all the rules of reason, they accordingly disdain, as too precise
   and mechanical for men of a liberal education.

   This, as far as I could ever learn from their writings, or my own
   observation, is a true account of the British Free-thinker. Our
   visitant here who gave occasion for this paper, has brought with him a
   new system of common sense, the particulars of which I am not yet
   acquainted with, but will lose no opportunity of informing myself
   whether it contains any thing worth Mr. Spectator's notice. In the mean
   time, Sir, I cannot but think it would be for the good of mankind if
   you would take this subject into your own consideration, and convince
   the hopeful youth of our nation that licentiousness is not freedom: or,
   if such a paradox will not be understood, that a prejudice towards
   Atheism is not impartiality.

   l am, Sir, your most humble Servant,

   Philonous.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Quicquid est illud, quod sentit, quod sapit, quod vult, quod viget,
   cæleste et divinum est, ab eamque rem æternum sit necesse est.

   Tull.

   Whatever that principle is, which lives, perceives, understands, and
   wills, the same is heavenly and divine, and consequently eternal.

   I AM diverted from the account I was giving the town of my particular
   concerns by casting my eye upon a treatise, which I could not overlook
   without an inexcuseable negligence and want of concern for all the
   civil as well as religious interests of mankind. This piece has for its
   title "A Discourse of Free-thinking, occasioned by the rise and growth
   of a sect called Free-thinkers." The author very methodically enters
   upon his argument, and says, "By Free-thinking, I mean the use of the
   understanding in endeavouring, to find out the meaning of any
   proposition whatsoever, in considering the nature of the evidence for
   or against, and in judging of it according to the seeming force or
   weakness of the evidence." As soon as he has delivered this definition,
   from which one would expect he did not design to shew a particular
   inclination for or against any thing before he had considered it, he
   gives up all title to the character of a Free-thinker, with the most
   apparent prejudice against a body of men, whom of all others a good man
   would be most careful not to violate, I mean, men in holy orders.
   Persons who have devoted themselves to the service of God are venerable
   to all who fear him: and it is a certain characteristic of a dissolute
   and ungoverned mind to rail or speak disrespectfully of them in
   general. It is certain, that in so great a crowd of men some will
   intrude who are of tempers very unbecoming their function: but because
   ambition and avarice are sometimes lodged in that bosom, which ought to
   be the dwelling of sanctity and devotion, must this unreasonable author
   vilify the whole order! He has not taken the least care to disguise his
   being an enemy to the persons against whom he writes, nor any where
   granted, that the institution of religious men to serve at the altar,
   and instruct such who are not so wise as himself, is at all necessary
   or desirable, but proceeds, without the least apology, to undermind
   their credit, and frustrate their labours. Whatever clergymen, in
   disputes against each other, have unguardedly uttered, is here recorded
   in such a manner as to affect religion itself by wresting concessions
   to its disadvantage from its own teachers. If this be true, as sure any
   man that reads the discourse must allow it is; and if religion is the
   strongest tie of human society, in what manner are we to treat this our
   common enemy, who promotes the growth of such a sect as he calls
   Free-thinkers? He that should burn a house, and justify the action, by
   asserting he is a free agent, would be more excuseable than this author
   in uttering what he has from the right of a Free-thinker; but they are
   a set of dry, joyless, dull fellows, who want capacities and talents to
   make a figure amongst mankind upon benevolent and generous principles,
   that think to surmount their own natural meanness, by laying offences
   in the way of such as make it their endeavour to excel upon the
   received maxims and honest arts of life. If it were possible to laugh
   at so melancholy an affair as what hazards salvation, it would be no
   unpleasant inquiry to ask what satisfaction they reap, what
   extraordinary gratification of sense, or what delicious libertinism
   this sect of Free-thinkers enjoy, after getting loose of the laws which
   confine the passions of other men? Would it not be a matter of mirth to
   find, after all, that the heads of this growing sect are sober
   wretches, who prate whole evenings over coffee, and have not themselves
   fire enough to be any farther debauchees than merely in principle?
   These sages of iniquity are, it seems, themselves only speculatively
   wicked, and are contented that all the abandoned young men of the age
   are kept safe from reflection, by dabbling in their rhapsodies, without
   tasting the pleasures for which their doctrines leave them
   unaccountable. Thus do heavy mortals, only to gratify a dry pride of
   heart, give up the interests of another world, without enlarging their
   gratifications in this; but it is certain that there are a sort of men
   that can puzzle truth, but cannot enjoy the satisfaction of it. The
   same Freethinker is a creature unacquainted with the emotions which
   possess great minds when they are tuned for religion; and it is
   apparent that he is untouched with any such sensation as the rapture of
   devotion. Whatever one of these scorners may think, they certainly want
   parts to be devout; a sense of piety towards heaven, as well as the
   sense of any thing else, is lively and warm in proportion to the
   faculties of the head and heart. This gentleman may be assured he has
   not a taste for what he pretends to decry, and the poor man is
   certainly more a blockhead than an Atheist. I must repeat, that he
   wants capacity to relish what true piety is: and he is as capable of
   writing an heroic poem as making a fervent prayer. When men are thus
   low and narrow in their apprehensions of things, and at the same time
   vain, they are naturally led to think every thing they do not
   understand not to be understood. Their contradiction to what is urged
   by others is a necessary consequence of their incapacity to receive it.
   Atheistical fellows, who appeared the last age, did not serve the devil
   for nought, but revelled in excesses suitable to their principles,
   while in these unhappy days mischief is done for mischief's sake. These
   Free-thinkers, who lead the lives of recluse students, for no other
   purpose but to disturb the sentiments of other men, put me in mind of
   the monstrous recreation of these late wild youths, who, without
   provocation, had a wantonness in stabbing and defacing those they met
   with. When such writers as this, who has no spirit but that of malice,
   pretend to inform the age, Mohocks and cut-throats may well set up for
   wits and men of pleasure.

   It will be perhaps expected, that I should produce some instances of
   the ill intention of this Free-thinker, to support the treatment I here
   give him. In his 52d page he says,

   "2dly. The priests throughout the world differ about Scriptures, and
   the authority of Scriptures. The Bramins have a book of Scripture
   called the Shafter. The Persees have their Zundavastaw. The Bonzes of
   China have books written by the disciples of Fo-he, whom they call the
   God and Saviour of the world, who was born to teach the way of
   salvation, and to give satisfaction for all men's sins. The Taiapoins
   of Siam have a book of Scripture, written by Sommonocodom, who, the
   Siamese say, was born of a virgin, and was the God expected by the
   universe. The Dervizes have their Alcoran."

   I believe their is no one will dispute the author's great impartiality
   in setting down the accounts of there different religions. And I think
   it is pretty evident he delivers the matter with an air, that betrays
   the history of one born of a virgin has as much authority with him,
   from St. Sommonocodom, as from St. Matthew. Thus he treats revelation.
   Then as to philosophy, he tells you, p. 136, "Cicero produces this as
   an instance of a probable opinion, that they who study philosophy do
   not believe there are any gods;" and then, from consideration of
   various notions he affirms Tully concludes, "That there can be nothing
   after death."

   As to what he misrepresents of Tully, the short sentence on the head of
   this paper is enough to oppose; but who can have patience to reflect
   upon the assembly of impostures among which our author places the
   religion of his country? As for my part, I cannot see any possible
   interpretation to give this work, but a design to subvert and ridicule
   the authority of Scripture. The peace and tranquility of the nation,
   and regards even above those, are so much concerned in this matter,
   that it is difficult to express sufficient sorrow for the offender, or
   indignation against him. But if ever man deserved to be denied the
   common benefits of air and water, it is the author of a discourse of
   Free-thinking.
     __________________________________________________________________

   --mentisque capacius altæ. Ovid. I. 1. v. 76.

   Capacious of a more exalted mind.

   AS I was the other day taking a solitary walk in St. Paul's, indulged
   my thoughts in the pursuit of a certain analogy between the fabric and
   the Christian church in the largest sense. The divine order and
   oeconomy of the one seemed to be emblematically set forth by the just,
   plain and majestic architecture of the other. And as the one consists
   of a great variety of parts united in the same regular design,
   according to the truest art, and most exact proportion; so the other
   contains a decent subordination of members, various sacred
   institutions, sublime doctrines, and solid precepts of morality
   digested into the same design, and with an admirable concurrence
   tending to one view, the happiness and exaltation of human nature.

   In the midst of my contemplation I beheld a fly upon one of the
   pillars; and it straight-way came into my head, that this same fly was
   a Free-thinker. For it required some comprehension in the eye of the
   spectator to take in at one view the various parts of the building, in
   order to observe their symmetry and design. But to the fly, whose
   prospect was confined to a little part of one of the stones of a single
   pillar, the joint beauty of the whole, or the distinct use of its
   parts, were inconspicuous, and nothing could appear but small
   inequalities in the surface of the hewn none, which, in the view of
   that insect, seemed so many deformed rocks and precipices.

   The thoughts of a Free-thinker are employed on certain minute
   particularities of religion, the difficulty of a single text, or the
   unaccountableness of some step of Providence or point of doctrine to
   his narrow faculties, without comprehending the scope and design of
   Christianity, the perfection to which it raiseth human nature, the
   light it hath shed abroad in the world, and the close connection it
   hath as well with the good of public societies, as with that of
   particular persons.

   This raised in me some reflections on that frame or disposition which
   is called largeness of mind, its necessity towards forming a true
   judgment of things, and where the soul is not incurably stinted by
   nature, what are the likeliest methods to give it enlargement.

   It is evident that philosophy doth open and enlarge the mind, by the
   general views to which men are habituated in that study, and by the
   contemplation or more numerous and distant objects than fall within the
   sphere of mankind in the ordinary pursuits of life. Hence it comes to
   pass that philosophers judge of most things very differently from the
   vulgar. Some instances of this may be seen in the Theætetus of Plato,
   where Socrates makes the following remarks among others of the like
   nature.

   "When a philosopher hears ten thousand acres mentioned as a great
   estate, he looks upon it as an inconsiderable spot, having been used to
   contemplate the whole globe of earth; or when he beholds a man elated
   with the nobility of his race, because he can reckon a series of seven
   rich ancestors, the philosopher thinks him a stupid ignorant fellow,
   whose mind cannot reach to a general view of human nature, which would
   shew him that we have all innumerable ancestors, among whom are crouds
   of rich and poor, kings and slaves, Greeks and Barbarians." Thus far
   Socrates, who was accounted wiser than the rest of the Heathens, for
   notions which approach the nearest to Christianity.

   As all parts and branches of philosophy, or speculative knowledge, are
   useful in that respect, astronomy is peculiarly adapted to remedy a
   little and narrow spirit. In that science, there are good reasons
   assigned to prove the sun an hundred thousand times bigger than our
   earth; and the distance of the stars so prodigious, that a cannon
   bullet, continuing in its ordinary rapid motion, would not arrive from
   hence at the nearest of them in the space of an hundred and fifty
   thousand years. These ideas wonderfully dilate and expand the mind.
   There is something in the immensity of this distance, that shocks and
   overwhelms the imagination, it is too big for the grasp of the human
   intellect: estates, provinces, and kingdoms, vanish at its presence. It
   were to be wished a certain prince, who hath encouraged the study of it
   in his subjects, had been himself a proficient in astronomy. This might
   have shewed him how mean an ambition that was, which terminated in a
   small part of what is in itself but a point, in respect of that part of
   the universe which lies within our view.

   But the Christian religion ennobleth and enlargeth the mind beyond any
   other profession or science whatsoever. Upon that scheme, while the
   earth, and the transient enjoyments of this life, shrink in the
   narrowest dimensions, and are accounted as "the dast of a balance, the
   drop of a bucket, yea less than nothing," the intellectual world opens
   wider to our view: the perfections of the Deity, the nature and
   excellency of virtue, the dignity of the human soul, are displayed in
   the largest characters. The mind of man seems to adapt itself to the
   different nature of its objects; it is contracted and debased by being
   conversant in little and low things, and feels a proportionable
   enlargement arising from the contemplation of these great and sublime
   ideas.

   The greatness of things is comparative; and this does not only hold, in
   respect of extension, but likewise in respect of dignity, duration, and
   all kinds of perfection. Astronomy opens the mind, and alters our
   judgment, with regard to the magnitude of extended beings but
   Christianity produceth an universal greatness of soul. Philosophy
   increaseth our views in every respect but Christianity extends them to
   a degree beyond the light of nature.

   How mean must the most exalted potentate upon earth appear to that eye
   which takes in innumerable orders of blessed spirits, differing in
   glory and perfection? How little must the amusements of sense, and the
   ordinary occupations of mortal men, seem to one who engaged in so noble
   a pursuit, as the assimulation of himself to the Deity, which is the
   proper employment of every Christian!

   And the improvement which grows from habituating the mind to the
   comprehensive views of religion must not be thought wholly to regard
   the understanding. Nothing is of greater force to subdue the inordinate
   motions of the heart, and to regulate the will. Whether a man be
   actuated by his passions or his reason, these are first wrought upon by
   some object, which stirs the soul in proportion to its apparent
   dimensions. Hence irreligious men, whose short prospects are filled
   with earth, and sense, and mortal life, are invited by these mean
   ideas, to actions proportionably little and low. But a mind whose views
   are enlightened and extended by religion, is animated to nobler
   pursuits, by more sublime and remote objects.

   There is not any instance of weakness in the Free-thinkers that raises
   my indignation more, than their pretending to ridicule Christians, as
   men of narrow understandings, and to pass themselves upon the world for
   persons of superior sense, and more enlarged views. But I leave it to
   any impartial man to judge which hath the nobler sentiments, which the
   greater views; he whose notions are stinted to a few miserable inlets
   of sense, or he whose sentiments are raised above the common taste, by
   the anticipation of those delights which will satiate the soul, when
   the whole capacity of her nature is branched out into new faculties? he
   who looks for nothing beyond this short span of duration, or he whose
   aims are so extended with the endless length of eternity? he who
   derives his spirit from the elements, or he who thinks it was inspired
   by the Almighty?
     __________________________________________________________________

   Sir,

   "SINCE you have not refused to insert matters of a theological nature
   in those excellent papers, with which you daily both instruct and
   divert us, I earnestly desire you to print the following paper. The
   notions therein advanced are, for ought I know, new to the English
   reader, and, if they are true, will afford room for more useful
   inferences.

   No man that reads the Evangelists, but must observe that our blessed
   Saviour does upon every occasion bend all his force and zeal to rebuke
   and correct the hypocrisy of the Pharisees. Upon that subject he shews
   a warmth which one meets with in no other part of his sermons. They
   were so enraged at the public detection of their secret villanies, by
   one who saw through all their disguises, that they joined in the
   prosecution of him; which was so vigorous that Pilate at last consented
   to his death. The frequency and vehemence of these reprehensions of our
   Lord, have made the word Pharisee to be looked upon as odious among
   Christians, and to mean only one who lays the utmost stress upon the
   outward, ceremonial and ritual part of his religion, without having
   such an inward sense of it as would lead him to a general and sincere
   observance of those duties which can only arise from the heart, and
   which cannot be supposed to spring from a desire of applause or profit.

   This is plain from the history of the life and actions of our Lord, in
   the four Evangelists. One of them, St. Luke, continued his history down
   in a second part, which we commonly call the Acts of the Apostles. Now
   it is observable, that in this second part, in which he gives a
   particular account of what the apostles did and suffered at Jerusalem
   upon their firstl entering upon their commission, and also of what St.
   Paul did after he was consecrated to the apostleship till his journey
   to Rome, we find not only no opposition to Christianity from the
   Pharisees, but several signal occasions in which they assisted its
   first teachers, when the Christian church was in its infant state. The
   true, zealous and heart persecutors of Christianity at that time were
   the Sadducees, whom we may truly call the Free-thinkers among the Jews.
   They believed neither resurrection, nor angel, nor spirit, i.e., in
   plain English, they were Deists at least, if not Atheists. They could
   outwardly comply with, and conform to the establishment in church and
   state, and they pretended forsooth to belong only to a particular sect;
   and because there was nothing in the law of Moses, which, in many
   words, asserted a resurrection, they appeared to adhere to that in a
   particular manner beyond any other part of the Old Testament. These men
   therefore justly dreaded the spreading of Christianity after the
   ascension of our Lord, because it was wholly founded upon his
   resurrection.

   Accordingly, therefore, when Peter and John had cured the lame man at
   the beautiful gate of the temple, and had thereby raised a wonderful
   expectation of themselves among the people, the priests and Sadducees,
   clapt them up, and sent them away for the first time with a severe
   reprimand. Quickly after, when the deaths of Ananias and Sapphira, and
   many miracles wrought after those severe instances of the apostolical
   power had alarmed the priests, who looked upon the temple worship, and
   consequently their bread, to be struck at; these priests, and all they
   that were with them, who were of the sect of the Sadducees, imprisoned
   the apostles, intending to examine them in the great council the next
   day: where, when the council met, and the priests and Sadducees
   proposed to proceed with great rigour against them, we find that
   Gamaliel, a very eminent Pharisee, St. Paul's master, a man of great
   authority among the people, many of whose determinations we have still
   preserved in the body of the Jewish traditions, commonly called the
   Talmud, opposed their heat, and told them, for ought they knew, the
   apostles might be actuated by the Spirit of God, and that in such a
   case it would be in vain to oppose them; since, if they did so, they
   would only fight against God, whom they could not overcome. Gamaliel
   was so considerable a man amongst his own sect, that we may reasonably
   believe he spoke the sense of his party as well as his own. St.
   Stephen's martyrdom came on presently after, in which we do not find
   the Pharisees, as such, had any hand; it is probable that he was
   prosecuted by those who had before imprisoned Peter and John. One
   novice indeed of that sect was so zealous that he kept the clothes of
   those that stoned him. This novice, whose zeal went beyond all bounds,
   the great St. Paul, who was particularly honoured with a call from
   heaven by which be was converted, and he was afterwards, by God
   himself, appointed to be the Apostle of the Gentiles. Besides him, and
   him too reclaimed in so glorious a manner, we find no one Pharisee,
   either named or hinted at by St. Luke, as an opposer of Christianity in
   these earliest days. What others might do we know not. But we find the
   Sadducees pursuing St. Paul even to death at his coming to Jerusalem,
   in the 21st of the Acts. He then, upon all occasions, owned himself to
   be a Pharisee. In the 22d chapter he told the people, that he had been
   bred up at the feet of Gamaliel after the strictest manner, in the law
   of his fathers. In the 23d chapter he told the council that he was a
   Pharisee, the son of a Pharisee, and that he was accused for asserting
   the hope and resurrection of the dead, which was their darling
   doctrine. Hereupon the Pharisees stood by him, and though they did not
   own our Saviour to be the Messiah, yet they would not deny but some
   angel or spirit might have spoken to him, and then if they opposed him,
   they should fight against God. This was the very argument Gamaliel had
   used before. The resurrection of our Lord, which they saw so
   strenuously asserted by the apostles, whose miracles they also saw and
   owned, (Acts iv. 16) seems to have struck them, and many of them were
   converted (Acts xv. 5.) even without a miracle, and the rest stood
   still and made no opposition.

   We see here what the part was which the Pharisees acted in this
   important conjuncture. Of the Sadducees, we meet not with one in the
   whole apostolic history that was converted. We hear of no miracles
   wrought to convince any of them, though there was an eminent one
   wrought to reclaim a Pharisee. St. Paul, we see, after his conversion,
   always gloried in his having been bred a Pharisee. He did so to the
   people of Jerusalem, to the great council, to King Agrippa, and to the
   Philippians. So that from hence we may justly infer, that is was not
   their institution, which was in itself laudable, which our blessed
   Saviour found fault with, but it was their hypocrisy, their
   covetousness, their oppression, the overvaluing themselves upon their
   zeal for the ceremonial law, and their adding to that yoke, by their
   traditions, all which were not properly essentials of their
   institution, that our Lord blamed.

   But I must not run on. What I would observe, Sir, is, that Atheism is
   more dreadful, and would be more grievous to human society, if it were
   invested with sufficient power, than religion under any shape, where
   its professors do at the bottom believe what they profess, I despair
   not of a Papist's conversion, though I would not willingly lie at a
   zealot Papist's mercy, (and no Protestant would, if he knew what Popery
   is) though he truly believes in our Saviour. But the Free-thinker, who
   scarcely believes there is a God, and certainly disbelieves revelations
   is a very terrible animal. He will talk of natural rights, and the just
   freedoms of mankind, no longer than till he himself gets into power;
   and, by the instance before us, we have small grounds to hope for his
   salvation, or that God will ever vouchsafe him sufficient grace to
   reclaim him from errors, which have been so immediately levelled
   against himself.

   If these notions be true, as I verily believe they are, I thought they
   might be worth publishing at this time, for which reason they are sent
   in this manner to you by,

   Sir,

   Your most humble Servant.

   M. N.

   Quid si in hoc erro, quod animos hominum immortales esse credam,
   libenter erro: nec mihi hunc errorem, quo delector, dum vivo,
   extorqueri velo: sin mortuus (ut quidam minuti philosophi censent)
   nihil sentiam; no vereor, ne hunc errorem meum mortui philosophi
   irrideant.

   I please myself in my mistake: nor while I live, will I ever chuse,
   that this opinion, wherewith I am so much delighted, should be wrested
   from me, but if, at death, I am to be annihilated, as some minute
   philosophers imagine, I am not afraid lest those wise men when extinct
   too, should laugh at my error.

   SEVERAL letters which I have lately received give me information, that
   some well disposed persons have taken offence at my using the word
   Free-thinker as a term of reproach; To set therefore this matter in a
   clear light, I must declare that no one can have a greater veneration
   than myself for the Free-thinkers of antiquity, who acted the same part
   in those times, as the great men of the reformation did in several
   nations of Europe, by exerting themselves against the idolatry and
   superstition of the times in which they lived. It was by this noble
   impulse that Socrates and his disciples, as well as all the
   philosophers of note in Greece; and Cicero, Seneca, with all the
   learned men of Rome, endeavoured to enlighten their contemporaries
   amidst the darkness and ignorance in which the world was then sunk and
   buried.

   The great points which these Free-thinkers endeavoured to establish and
   inculcate into the minds of men, were, the formation of the universe,
   the superintendency of Providence, the perfection of the divine nature,
   the immortality of the soul, and the future state of rewards and
   punishments. They all complied with the religion of their country, as
   much as possible, in such particulars as did not contradict and pervert
   these great and fundamental doctrines of mankind. On the contrary, the
   persons who now set up for Free-thinkers, are such as endeavour, by a
   little trash of words and sophistry, to weaken and destroy those very
   principles, for the vindication of which, freedom of thought at first
   become laudable and heroic. These apostates from reason and good sense,
   can look at the glorious frame of nature, without paying any adoration
   to him that raised it; can consider the great revolutions in the
   universe, without lifting up their minds to that superior power which
   hath the direction of it; can presume to censure the Deity in his ways
   towards men; can level mankind with the beasts that perish; can
   extinguish in their own minds all the pleasing hopes of a future state,
   and lull themselves into a stupid security against the terrors of it.
   If one were to take the word Priestcraft out of the mouths of these
   shallow monsters, they would be immediately struck dumb. It is by the
   help of this single term that they endeavour to disappoint the good
   works of the most learned and venerable order of men, and harden the
   hearts of the ignorant against the very light of nature, and the common
   received notions of mankind. We might not to treat such miscreants as
   these upon the foot of fair disputants, but to pour out contempt upon
   them, and speak of them with scorn and infamy, as the pest of society,
   the revilers of human nature, and the blasphemers of a Being, whom a
   good man would rather die than hear dishonoured. Cicero, after having
   mentioned the great heroes of knowledge that recommended this divine
   doctrine of the immortality of the soul, calls those small pretenders
   to wisdom who declared against it, certain minute philosophers, using a
   diminutive even of the word little, to express the despicable opinion
   he had of them. The contempt he throws upon them in another passage is
   yet more remarkable; where, to shew the mean thoughts he entertains of
   them, he declares, he would rather be in the wrong with Plato, than in
   the right with such company. There is indeed nothing in the world so
   ridiculous as one of these grave philosophical Free-thinkers, that hath
   neither passions nor appetites to gratify, no hates of blood nor vigour
   of constitution that can turn his systems of Infidelity to his
   advantage, or raise pleasures out of them which are inconsistent with
   the belief of an hereafter. One that has neither wit, gallantry, mirth
   or youth to indulge by those notions, but only a poor, joyless,
   uncomfortable vanity of distinguishing himself from the rest of
   mankind, is rather to be regarded as a mischievous lunatic than a
   mistaken philosopher. A chaste Infidel, a speculative Libertine, is an
   animal that I should not believe to be in nature, did I not sometimes
   meet with this species of men, that plead for the indulgence of their
   passions in the midst of a severe studious life, and talk against the
   immortality of the soul over a dish of coffee.

   I would fain ask a minute philosopher, what good he proposes to mankind
   by the publishing of his doctrines? Will they make a man a better
   citizen, or father of a family; a more endearing husband, friend, or
   son? Will they enlarge his public or private virtues, or correct any of
   his frailties or vices? What is there either joyful or glorious in such
   opinions? Do they either refresh or enlarge our thoughts? Do they
   contribute to the happiness, or raise the dignity of human nature? The
   only good that I have ever heard pretended to, is, that they banish
   terrors, and set the mind at ease. But whose terrors do they banish? It
   is certain, if there were any strength in their arguments, they would
   give great disturbance to minds that are influenced by virtue, honour
   and morality, and take from us the only comforts and supports of
   affliction, sickness and old age. The minds therefore which they set at
   ease, are only those of impenitent criminals and malefactors, and
   which, to the good of mankind, should be in perpetual terror and alarm.

   I must confess, nothing is more of usual than for a Free-thinker, in
   proportion as the insolence of scepticism is abated in him by years and
   knowledge, or humbled or beaten down by sorrow or sickness, to
   reconcile himself to the general conceptions of reasonable creatures;
   so that we frequently see the apostates turning from their revolt
   toward the end of their lives, and employing the refuse of their parts
   in promoting those truths which they had before endeavoured to
   invalidate.

   The history of a Gentleman in France is very well known, who was so
   zealous a promoter of Infidelity, that he had got together a select
   company of disciples, and travelled into all parts of the kingdom to
   make converts. In the midst of his fantastical success he fell sick,
   and was reclaimed to such a sense of his condition, that after he had
   passed some time in great agonies and horrors of mind, he begged those
   who had the care of burying him, to dress his body in the habit of a
   Capuchin, that the devil might not run away with it: and, to do farther
   justice upon himself, desired them to tie a halter about his neck, as a
   mark of that ignominious punishment, which in his own thoughts he he
   had so justly deserved.

   I would not have persecution so far disgraced, as to with these vermin
   might be animadverted on by any legal penalties; though I think it
   would be highly reasonable that those few of them who die in the
   professions of their infidelity, should have such tokens of infamy
   fixed upon them, as might distinguish those bodies which are given up
   by the owners to oblivion and putrefaction, from those which rest in
   hope, and shall rise in glory. But, at the same time that I am against
   doing them the honour of the notice of our laws, which ought not to
   suppose there are such criminals in being, I have often wondered, how
   they can be tolerated in any mixed conversations, while they are
   venting these absurd opinions; and should think, that if, on any such
   occasions, half a dozen of the most robust Christians in the company
   would lead one of these Gentlemen to a pump, or convey him into a
   blanket, they would do very good service both to church and state. I do
   not know how the law stands in this particular; but I hope, whatever
   knocks, bangs or thumps, might be given with such an honest intention,
   would not be construed as a breach of the peace. I dare say they would
   not be returned by the person who receives them; for whatever these
   fools may say in the vanity of their hearts, they are too wise to risk
   their lives upon the uncertainty of their opinions.

   When I was a young man about this town, I frequented the ordinary of
   the Black Horse, in Holburn, where the person that usually presided at
   the table was a rough old-fashioned Gentleman, who according to the
   customs of those times, had been the Major and Preacher of a regiment.
   It happened one day that a nosy young officer, bred in France, was
   venting some new fangled notions, and speaking, in the gaity of his
   humour, against the dispensations of Providence. The Major at first
   only desired him to talk more respectfully of one for whom all the
   company had an honour; but finding him run on in his extravagance,
   began to reprimand him after a more serious manner. Young man! said he,
   do not abuse your benefactor, whilst you are eating his bread. Consider
   whose air you breathe, whose presence you are in, and who it is that
   gave you the power of that very speech which you make use of to his
   dishonour. The young fellow, who thought to turn matters into a jest,
   asked him, if he was going to preach? But, at the same time, desired
   him to take care what he said, when he spoke to a man of honour. A man
   of honour, says the Major; thou art an Infidel and a blasphemer, and I
   shall use thee as such. In short, the quarrel ran so high, that the
   Major was desired to walkout. Upon their coming into the garden, the
   old fellow advised his antagonist to consider the place into which one
   pass might drive him; but finding him grow upon him to a degree of
   scurrility, as believing the advice proceeded from fear; Sirrah, says
   he, if a thunderbolt does not strike thee dead before I come at thee, I
   than not fail to chastise thee for thy profaneness to thy Maker, and
   thy sauciness to his servant. Upon this he drew his sword, and cried
   out with a loud voice, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon;" which so
   terrified his antagonist, that he was immediately disarmed, and thrown
   upon his knees. In this posture he begged his life; but the Major
   refused to grant it before he had asked pardon for his offence in a
   short extemporary prayer, which the old Gentleman dictated to him upon
   the spot, and which his proselyte repeated after him, in the presence
   of the whole ordinary, that were now gathered about him in the garden.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. X.

IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL, AND A FUTURE STATE.

   --Inter silvas academi quærere verum.

   Hor. lib. II. epist. 2. v. 45.

   To search out truth in academic groves.

   THE course of my last speculation [3] led me insensibly into a subject
   upon which I always meditate with great delight, I mean the immortality
   of the soul. I was yesterday walking alone in one of my friend's woods,
   and lost myself in it, very agreeably, as I was running over in my mind
   the several arguments that establish this great point, which is the
   basis of morality, and the source of all the pleasing hopes and secret
   joys that can arise in the heart of a reasonable creature. I considered
   those several proofs drawn,

   First, from the nature of the soul itself, and particularly its
   immateriality, which, though not absolutely necessary to the eternity
   of its duration, has, I think, been evinced to almost a demonstration.

   Secondly, from its passions and sentiments, as particularly from its
   love of existence, its horror of annihilation, and its hopes of
   immortality, with that secret satisfaction which it finds in the
   practice of virtue, and that uneasiness which follows in it upon the
   commission of vice.

   Thirdly, from the nature of the Supreme Being, whole justice, goodness,
   wisdom and veracity, are all concerned in this great point.

   But among these and other excellent arguments for the immortality of
   the soul, there is one drawn from the perpetual progress of the soul,
   to its perfection, without a possibility of ever arriving at it; which
   is a hint that I do not remember to have seen opened and improved by
   others who have written on this subject, though it seems to me to carry
   a great weight with it. How can it enter into the thoughts of man, that
   the soul, which is capable of such immense perfections, and of
   receiving new improvements to all eternity, shall fall away into
   nothing almost as soon as it is created? Are such abilities made for no
   purpose? A brute arrives at a point of perfection that he can never
   pass; in a few years he has all the endowments he is capable of; and
   were he to live ten thousand more, would be the same thing he is at
   present. Were a human soul thus at a stand in her accomplishments, were
   her faculties to be full blown, and incapable of further enlargements,
   I could imagine it might fall away insensibly, and drop at once into a
   state of annihilation. But can we believe a thinking being, that is in
   a perpetual progress of improvements, and travelling on from perfection
   to perfection, after having just looked abroad into the works of its
   Creator, and made a few discoveries of his infinite goodness, wisdom,
   and power, must perish at her first setting out, and in the very
   beginning of her enquiries?

   A man, considered in his present state, seems only sent into the world
   to propagate his kind. He provides himself with a successor, and
   immediately quits his post to make room for him.

   ----Hæres
   Hæredem alterius, velut unda supervenit undam.

   Hor. lib. II. Epist. 2. v. 175.


   Heir urges on his predecessor heir,

   Like wave impelling wave.

   He does not seem born to enjoy life, but to deliver it down to others.
   This is not surprising to consider in animals, which are formed for our
   use, and can finish their business in a short life. The silk-worm,
   after having spun her task, lays her eggs and dies. But a man can never
   have taken in his full measure of knowledge, has not time to subdue his
   passions, establish his soul in virtue, and come up to the perfection
   of his nature, before he is hurried off the stage. Would an infinitely
   wise Being make such glorious creatures for so mean a purpose? Can he
   delight in the production of such abortive intelligences, such
   short-lived reasonable beings? Would he give us talents that are not to
   be exerted? Capacities that are never to be gratified? How can we find
   that wisdom, which shines through all his works, in the formation of
   man, without looking on this world as only a nursery for the next, and
   believing that the several generations of rational creatures, which
   rise up and disappear in such quick successions, are only to receive
   their first rudiments of existence here, and afterwards to be
   transplanted into a more friendly climate, where they may spread and
   flourish to all eternity?

   There is not, in my opinion, a more pleasing and triumphant
   consideration in religion than this, of the perpetual progress which
   the soul makes towards the perfection of its nature, without ever
   arriving at a period in it. To look upon the soul as going on from
   strength to strength, to consider that she is to shine for ever with
   new accessions of glory, and brighten to all eternity; that she will be
   still adding virtue to virtue, and knowledge to knowledge; carries in
   it something wonderfully agreeable to that ambition which is natural to
   the mind of man. Nay, it must be a prospect pleasing to God himself, to
   see his creation for ever beautifying in his eyes, and drawing nearer
   to him, by greater degrees of resemblance.

   Methinks this single consideration, of the progress of a finite spirit
   to perfection, will be sufficient to extinguish all envy in inferior
   natures, and all contempt in superior. That cherubim, which now appears
   as a God to a human soul, knows very well, that the period will come
   about in eternity, when the human soul shall be as perfect as he
   himself now is: nay, when she shall look down upon that degree of
   perfection, as much as she now falls short of it. It is true, the
   higher nature still advances, and by that means preserves his distance
   and superiority in the scale of being: but be knows how high soever the
   station is, of which he stands possessed at present, the inferior
   nature will at length mount up to it, and shine forth in the same
   degree of glory.

   With what astonishment and veneration may we look into our own souls,
   where there are such hidden stores of virtue and knowledge, such
   inexhausted sources of perfection! We know not yet what we shall be,
   nor will it ever enter into the heart of man to conceive the glory that
   will be always in reserve for him. The soul, considered with its
   Creator, is like one of those mathematical lines that may draw nearer
   to another for all eternity, without a possibility of touching it: and
   can there be a thought so transporting as to consider ourselves in
   these perpetual approaches to him, who is not only the standard of
   perfection, but of happiness!
     __________________________________________________________________

   Nescio quomodo inhæret in mentibus quasi seculorum quoddam augurium
   fututorum; idque in maximis, ingeniis altissimisque animis existit
   maxime et apparet facillime.

   Cic. Tusc. Quæst.

   There is, I know not how, deeply imprinted in the minds of men a
   certain presage, as it were, of a future existence; and this takes the
   deepen root, and is most discoverable in the greatest geniuses and most
   elevated minds.

   To the SPECTATOR.

   Sir,

   "I AM fully persuaded, that one of the best springs of generous and
   worthy actions, is the having generous and worthy thoughts of
   ourselves. Whoever has a mean opinion of the dignity of his nature will
   act in no higher a rank than he has allotted himself in his own
   estimation. If he considers his being as circumscribed by the uncertain
   term of a few years, his designs will be contracted into the same
   narrow span he imagines is to bound his existence. How can he exalt his
   thoughts to any thing great and noble, who only believes that, after a
   short turn on the stage of this world, he is to sink into oblivion, and
   to lose his consciousness for ever?

   For this reason, I am of opinion that so useful and elevated a
   contemplation as that of the soul's immortality cannot be resumed too
   often. There is not a more improving exercise to the human mind than to
   be frequently reviving its own great privileges and endowments, nor a
   more effectual means to awaken in us an ambition raised above low
   objects and little pursuits, than to value ourselves as heirs of
   eternity.

   It is a very great satisfaction to consider the best and wisest of
   mankind in all nations and ages, asserting as with one voice this their
   birth-right, and to find it ratified by an express revelation. At the
   same time, if we turn our thoughts inward upon ourselves, we may meet
   with a kind of secret sense concurring with the proofs of our own
   immortality.

   You have in my opinion raised a good presumptive argument from the
   increasing appetite the mind has to knowledge, and to the extending its
   own faculties, which cannot be accomplished, as the more restrained
   perfection of lower creatures may in the limits of a short life. I
   think another probable conjecture may be raised from our appetite to
   duration itself, and from a reflection on our progress through the
   several stages of it. We are complaining, as you observe in a former
   speculation, of the shortness of life, and yet are perpetually hurrying
   over the parts of it, to arrive at certain little settlements, or
   imaginary points of rest, which are dispersed up and down in it.

   Now, let us consider what happens to us when we arrive at these
   imaginary points of rest. Do we stop our motion, and sit down satisfied
   in the settlement we have gained? or are we not removing the boundary,
   and marking out new points of rest, to which we press forward with the
   like eagerness, and which cease to be such as fast as we attain them?
   Our case is like that of a traveller upon the Alps, who should fancy
   that the top of the next hill must end his journey, because it
   terminates his prospect; but he no sooner arrives at it, than he sees
   new ground and other hills beyond it, and continues to travel on as
   before.

   This is so plainly every man's condition in life, that there is no one
   who has observed any thing but may observe, that as fast as his time
   wears away, his appetite to something future remains. The use therefore
   I would make of it is this, that since nature (as some love to express
   it) does nothing in vain; or, to speak properly, since the Author of
   our being has planted no wandering passion in it, no desire which has
   not its object, futurity is the proper object of the passion so
   constantly exercised about it; and this restlessness in the present,
   this assigning ourselves over to farther stages of duration, this
   successive grasping at something still to come, appears to me (whatever
   it may to others) as a kind of instinct, or natural symptom, which the
   mind of man has of its own immortality.

   I take it at the same time for granted, that the immortality of the
   soul is sufficiently established by other arguments: and if so, this
   appetite, which otherwise would be very unaccountable and absurd, seems
   very reasonable, and adds strength to the conclusion. But I am amazed
   when I consider there are creatures capable of thought, who, in spite
   of every argument, can form to themselves a sullen satisfaction in
   thinking otherwise. There is something so pitifully mean in the
   inverted ambition of that man who can hope for annihilation, and please
   himself to think that his whole fabric shall one day crumble into dust,
   and mix with the mass of inanimate beings; that it equally deserves our
   admiration and pity. The mystery of such men's unbelief is not hard to
   be penetrated; and indeed amounts to nothing more than a sordid hope
   that they shall not be immortal, because they dare not be so.

   This brings me back to my first observation, and gives me occasion to
   say further, that as worthy actions spring from worthy thoughts, so
   worthy thoughts are likewise the consequence of worthy actions: but the
   wretch who has degraded himself below the character of immortality, is
   very willing to resign his pretensions to it, and to substitute, in its
   room, a dark negative happiness in the extinction of his being.

   The admirable Shakespear has given us a very strong image of the
   unsupported condition of such a person in his last minutes in the
   second part of King Henry VI. where Cardinal Beaufort, who had been
   concerned in the murder of the good Duke Humphrey, is represented on
   his death-bed. After some short confused speeches, which shew an
   imagination disturbed with guilt, just as he is expiring, King Henry
   standing by him full of compassion, says,


   Lord Cardinal! if thou thinkest on heaven's bliss,

   Hold up thy hand, make signal of that hope!

   He dies, and makes no sign!

   The despair which is here shewn, without a word or action on the part
   of the dying person, is beyond what could he painted by the most
   forcible expressions whatever,

   I shall not pursue this thought further, but only add, that as
   annihilation is not to be had with a wish, so it is the most abject
   thing in the world to wish it. What are honour, fame, wealth, or power,
   when compared with the generous expectation of a being without end, and
   a happiness adequate to that being? I am,

   Sir,

   Your most obedient

   humble servant,

   T. D.

   To live in joyful hope becomes the wise.

   THE time present seldom affords sufficient employment to the mind of
   man. Objects of pain or pleasure, love or admiration, do not lie thick
   enough together in life to keep the soul in constant action and supply
   an immediate exercise to its faculties. In order therefore to remedy
   this defect, that the mind may not want business, but always have
   materials for thinking, she is endued with certain powers that can
   recal what is passed, and anticipate what is to come.

   That wonderful faculty which we call the memory is perpetually looking
   back, when we have nothing present to entertain us. It is like those
   repositories in several animals that are filled with stores of their
   former food, on which they may ruminate when their present pasture
   fails.

   As the memory relieves the mind in her vacant moments, and prevents any
   chasms of thought by ideas of what is past, we have other faculties
   that agitate and employ her upon what is to come. These are the
   passions of hope and fear.

   By these two passions we reach forward into futurity, and bring up to
   our present thoughts objects that lie hid in the remotest depths of
   time. We suffer misery and enjoy happiness before they are in being: we
   can set the sun and stars forward, or lose sight of them by wandering
   into those retired parts of eternity, when the heavens and earth shall
   be no more.

   By the way, who can imagine that the existence of a creature is to be
   circumscribed by time, whose thoughts are not? But I shall, in this
   paper, confine myself to that particular passion which goes by the name
   of hope.

   Our actual enjoyments are so few and transient, that man would be a
   very miserable being were he not endued with this passion, which gives
   him a taste of those good things that may possibly come into his
   possession. "We should hope for every thing that is good," says the old
   poet Linus, "because there is nothing which may not be hoped for, and
   nothing but what the gods are able to give us."

   Hope quickens all the still parts of life, and keeps the mind awake in
   her most remiss and indolent hours. It gives habitual serenity and good
   humour. It is a kind of vital heat in the soul that cheers and gladdens
   her, when he does not attend to it. It makes pain easy, and labour
   pleasant.

   Beside these several advantages which rise from hope, there is another
   which is none of the least, and that is, its great efficacy in
   preserving us from setting too high a value on present enjoyments. The
   saying of Cæsar is very well known. When he had given away all his
   estate in gratuities among his friends, one of them asked what he had
   left for himself? To which that great man replied, Hope. His natural
   magnanimity hindered him from prising what he was certainly possessed
   of, and turned all his thoughts upon something more valuable that he
   had in view. I question not but every reader will draw a moral from
   this story, and apply it to himself without my direction.

   The old story of Pandora's box (which many of the learned believe was
   formed among the Heathens upon the tradition of the fall of man) shews
   us how deplorable a state they thought the present life without hope.
   To set forth the utmost condition of misery, they tell us that our
   forefather, according to the Pagan theology, had a great vessel
   presented him by Pandora upon his lifting up the lid of it, says the
   fable, there flew out all the calamities and distempers incident to
   men, from which, till that time, they had been altogether exempt. Hope,
   who had been inclosed in the cup with so much bad company, instead of
   flying off with the rest, stuck so close to the lid of it that it was
   shut down upon her.

   I shall make but two reflections upon what I have hitherto said. First,
   that no kind of life is so happy as that which is full of hope,
   especially when the hope is well grounded, and when the object of it is
   of an exalted kind, and in its nature proper to make, the person happy
   who enjoys it. This proposition must be very evident to those who
   consider how few are the present enjoyments of the most happy man, and
   how insufficient to give him an entire satisfaction and acquiescence in
   them.

   My next observation is this, that a religious life is that which most
   abounds in a well-grounded hope, and such an one as is fixed on objects
   that are capable of making us entirely happy. This Hope in a religious
   man, is much more sure and certain than the hope of any temporal
   blessing, as it is strengthened not only by reason, but by faith. It
   has at the same time its eye perpetually fixed on that state, which
   implies, in the very notion of it, the most full and the most complete
   happiness.

   I have before shewn how the influence of hope in general sweetens life,
   and makes our present condition supportable, if not pleasing; but a
   religious hope has still greater advantages. It does not only bear up
   the mind under her sufferings, but makes her rejoice in them, as they
   may be the instruments of procuring her the great and ultimate end of
   all her hope.

   Religious hope has likewise this advantage above any other kind of
   hope, that it is able to revive the dying man, and to fill his mind not
   only with secret comfort and refreshment, but sometimes with rapture
   and transport. He triumphs in his agonies, whilst the soul springs
   forward with delight to the great object which she has always had in
   view, and leaves the body with an expectation of being reunited to her
   in a glorious and joyful resurrection.

   I shall conclude this essay with those emphatical expressions of a
   lively hope, which the Psalmist made use of in the midst of those
   dangers and adversities which surrounded him; for the following passage
   had its present and personal, as well as its future and prophetic
   sense. "I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right
   hand I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory
   rejoiceth; my flesh also shall rest in hope. For thou wilt not leave my
   soul in hell, neither wilt thou suffer thine holy one to see
   corruption. Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is
   fullness of joy, at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore."
     __________________________________________________________________

   For we are his offspring. Acts xvii. 28.

   To the SPECTATOR.

   Sir,

   IT has been usual to remind persons of rank, on great occasions in
   life, of their race and quality, and to what expectations they were
   born: that by considering what is worthy of them, they may be withdrawn
   from mean pursuits, and encouraged to laudable undertakings. This is
   turning nobility into a principle of virtue, and making it productive
   of merits, as it is understood to have been originally a reward of it.

   It is for the like reason, I imagine, that you have, in some of your
   speculations, asserted to your readers the dignity of human nature. But
   you cannot be insensible that this is a controverted doctrine; there
   are authors who consider human nature in a very different view, and
   books of maxims have been written to shew the falsity of all human
   virtues. The reflexions which are made on this subject usually take
   some tincture from the tempers and characters of those that make them.
   Politicians can resolve the most shining actions among men into
   artifice and design; others, who are soured by discontent, repulses, or
   ill usage, are apt to mistake their spleen for philosophy; men of
   profligate lives, and such as find themselves incapable of rising to
   any distinction among their fellow-creatures, are for pulling down all
   appearances of merit, which seem to upbraid them; and Satirists
   describe nothing but deformity. From all these hands we have such
   draughts of mankind as are represented in those burlesque pictures,
   which the Italians call Caracatures; where the art consists in
   preserving amidst distorted proportion and aggravated features, some
   distinguishing likeness of the person, but in such a manner as to
   transform the most agreeable beauty into the most odious monster.

   It is very disingenuous to level the best of mankind with the worst,
   and for the faults of particulars to degrade the whole species. Such
   methods tend not only to remove a man's good opinion of others, but to
   destroy that reverence for himself, which is a great guard of
   innocence, and a spring of virtue.

   It is true indeed, that there are surprising mixtures of beauty and
   deformity, of wisdom and folly, virtue and vice, in the human make;
   such a disparity is found among numbers of the same kind; and every
   individual, in some instances, or at some times, is so unequal to
   himself, that man seems to be the most wavering and inconsistent being
   in the whole creation. So that the question in morality, concerning the
   dignity of our nature, may at first sight appear like some difficult
   question in Natural Philosophy, in which the arguments on both sides
   seem to be of equal strength. But as I began with considering this
   point, as it relates to action, I shall here borrow an admirable
   reflection from Monsieur Pascal, which I think sets it in its proper
   light.

   It is of dangerous consequence, says he, to represent to man how near
   he is to the level of beasts, without shewing him at the same time his
   greatness. It is likewise dangerous to let him see his greatness
   without his meanness. It is more dangerous yet to leave him ignorant of
   either; but very beneficial that he should be made sensible of both.
   Whatever imperfections we may have in our nature, it is the business of
   religion and virtue to rectify them, as far as is consistent with our
   present state. In the mean time, it is no small encouragement to
   generous minds to consider that we shall put them all off with our
   mortality. That sublime manner of salutation with which the Jews
   approached their kings,

   O king, live for ever!

   may be addressed to the lowest and most despised mortal among us, under
   all the infirmities and distresses with which we see him surrounded.
   And whoever believes the immortality of the soul, will not need a
   better argument for the dignity of his nature, nor a stronger
   incitement to actions suitable to it.

   I am naturally led by this reflection to a subject I have already
   touched upon in a former letter, and cannot without pleasure call to
   mind the thoughts of Cicero, to this purpose, in the close of his book
   concerning old age. Every one who is acquainted with his writings will
   remember, that the elder Cato is introduced in that discourse as the
   speaker, and Scipio and Lelius as his auditors. This venerable person
   is represented looking forward as it were from the verge of extreme old
   age, into a future state, and rising into a contemplation on the
   unperishable part of his nature, and its existence after death. I shall
   collect part of his discourse; and, as you have formerly offered some
   arguments for the soul's immortality, agreeable both to reason and the
   Christian doctrine, 1 believe your readers will not be displeased to
   see how the same great truth shines in the pomp of Roman eloquence.

   "This, (says Cato,) is my firm persuasion, that since the human soul
   exerts itself with so great activity, since it has such a remembrance
   of the past, such a concern for the future; since it is enriched with
   so many arts, sciences, and discoveries, it is impossible but the being
   which contains all these must be immortal.

   The Elder Cyrus, just before his death, is represented by Xenophon
   speaking after this manner. Think not, my dearest children, that when I
   depart from you, I shall be no more, but remember, that my soul, even
   while I lived among you, was invisible to you; yet by my actions you
   were sensible it existed in this body. Believe it therefore existing
   still, though it be still unseen. How quickly would the honours of
   illustrious men perish after death, if their souls performed nothing to
   preserve their fame? For my, own part I could never think that the
   soul, which in a mortal body, lives: but when departed out of it, dies:
   or that its conscioulness is lost when it is discharged out of an
   unconscious habitation. But when it is freed from all corporeal
   alliance, then it truly exists. Further, since the human frame is
   broken by death, tell us what becomes of its parts? It is visible where
   the materials of other beings are translated, namely, to the source
   from whence they had their birth. The soul alone, either present or
   departed, is not the object of our eyes.

   Thus Cyrus. But to proceed. No one shall persuade me, Scipio, that your
   worthy father, or your grandfathers, Paulus and Africanus, or
   Africanus' father, or uncle, or many other excellent men whom I need
   not name, performed so many actions to be remembered by posterity,
   without being sensible that futurity was their right. And, if I may be
   allowed an old man's privilege, to speak of myself, do you think I
   would have endured the fatigue of so many wearisome days and nights,
   both at home and abroad, if I imagined that the same boundary which is
   set to my life must terminate my glory! Were it not more desirable to
   have worn out my days in ease and tranquility, free from labour and
   without emulation? but I know not how, my soul has always raised
   itself, and looked forward on futurity, in this view and expectation,
   that when it shall depart out of life; it shall then live for ever; and
   if this were not true, that the mind is immortal, the souls of the most
   worthy would not, above all others, have the strongest impulse to
   glory.

   What besides this is the cause that the wisest men die with the
   greatest equanimity, the ignorant with the greaten concern? Does it not
   seem, that those minds which have the most extensive views, foresee
   they are removing to a happier condition, which those of a narrower
   sight do not perceive! 1, for my part, am transported with the hope of
   seeing your ancestors, whom I have honoured and loved, and am earnestly
   desirous of meeting not only those excellent persons whom I have known,
   but those too of whom I have heard and read, and of whom I myself have
   written; nor would I be detained from so pleasing a journey. O happy
   day! when I final escape from this croud, this heap of pollution, and
   be admitted to that divine assembly of exalted spirits! when I shall go
   not only to those great persons I have named, but to my Cato, my son,
   than whom a better man was never born; and whose funeral rites I myself
   performed, whereas he ought rather to have attended mine. Yet has not
   his soul deserted me, but seeming to call back a look on me, is gone
   before to those habitations to which it was sensible I should follow
   him. And though I might appear to have borne my loss with courage, I
   was not unaffected with it, but I comforted myself in the assurance
   that it would not be long before we should meet again, and be divorced
   no more."

   I am, Sir, &c.

   --Nec morti esse locum--Virg. Geog. IV. v. 262.

   No room is left for death. Dryden.

   A LEWD young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him barefooted,
   "Father," says he, "you are in a very miserable condition if there is
   not another world." True son said the hermit; "but what is thy
   condition if there is?" Man is a creature designed for two different
   states of being, or rather for two different lives. His first life is
   short and transient; his second permanent and lasting. The question we
   are all concerned in is this: In which of these two lives is it our
   chief interest to make ourselves happy? Or, in other words, Whether we
   should endeavour to secure to ourselves the pleasures and
   gratifications of a life which is uncertain and precarious, and at its
   utmost length of a very inconsiderable duration; or to secure to
   ourselves the pleasures of a life which is fixed and settled, and will
   never end? Every man, upon the first hearing of this question knows
   very well which side of it he ought to close with. But however right we
   are in theory, it is plain that in practice we adhere to the wrong side
   of the question. We make provisions for this life, as though it were
   never to have an end, and for the other life, as though it were never
   to have a beginning.

   Should a spirit of superior rank, who is a stranger to human nature,
   accidentally alight upon the earth, and take a survey of its
   inhabitants, what would his notions of us be? Would not he think that
   we are a species of beings made for quite different ends and purposes
   than what we really are? Must not he imagine that we were placed in
   this world to get riches and honours? Would not he think that it was
   our duty to toil after wealth, and station, and title? Nay, would not
   he believe we were forbidden poverty by threats of eternal punishment,
   and enjoined to pursue our pleasures under pain of damnation! He would
   certainly imagine that we were influenced by a scheme of duties quite
   opposite to those which are indeed prescribed to us. And truly,
   according to such an imagination, he must conclude that we are a
   species of the most obedient creatures in the universe; that we are
   constant to our duty, and that we keep a steady eye on the end for
   which we were sent hither.

   But how great would be his astonishment, when he learned that we were
   beings not designed to exist in this world above threescore and ten
   years? and that the greatest part of this busy species fall short even
   of that age? How would he be lost in horror and admiration, when he
   should know that this set of creatures, who lay out all their
   endeavours for this life, which scarce deserves the name of existence;
   when, I say, he should know that this set of creatures are to exist to
   all eternity in another life, for which they make no preparations?
   Nothing can be a greater disgrace to reason than that men, who are
   persuaded of these two different states of being, should be perpetually
   employed in providing for a life of threescore and ten years, and
   neglecting to make provision for that which, after many myriads of
   years, will be still new, and still beginning; especially when we
   consider that our endeavours for making ourselves great, or rich, or
   honourable, or whatever else we place our happiness in, may, after all,
   prove unsuccessful; whereas, if we constantly and sincerely endeavour
   to make ourselves happy In the other life, we are sure that our
   endeavours will succeed, and that we shall not be disappointed in our
   hope.

   The following question is started by one of the schoolmen. Supposing
   the whole body of the earth were a great ball or mass of the finest
   sand, and that a single grain or particle of this sand should be
   annihilated every thousand years; supposing then that you had it in
   your choice to be happy all the while this prodigious mass of sand was
   Consuming by this slow method till there was not a grain of it left, on
   condition you were to be miserable for ever after; or supposing that
   you might be happy for ever after, on condition you would be miserable
   till the whole mass of sand were thus annihilated at the rate of one
   sand in a thouand years: which of these two cases would you make your
   choice?

   It must be confessed in this case, so many thousands of years are to
   the imagination as a kind of eternity, though in reality they do not
   bear so great a proportion to that duration which is to follow them, as
   an unit does to the greatest number which you can put together in
   figures, or as one of those sands to the supposed heap. Reason
   therefore tells us, without any manner of hesitation, which would be
   the better part in this choice. However, as I have before intimated,
   our reason might in such a case be so overset by the imagination, as to
   dispose some persons to sink under the consideration of the great
   length of the first part of this duration, and of the great distance of
   that second duration which is to succeed it. The mind, I say, might
   give itself up to that happiness which is at hand, considering that it
   is so very near, and that it would last very long. But when the choice
   we actually have before us, is this, whether we will chuse to be happy
   for the space only of threescore and ten, nay, perhaps of only twenty
   or ten years, I might say of only a day or an hour, and miserable to
   all eternity; or, on the contrary, miserable for this short term of
   years, and happy for a whole eternity; what words are sufficient to
   express that folly and want of consideration, which, in such a case,
   makes a wrong choice?

   1 here put the case even at the worst, by supposing what seldom
   happens, that a course of virtue makes us miserable in this life; but
   if we suppose, as it generally happens, that virtue would make us more
   happy even in this life than a contrary course of vice; how can we
   sufficiently admire the stupidity or madness of those persons who are
   capable of making so absurd a choice?

   Every wise man therefore will consider this life only as it may conduce
   to the happiness of the other, and cheerfully sacrifice the pleasures
   of a few years to those of an eternity.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Sentio te sedem hominum ac domum contemplari, quæ si tibi parva (ut
   est) ita videtur, hæc coelestia semper spectato; illa humana
   contemnito.

   Cic. Somn. Scip.

   I understand, you contemplate the abode and habitation of men; which if
   it seem so small to you, as indeed it is, direct your views continually
   to heavenly objects, and contemn those that are earthly.

   THE following essay comes from the ingenious author of the letter upon
   novelty, printed in a late Spectator; the notions are drawn from the
   Platonic way of thinking, but as they contribute to raise the mind, and
   may inspire noble sentiments of our own future grandeur and happiness,
   I think it well deserves to be presented to the public.

   "If the universe be the creature of an intelligent mind, this mind
   could have no immediate regard to himself in producing it. He needed
   not to make trial of his omnipotence, to be informed what effects were
   within its reach; the world, as existing in his eternal idea, was then
   as beautiful as now it is drawn forth into being; and in the immense
   abyss of his essence are contained far brighter scenes than will be
   ever set forth to view; it being impossible that the great author of
   nature should bound his power by giving existence to a system of
   creatures so perfect, that he cannot improve upon it by any other
   exertions of his almighty will. Between finite and infinite there is an
   unmeasured interval, not to be filled up in endless ages; for which
   reason, the most excellent of God's works must be equally short of what
   his power is able to produce, as the most imperfect, and may be
   exceeded with the same ease.

   This thought hath made some imagine, (what, it must be confessed, is
   not impossible,) that the unfathomed space is ever teeming with new
   births, the younger still inheriting a greater perfection than the
   elder. But, as this doth not fall within my present view, I shall
   content myself, with taking notice, that the consideration now
   mentioned proves undeniably, that the ideal worlds in the divine
   understanding yield a prospect incomparably more ample, various and
   delightful than any created world can do; and that therefore, as it is
   not to be supposed that God should make a world merely of inanimate
   matter, however diversified or inhabited only by creatures of no higher
   an order than brutes; so the end for which he designed his reasonable
   offspring, is the contemplation of his works, the enjoyment of himself,
   and in both to be happy, having, to this purpose, endued them with
   correspondent faculties and desires. He can have no greater pleasure
   from a bare review of his works, than from the survey of his own ideas,
   but we may be assured that he is well pleased in the satisfaction
   derived to beings capable of it, and, for whose entertainment, he hath
   erected this immense theatre. Is not this more than an intimation of
   our immortality? Man, who when considered as on his probation for a
   happy existence hereafter, is the most remarkable instance of divine
   wisdom: if we cut him off from all relation to eternity, is the most
   wonderful and unaccountable composition in the whole creation. He hath
   capacities to lodge a much greater variety of knowledge than he will be
   ever master of, and an unsatisfied curiosity to tread the secret paths
   of nature and providence; but, with this, his organs, in their present
   structure, are rather fitted to serve the necessities of a vile body,
   than to minister to his understanding and, from the little spot to
   which he is chained, he can frame but wandering guesses concerning the
   innumerable worlds of light that encompass him, which, though in
   themselves of a prodigious bigness, do but just glimmer in the remote
   spaces of the heavens: and when, with a great deal of time and pains,
   he hath laboured a little way up the steep ascent of truth, and beholds
   with pity the grovelling multitude beneath, in a moment his foot
   slides, and he tumbles down headlong into the grave.

   Thinking on this, I am obliged to believe, in justice to the Creator of
   the world, that there is another state when man shall be better
   situated for contemplation, or rather have it in his power to remove
   from object to object, and from world to world: and be accommodated
   with senses, and other helps, for making the quickest and most amazing
   discoveries. How does such a genius as Sir Isaac Newton, from amidst
   the darkness that involves human understanding, break forth, and appear
   like one of another species! The vast machine, we inhabit, lies open to
   him, he seems not unacquainted with the general laws that govern it;
   and while with the transport of a philosopher he beholds and admires
   the glorious work, he is capable of paying at once a more devout and
   more rational homage to his maker. But alas! how narrow is the prospect
   even of such a mind? and how obscure to the compass that is taken in by
   the ken of an angel: or of a soul but newly escaped from its
   imprisonment in the body! For my part, I freely indulge my soul in the
   confidence of its future grandeur; it pleases me to think that I, who
   know so small a portion of the works of the Creator, and with slow and
   painful steps creep up and down on the surface of this globe, shall ere
   long shoot away with the swiftness of imagination, trace out the hidden
   springs of nature's operation, be able to keep pace with the heavenly
   bodies in the rapidity of their career, be a spectator of the long
   chain of events in the natural and moral worlds, visit the several
   apartments of the creation, know how they are furnished and how
   inhabited, comprehend the order, and measure the magnitudes. and
   distances of those orbs, which to us seem disposed without any regular
   design, and set all in the same circle; observe the dependence of the
   parts of each system, and, if our minds are big enough, to grasp the
   theory of the several systems upon one another, from whence results the
   harmony of the universe. In eternity a great deal may be done of this
   kind. I find it of use to cherish this generous ambition; for besides
   the secret refreshment it diffuses through my soul, it engages me in an
   endeavour to improve my faculties, as well as to exercise them
   conformably to the rank I now hold among reasonable beings, and the
   hope I have of being once advanced to a more exalted station.

   The other, and that the ultimate end of man, is the enjoyment of God,
   beyond which he cannot form a wish. Dim at best are the conceptions we
   have of the Supreme Being, who, as it were, keeps his creatures in
   suspense, neither discovering, nor hiding himself; by which means the
   Libertine hath a handle to dispute his existence, while the most are
   content to speak him fair, but in their hearts prefer every trifling
   satisfaction to the favour of their Maker, and ridicule the good man
   for the singularity of his choice. Will there not a time come, when the
   Free-thinker shall see his impious schemes overturned, and be made a
   convert to the truths he hates; when deluded mortals shall be convinced
   of the folly of their pursuits, and the few wise who followed the
   guidance of heaven, and, scorning the blandishments of sense and the
   sordid bribes of the world, aspired to a celestial abode, shall stand
   possessed of their utmost wish in the vision of the Creator? Here the
   mind heaves a thought now and then towards him, and hath some transient
   glances of his pretence: when in the instant it thinks itself to have
   the fastest hold, the object eludes its expectations, and it falls back
   tired and baffled to the ground. Doubtless there is some more perfect
   way of conversing with heavenly beings. Are not spirits capable of
   mutual intelligence, unless immersed in bodies, or by their
   intervention? Must superior natures depend on inferior for the main
   privilege of sociable beings, that of conversing with, and knowing each
   other? What would they have done, had matter never been created? I
   suppose, not have lived in eternal solitude. As incorporeal substances
   are of a nobler order, so be sure, their manner of intercourse is
   answerably more expedite and intimate. This method of communication we
   call intellectual vision, as somewhat analogous to the sense of seeing,
   which is the medium of our acquaintance with this visible world. And in
   some such way can God make himself the object of immediate intuition to
   the blessed; and as he can, it is not improbable that he will, always
   condescending, in the circumstances of doing it, to the weakness and
   proportion of finite minds. His works but faintly reflect the image of
   his perfections, it is a secondhand knowledge; to have a just idea of
   him, it may be necessary that we see him as he is. But what is that? It
   is something that never entered into the heart of man to conceive; yet,
   what we can easily conceive, will be a fountain of unspeakable, of
   everlasting rapture. All created glories will fade and die away in his
   presence. Perhaps it will be my happiness to compare the world with the
   fair exemplar of it in the divine mind! perhaps to view the original
   plan of those wise designs that have been executing in a long
   succession of ages. Thus employed in finding out his works, and
   contemplating their author, how shall I fall prostrate and adoring, my
   body swallowed up in the immensity of matter, my mind in the infinitude
   of his perfections!"

   Multa putans, sortemque animo miseratus iniquam. Virg. Æneid. VI. v.
   332.


   Revolving in his breast their fate unkind,

   A gen'rous pity fills his pious mind.

   IN compassion to those gloomy mortals, who by their unbelief are
   rendered incapable of feeling those impressions of joy and hope, which
   the celebration of the late glorious Easter festival naturally leaves
   on the mind of a Christian, I shall in this paper endeavour to evince
   that there are grounds to expect a future state, without supposing in
   the reader any faith at all, not even the belief of a Deity. Let the
   most stedfast unbeliever open his eyes, and take a survey of the
   sensible world, and then say, if there be not a connexion and
   adjustment, an exact and constant order discoverable in all the parts
   of it. Whatever be the cause, the thing itself is evident to all our
   faculties. Look into the animal system, the passions, senses, and
   locomotive powers, is not the like contrivance and propriety observable
   these too! Are they not fitted to certain ends, and are they not by
   nature directed to proper objects?

   Is it possible then that the smallest bodies should, by a management
   superior to the wit of man, be disposed, in the most excellent manner,
   agreeable to their respective natures; and yet the spirits or souls of
   men be neglected, or managed by such rules as fall short of man's
   understanding? Shall every other passion be rightly placed by nature,
   and shall that appetite of immortality, natural to all mankind, be
   alone misplaced, or designed to be frustrated? Shall the industrious
   application of the inferior animal powers in the meanest vocations be
   answered by the ends we propose, and shall not the generous efforts of
   a virtuous mind be rewarded! In a word, shall the corporeal world be
   all order and harmony, the intellectual discord and confusion? He, who
   is bigot enough to believe these things, must bid adieu to that natural
   rule of reasoning from analogy; must run counter to that maxim of
   common sense, that men ought to form their judgments of things
   unexperienced from what they have experienced.

   If any thing looks like a recompence of calamitious virtue on this side
   the grave, it s either an assurance that thereby we obtain the favour
   and protection of Heaven, and shall, whatever befals us in this, in
   another life meet with a just return, or else that applause and
   reputation, which is thought to attend virtuous actions. The former of
   these, our Free-thinkers, out of their singular wisdom and benevolence
   to mankind, endeavour to erase from the minds of men. The latter can
   never be justly distributed in this life, where so many ill actions are
   reputable, and so many good actions disesteemed or misinterpreted;
   where subtile hypocrisy is placed in the most engaging light, and
   modest virtue lies concealed; where the heart and the soul are hid from
   the eyes of men, and the eyes of men are dimmed and vitiated. Plato's
   sense in relation to this point is contained in his Gorgias, where he
   introduces Socrates speaking after this manner:

   "It was in the reign of Saturn provided by a law, which the gods have
   since continued down to this time, that they who had lived virtuously
   and piously upon earth, should after death enjoy a life full of
   happiness, in certain islands appointed for the habitation of the
   blessed; but that such as had lived wickedly should go into the
   receptacle of damned souls, namely Tartarus, there to suffer the
   punishments they deserved. But in all the reign of Saturn, and in the
   beginning of the reign of Jove, living judges were appointed, by whom
   each person was judged in his lifetime in the same day on which he was
   to die. The consequence of which was, that they often passed wrong
   judgments. Pluto, therefore, who presided in Tartarus, and the
   guardians of the blessed islands, finding that, on the other side, many
   unfit persons were sent to their respective dominions, complained to
   Jove, who promised to redress the evil. He added, the reason of these
   unjust proceedings is that men are judged in the body. Hence many
   conceal the blemishes and imperfections of their minds by beauty, birth
   and riches; not to mention, that at the time of trial there are crouds
   of witnesses to attest their having lived well. These things mislead
   the judges, who being themselves also of the number of the living are
   surrounded each with his own body, as with a veil thrown over his mind.
   For the future, therefore, it is my intention that men do not come on
   their trial till after death, when they shall appear before the judge,
   disrobed of all their corporeal ornaments. The judge himself too shall
   be a pure unveiled spirit, beholding the very soul, the naked soul, of
   the party before him. With this view I have already constituted my
   sons, Minos and Radamanthus, judges, who are natives of Asia and Æacus,
   a native of Europe. These, after death, shall hold their court in a
   certain meadow, from which there are two roads, leading the one to
   Tartarus, the other to the islands of the blessed."

   From this, as from numberless other passages of his writings, may be
   seen Plato's opinion of a future date. A thing therefore in regard to
   us so comfortable, in itself so just and excellent, a thing so
   agreeable to the analogy of nature, and so universally credited by all
   orders and ranks of men, of all nations and ages, what is it that
   should move a few men to reject? Surely there must be something of
   prejudice in the case. I appeal to the secret thoughts of a
   Free-thinker, if he does not argue within himself after this manner:
   The senses and faculties I enjoy at present are visibly designed to
   repair, or preserve the body from the injuries it is liable to in its
   present circumstances. But in an eternal state, where no decays are to
   be repaired, no outward injuries to be fenced against, where there are
   no flesh and bones, nerves, or blood vessels, there will certainly be
   none of the senses; and that there should be a state of life without
   the senses it is inconceivable.

   But as this manner of reasoning proceeds from a poverty of imagination,
   and narrowness of soul in those that use it, I shall endeavour to
   remedy those defects, and open their views, by laying before them a
   case which, being naturally possible, may perhaps reconcile them to the
   belief of what is supernaturally revealed.

   Let us suppose a man blind and deaf from his birth, who being grown to
   a man's estate, is by the dead palsy, or some other cause, deprived of
   his feeling, tasting, and smelling; and at the same time has the
   impediment of his hearing removed, and the film taken from his eyes:
   what the five senses are to us, that the touch, taste, and smell were
   to him. And any other ways of perception of a more refined and
   extensive nature were to him as inconceivable, as to us those are,
   which will one day be adapted to perceive those things which "eye hath
   not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man
   to conceive." And it would be just as reasonable in him to conclude,
   that the loss of those three senses could not possibly be succeeded by
   any new inlets of perception; as in a modern Free-thinker to imagine
   there can be no state of life and perception without the senses he
   enjoys at present. Let us further suppose the same person's eyes, at
   their first opening, to be struck with a great variety of the most gay
   and pleasing objects, and his ears with a melodious concert of vocal
   and instrumental music: behold him amazed, ravished, transported and
   you have same distant representation, same faint and glimmering idea of
   the ecstatic state of the soul in that article in which she emerges
   from this sepulchre of flesh into life and immortality.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Labitur et labetur in omne volubilus avum.

   Hor. epost. II. I. 1. v. 43.

   It glides, and will for ever glide along.

   Mr. Spectator,

   THERE are none of your speculations which please me more than those
   upon infinitude and eternity. You have already considered that part of
   eternity which is past; and I wish you would give us your thoughts upon
   that which is to come.

   Your readers will perhaps receive greater pleasure from this view of
   eternity than the former, since we have every one of us a concern in
   that which is to come; whereas a speculation on that which is past is
   rather curious than useful.

   Besides, we can easily conceive it possible for successive duration
   never to have an end though, as you have justly observed, that eternity
   which never had a beginning is altogether incomprehensible; that is, we
   can conceive an eternal duration which may be, though we cannot an
   eternal duration which hath been; or, if I may use the philosophical
   terms, we may apprehend a potential, though not an actual eternity.

   This notion of a future eternity, which is natural to the mind of man,
   is an unanswerable argument that he is a being designed for it:
   especially if we consider that he is capable of being virtuous or
   vicious here; that he hath faculties improvable to all eternity; and,
   by a proper or wrong employment of them, may be happy or miserable
   throughout that infinite duration. Our idea indeed of this eternity is
   not of an adequate or fixed nature, but is perpetually growing and
   enlarging itself towards the object, which is too big for human
   comprehension. As we are now in the beginning of existence, so shall we
   always appear to ourselves as if we were for ever entering upon it.
   After a million or two of centuries, some considerable things already
   past may slip out of our memory, which, if it be not strengthened in a
   wonderful manner, may possibly forget that ever there was a sun or
   planets, and yet notwithstanding the long race that we shall then have
   run, we shall still imagine ourselves just starting from the goal, and
   find no proportion between that space which we know had a beginning,
   and what we are sure will never have an end.

   But I shall leave this subject to your management, and question not but
   you will throw it into such lights as shall at once improve and
   entertain your reader.

   I have, inclosed, sent you. a translation of the speech of Cato on this
   occasion, which hath accidentally fallen into my hands, and which, for
   conciseness, purity, and elegance of phrase, cannot be sufficiently
   admired.

   ACT. V. SCENE I.

   CATO solus, &c.

   SIC, sic se habere rem necesse prorsus est,
   Ratione vincis, do lubens manus, Plato.
   Quid enim dedisset. Qua dedit frusta nihil,
   Æternitatis insitam cupidinem
   Natura? Quorsum hæc duelis expectatio;
   Vitæque non explenda melioris sitis?
   Quid vult sibi aliud iste redeundi in nihil
   Horror, sub imis quemque agens præcordiis?
   Cur terita in se refugit anima, cur tremit
   Attonita, quoties, morte ne pareat, timet?
   Particula nempe est cuique nascenti indita
   Divinior; quæ corpus incolens agit;
   Hominique, succinit, tua est Æternitas.
   Æternitas! O lubricum nimis aspici,
   Mixtumque dulci gaudium formidine!

   Quæ demigrabitu alia hinc in corpora?
   Quæ terra mox incognita? Quis orbis novus,
   Manet incolendus? Quanta erit mutatio?
   Hæc intuenti spatia mihi quaqua patent
   Immensa: sed calignosa nox premit;
   Nec luce clara vult videra frugula.
   Figendus his pes; certa sunt hæc hactenus:
   Si quod gubernet numen humanum genus,
   (At, quod gubernet, esse clamant omnia)
   Virtute non gaudere certe non potest:
   Nec esse non beata, qua gaudet potest
   Sed qua beata sede? Quove in tempore?
   Hæc quanta quanta terra, tota est Cæsaris.
   Quid dubius hæret animus usque adeo? Brevi
   Hic nodum hic omnem expediet. Arma en imduor.

   [Ensi manum admovens.

   In utramque partem facta; quæque vim inserant,
   Et quæ propulsent? Dextera intentat necem
   Vitam sinistra: vulnus hÆc dabit manus:
   Altera medelam vulneris; hic ad exitum
   Deducet, ictu simplici; hæc vetant mori.
   Secura ridet anima mucronis minas,
   Ensesque strictos, interire nescia.
   Extinguet ætas sidera diuturnior:
   Ætate languens ipse sol obscurius
   Emittet orbi consenescenti jubar:
   Natura et ipsa sentiet quondam vices
   Ætatis; annis ipsa deficiet gravis;
   At tibi juventus, at tibi immortalita;
   Tibi parta divum est vita. Periment mutuis
   Elementa sese et interibunt ictibus:
   Tu permanibis sola semper integra,
   Tu cunctu rerum quassa cuncta naufraga,
   Jum portu in ipso tuta, contemplabere.
   Compage rupta, corruent in se invicem,
   Orbesque fractic ingerentur orbibus;
   Illæsa tu sedebis extra fragmina.

   ACT. V. SCENE I.

   CATO alone, &c.

   IT must be so--Plato, thou reason'st well--
   Else whence this pleasinng hope, this fond desire,
   This longing after immortality?
   Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
   Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
   Back on herself and startles at destruction?
   'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
   'Tis heav'n itself that points out an hereafter,
   And intimates eternity to man.
   Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!

   Through what variety of untri'd being,
   Through what new scenes and changes must we pass?
   The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me;
   But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
   Here will I hold. If there's a pow'r above us,
   (And that there is, all nature cries aloud
   Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue;
   And that which he delights in must be happy.
   But when! or where!--This world was made for Caesar.
   I'm weary of conjectures.--This must end em.

   But in all these schemes there is something gross and improbable that
   shocks a reasonable and speculative mind; whereas nothing can be more
   rational and sublime than the Christian idea of a future state. Eye
   hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered, into the heart
   of man to conceive the things which God hath prepared for those that
   love him. The above mentioned schemes are narrow transcripts of our
   present state: but in this indefinite description there is something
   ineffably great and noble. The mind of man must be raised to a higher
   pitch, not only to partake the enjoyments of the Christian paradise,
   but even to be able to frame any notion of them.

   Nevertheless, in order to gratify our imagination, and by way of
   condescension to our low way of thinking, the ideas of light, glory, a
   crown, &c. are made use of to adumbrate that which we cannot directly
   understand. "The Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed
   them, and shall lead them into living fountains of waters: and God than
   wipe away all tears from their eyes. And there shall be no more death,
   neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for
   the former things are passed away, and behold all things are new. There
   shall be no night there, and they need no candle, neither light of the
   sun for the Lord God giveth them light, and shall make them drink of
   the river of his pleasures: and they shall reign for ever and ever.
   They shall receive a crown of glory which fadeth not away."

   These are cheering reflections: and I have often wondered that men
   could be found so dull and phlegmatic, as to prefer the thought of
   annihilation before them, or so ill-natured as to endeavour to persuade
   mankind to the disbelief of what is so pleasing and profitable even in
   the prospect; or so blind as not to see that there is a Deity, and if
   there be, that this scheme of things flows from his attributes, and
   evidently corresponds with the other parts of his creation.

   I know not how to account for this absurd turn of thought, except it
   proceed from a want of other employment, joined with an affectation of
   singularity. I shall therefore, inform our modern Free-thinkers of two
   points, whereof they seem to be ignorant. The first is, that it is not
   the being singular, but being singular for something that argues either
   extraordinary endowments of nature, or benevolent intententions to
   mankind, which draws the admiration and esteem of the world. A mistake
   in this point naturally arises from that confusion of thought which I
   do not remember to have seen so great instances of in any writers, as
   in certain modern Free-thinkers.

   The other point is, that there are innumerable objects within the reach
   of a human mind, and each of these objects may be viewed in innumerable
   lights and positions, and the relations arising between them are
   innumerable. There is, therefore, an infinity of things whereon to
   employ their thoughts, if not with advantage to the world, at least
   with amusement to themselves, and without offence or prejudice to other
   people. If they proceed to exert their talent of Free-thinking in this
   way, they may be innocently dull, and no one take any notice of it. But
   to see men without either wit or argument pretend to run down divine
   and human laws, and treat their fellow-subjects with contempt for
   professing a belief of those points on which the present as well as
   future interest of mankind depends, is not to be endured. For my own
   part, I shall omit no endeavours, to render their persons as
   despicable, and their practices as odious, in the eye of the world, as
   they deserve.
     __________________________________________________________________

   --Solemque suum, seu sidera norunt.

   Virg. Ænid. VI. v. 641.

   Stars of their own, and their own suns they know.

   Dryden.

   I HAVE already taken a particular pleasure in examining the opinions
   which men of different religions, different ages, and different
   countries, have entertained concerning the immortality of the soul, and
   the state of happiness, which they promise themselves in another world.
   For whatever prejudices and errors human nature lies under, we find
   that either reason, or tradition from our first parents, has discovered
   to all people something in these great points which bears analogy to
   truth, and to the doctrines opened to us by divine revelation. I was
   lately discoursing on this subject with a learned person, who has been
   very much convertsant among the inhabitants of the more western parts
   of Afric. Upon his conversing with several in that country, he tells me
   that their notion of heaven, or of a future state of happiness, is
   this, that every thing we there wish for will immediately present
   itself to us. We find, say they, our souls are of such a nature that
   they require variety, and are not capable of being always delighted
   with the same objects. The Supreme Being, therefore, in compliancy:
   with this taste of happiness which he has planted in the soul of man,
   will rise up, from time to time, say they, every gratification which it
   in the humour to be pleased with. If we wish to be in groves or bowers,
   among running streams or falls of water, we shall immediately find
   ourselves in the midst of such a scene as we desire. If we would be
   entertained with music and the melody of sounds, the concert arises
   upon our wish, and the whole region about us is filled with harmony. In
   short, every desire will be followed by fruition, and whatever a man's
   inclination directs him to, will be present with him. Nor is it
   material, whether the Supreme Power creates in conformity to our
   wishes, or whether he only produces such a change in our imagination,
   as makes us believe ourselves conversant among those scenes which
   delight us. Our happiness will be the same, whether it proceed from
   external objects, or from the impressions of the Deity upon our own
   private fancies. This is the account which I have received from my
   learned friend. Notwithstanding this system of belief be in general
   very chimerical and visionary, there is something sublime in its manner
   of considering the influence of a divine Being on a human soul. It has
   also, like most other opinions of the Heathen world, upon these
   important points; it has, I say, its foundation in truth, as it
   supposes the souls of good men, after this life, to be in a state of
   perfect happiness; that in this state there will be no barren hopes, no
   fruitless wishes; and that we shall enjoy every thing we can desire.
   But the particular circumstance which I am must pleased with in this
   scheme, and which arises from a just reflection upon human nature, is
   that variety of pleasures which it supposes the souls of good men will
   be possessed of in another world. This I think highly probable, from
   the dictates both of reason and revelation. The soul consists of many
   faculties, as the understanding and the will, with all the senses, both
   outward and inward; or, to speak more philosophically, the soul can
   exert herself in many different ways of action. She can understand,
   will, imagine, see, and hear, love, and discourse, and apply herself to
   many other of the like exercises of different kinds and natures but
   what is more to be considered, the soul is capable of receiving a most
   exquisite pleasure and satisfaction from the exercise of any of these
   its powers, when they are gratified with their proper objects: she can
   be entirely happy by the satisfaction of the memory, the sight, the
   hearing, or any other mode of perception. Every faculty is as a
   distinct state in the mind, and hath objects accommodated to its proper
   relish. Dr. Tillotson somewhere says, that he will not presume to
   determine in what consists the happiness of the blessed. Because God
   Almighty is capable of making the soul happy by ten thousand different
   ways. Besides those several avenues to pleasure which the soul is
   endued with in this life, it is not impossible, according to the
   opinions of many eminent divines, but there may be new faculties in the
   souls of good men made perfect, as well as new senses in their
   glorified bodies. This we are sure of, that there will be new objects
   offered to all those faculties which are essential to us.

   We are likewise to take notice, that every particular faculty is
   capable of being employed on a very great variety of objects. The
   understanding, for example, may be happy in the contemplation of moral,
   natural, mathematical, and other kinds of truth. The memory likewise
   may turn itself to an infinite multitude of objects, especially when
   the soul shall have passed through the space of many millions of years,
   and shall reflect with pleasure on the days of eternity. Every other
   faculty may be considered in the same extent.

   We cannot question but that the happiness of a soul will be adequate to
   its nature, and that it is not endued with any faculties which are to
   lie useless and unemployed. The happiness is to be the happiness of the
   whole man and we may easily conceive to ourselves the happiness of the
   soul, while any one of its faculties is in the fruition of its chief
   good. The happiness may be of a more exalted nature, in proportion as
   the faculty employed is so; but as the whole soul acts in the exertion
   of any of its particular powers, the whole soul is happy in the
   pleasure which arises from any of its particular acts. For
   notwithstanding, as has been before hinted, and as it has been taken
   notice of by one of the greater modern philosophers, we divide the soul
   into several powers and faculties, there is no such division in the
   soul itself, since it is the whole soul that remembers, understands,
   wills, or imagines.

   Our manner of considering the memory, understanding, will, imagination,
   and the like faculties, is for the better enabling us to express
   ourselves in such abstracted subjects of speculation, not that there is
   any such division in the soul itself.

   Seeing then that the soul has many different faculties, or, in other
   words, many different ways of acting; that it can be intensely pleased,
   or made happy by all these different faculties, or ways of acting; that
   it may be endued with several latent faculties, which it is not at
   present in a condition to exert: that we cannot believe the soul is
   endued with any faculty which is of no use to it; that whenever any one
   of these faculties is transcendently pleased, the soul is in a state of
   happiness; and, in the last place, considering that the happiness of
   another world is to be the happiness of the whole man, who can question
   but that there is an infinite variety in those pleasures we are
   speaking of; and that this fullness of joy will be made up of all those
   pleasures which the nature of the soul is capable of receiving.

   We shall be the more confirmed in this doctrine if we observe the
   nature of variety with regard to the mind of man. The soul does not
   care to be always in the same bent? the faculties relieve one another
   by turns, and receive an additional pleasure from the novelty of those
   objects about which they are conversant.

   Revelation likewise very much confirms this notion under the different
   views which it gives us of our future happiness. In the description of
   the throne of God, it represents to us all those objects which are able
   to gratify the senses and imagination. In very many places it intimates
   to us all the happiness which the understanding can possibly receive in
   that state where all things shall be revealed to us, and we shall know
   even as we are known. The raptures of devotion, of divine love, the
   pleasure of conversing with our blessed Saviour, with an innumerable
   host of angels, and with the spirits of just men made perfect, are
   likewise revealed to us in several parts of the holy writings. There
   are also mentioned those hierarchies of governments, in which the
   blessed shall be ranged one above another, and in which we may be sure
   a great part of our happiness will likewise consist; for it will not be
   there as in this world, where every one is aiming at power and
   superiority but, on the contrary, every one will find that station the
   most proper for him in which he is placed, and will probably think that
   he could not have been so happy in any other station. These, and many
   other particulars, are marked in divine revelation, as the several
   ingredients of our happiness in heaven, which all imply such a variety
   of joys, and such a gratification of the soul in all its different
   faculties, as I have been here mentioning.

   Some of the Rabbins tell us that the cherubims are a set of angels who
   know most, and the seraphims a set of angels who love most. Whether
   this distinction be not altogether imaginary I shall not here examine;
   but it is highly probable, that among the spirits of good men there may
   be some who will be more pleased with the employment of one faculty
   than of another, and this perhaps according to those innocent and
   virtuous habits or inclinations which have here taken the deepest root.

   I might here apply this consideration to the spirits of wicked men with
   relation to the pain which they shall suffer in every one of their
   faculties, and the respective miseries which shall be appropriated to
   each faculty in particular. But leaving this to the reflection of my
   readers, I shall conclude with observing how we ought to be thankful to
   our great Creator, and rejoice in the being which he has bestowed upon
   us, for having made the soul susceptible of pleasure by so many
   different ways. We see by what a variety of passages, joy and gladness
   may enter into the thoughts of man; how wonderfully a human spirit is
   framed to imbibe its proper satisfactions, and taste the goodness of
   its Creator. We may therefore look into ourselves with rapture and
   amazement, and cannot sufficiently express our gratitude to him, who
   has encompassed us with such a profusion blessings, and opened in us so
   many capacities of enjoying them.

   Therecannot be a stronger argument that God has designed us for a state
   of future happiness, and for that heaven which he has revealed to us,
   than that he has thus naturally qualified the soul for it, and made it
   a being capable of receiving so much bliss. He would never have made
   such faculties in vain, and have endued us with powers that were not to
   be exerted on such objects as are suited to them. It is very manifest,
   by the inward frame and constitution of our minds, the he has adapted
   them to an infinite variety of pleasures and gratifications which are
   not to be met with in this life. We should therefore at all times take
   care that we do not disappoint this his gracious purpose and intention
   towards us, and make those faculties, which he formed as so many
   qualifications for happiness and rewards, to be the instruments of pain
   and punishment.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [3] See Spectator, Vol. II. No. 111.
     __________________________________________________________________

SECT. XI.

DEATH AND JUDGEMENT.

   TO THE AUTHOR OF THE GUARDIAN.

   Sir,

   THE inclosed is a faithful translation from an old author, which if it
   deserves your notice, let the reader guess whether he was a Heathen or
   a Christian.

   I am, Your most humble Servant.

   "I cannot, my friends, forbear letting you know what I think of death;
   for, methinks, I view and understand it much better, the nearer I
   approach to it. 1 am convinced that your fathers, those illustrious
   persons whom 1 so much loved and honoured, do not cease to live, though
   they have passed through what we call death; they are undoubtedly still
   living, but it is that sort of life which alone deserves truly to be
   called life. In effect, while we are confined to bodies, we ought to
   esteem ourselves no other than a sort of galley slaves at the chain,
   since the soul, which is somewhat divine, and descends from heaven as
   the place of its original, seems debased and dishonoured by this
   mixture of flesh and blood, and, to be in a state of banishment from
   its celestial country. I cannot help thinking too, that one main reason
   of uniting souls to bodies, was, that the great work of the universe
   might have spectators to admire the beautiful order of nature, the
   regular motion of heavenly bodies, who should strive to express that
   regularity in the uniformity of their lives. When I consider the
   boundless activity of our minds, the remembrance we have of things
   past, our foresight of what is to come: when I relied on the noble
   discoveries, and vast improvements, by which these minds have advanced
   arts and sciences; I am entirely persuaded, and out of all doubt, that
   a nature which has in itself a fund of so many excellent things cannot
   possibly be mortal. I observe further, that my mind is altogether
   simple without the mixture of any substance of nature different from
   its own; I conclude from thence that it is indivisible, and
   consequently cannot perish.

   By no means think, therefore, my dear friends, when 1 shall have
   quitted you, that I cease to be, or shall subsist no where. Remember
   that while we live together you do not see my mind, and yet are sure
   that I have one actuating and moving my body: doubt not then but that
   this same mind will have a being when it is separated, though you
   cannot then perceive its actions. What nonsense would it be to pay
   those honours to great men after their deaths, which we constantly do,
   if their souls did not then subsist? For my own part, I could never
   imagine that our minds live only when united to our bodies, and die
   when they leave them; or that they shall cease to think and understand,
   when disengaged from bodies, which without them have neither sense or
   reason: on the contrary, I believe the soul, when separated from
   matter, to enjoy the greatest purity and simplicity of its nature, and
   to have much more wisdom and light than while it was united. We see
   when the body dies, what becomes of all the parts which compose it; but
   we do not see the mind, either in the body, or when it leaves it.
   Nothing more resembles death than sleep: and it is in that state that
   the soul chiefly shews it has something divine in its nature. How much
   more then must it shew it, when entirely disengaged?
     __________________________________________________________________

   --Afflata est numine quando
   Jam propiore Dei--Virg. Æneid. VI. v. 250.

   When all the god came rushing on her soul.

   Dryden.

   THE following letter comes to me from that excellent man in holy
   orders, whom I have mentioned more than once, as one of that society
   who assists me in my speculations. It is a thought in sickness, and of
   a very serious nature, for which reason I give it a place in the paper
   of this day,

   Sir,

   The indisposition which has long hung upon me, is at last grown to such
   a head, that it must quickly make an end of me, or of itself. You may
   imagine, that whilst I am in this bad state of health, there are none
   of your works which I read with greater pleasure than your Saturday's
   papers. I should be very glad if I could furnish you with any hints for
   that day's entertainment. Were I able to dress up several thoughts of a
   serious nature, which have made great impressions on my mind during a
   long fit of sickness, they might not be an improper entertainment for
   that occasion.

   Among all the reflections which usually rise in the mind of a sick man,
   who has time and inclination to consider his approaching end, there is
   none more natural than that of his going to appear naked and unbodied
   before him who made him. When a man considers, that, as soon as the
   vital union is dissolved, he shall see that Supreme Being, whom he now
   contemplates at a distance, and only in his works; or, to speak more
   philosophically, when by some faculty in the soul he shall apprehend
   the divine Being, and be more sensible of his presence, than we are now
   of the presence of any object which the eye beholds: a man must be lost
   in carelessness and stupidity, who is not alarmed at such a thought!
   Dr. Sherlock, in his excellent treatise upon death, has represented, in
   very strong and lively colours, the state of the soul in its first
   separation from the body, with regard to that invisible world which
   every where surrounds us, though we are not able to discover it through
   this grosser world of matter, which is accommodated to our senses in
   this life. His words are as follow.

   "That death, which is our leaving this world, is nothing else but our
   putting off these bodies, teaches us, that it is only our union to
   these bodies which intercepts the sight of the other world: the other
   world is not at such a distance from us as we may imagine: the throne
   of God indeed is at a great remove from this earth, above the third
   heavens, where he displays his glory to those blessed spirits which
   encompass his throne; but as soon as we step out of these bodies, we
   step into the other world, which is not so properly another world, (for
   there is the same heaven and earth still) as a new state of life. To
   live in these bodies is to live in this world, to live out of them is
   to remove into the next: for while our souls are confined to these
   bodies, and can look only through these material casements, nothing but
   what is material can affect us; nay, nothing but what is so gross, that
   it can reflect light, and convey the shapes and colours of things with
   it to the eye; so that, though within this visible world there be a
   more glorious scene of things than what appears to us, we perceive
   nothing at all of it; for this veil of flesh parts the visible and
   invisible world: but when we put off these bodies, there are new and
   surprising wonders present themselves to our views: when these material
   spectacles are taken off, the soul, with its own naked eyes, sees what
   was invisible before; and then we are in the other world, when we can
   see, and converse with it: thus St. Paul tells us, That when we are at
   home in the body, we are absent from the Lord; but when we are absent
   from the body, we are present with the Lord, 2 Cor. v. 6. 8. And,
   methinks, this is enough to cure us of our fondness for these bodies,
   unless we think it more desirable to be confined to a prison, and to
   look through a grate all our lives, which gives us but a very narrow
   prospect, and that none of the best neither, than to be set at liberty
   to view all the glories of the world. What would we give now for the
   least glimpse of that invisible world, which the first step we take out
   of these bodies will present us with? There are such things as eye hath
   not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man
   to conceive: Death opens our eyes, enlarges our prospect, presents us
   with a new and more glorious world, which we can never see while we are
   shut up in flesh which should make us as willing to part with this veil
   as to take the film off our eyes which hinders our sight.

   As a thinking man cannot but be very much affected with the idea of his
   appearing in the presence of that Being whom none can see and live, he
   must be much more affected when he considers that this Being whom he
   appears before will examine all the actions of his past life, and
   reward or punish him accordingly. I must confess that I think there is
   no scheme of religion, besides that of Christianity, which can possibly
   support the most virtuous person under this thought. Let a man's
   innocence be what it will, let his virtues rise to the highest pitch of
   perfection attainable in his life, there will be still in him so many
   secret sins, so many human frailties, so many offences of ignorance,
   passion, and prejudice, so many unguarded words and thoughts, and in
   short, so many defects in his best actions, that without the advantages
   of such an expiation and atonement as Christianity has revealed to us,
   it is impossible that he should be cleared before his sovereign Judge,
   or that he should be able to stand in his sight. Our holy religion
   suggests to us the only means whereby our guilt may be taken away, and
   our imperfect obedience accepted.

   It is this series of thought that I have endeavoured to express in the
   following hymn, which I have composed during this my sickness.

   I.


   WHEN rising from the bed of death,

   O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,

   I see my Maker, face to face,

   O how than I appear!

   II.


   If yet, while pardon may be found,

   And mercy may be sought,

   My heart with inward horror shrinks,

   And trembles at the thought,

   III.


   When thou, O Lord! shalt stand disclos'd

   In majesty severe,

   And sit in judgement on my soul,

   O how shall I appear!

   IV.


   But thou hast told the troubled mind,

   Who does her sins lament,

   The timely tribute of her tears

   Shall endless wo prevent.

   V.


   Then see the sorrows of my heart,

   Ere yet it is too late;

   And hear thy Saviour's dying groans,

   To give those sorrows weight.

   VI.


   For never shall my soul despair

   Her pardon to procure,

   Who knows thy only Son has di'd

   To make her pardon sure.
     __________________________________________________________________

   --Animæque capaces
   Mortis--

   Lucan.

   Our lives are ever in the pow'r of death.

   THE prospect of death is so gloomy and dismal, that if it were
   constantly before our eyes it would imbitter all the sweets of life.
   The gracious Author of our being hath therefore so formed us, that we
   are capable of many pleasing sensations, and reflections, and meet with
   so many amusements and solicitudes, as divert our thoughts from
   dwelling upon an evil, which by reason of its seeming distance, makes
   but languid impressions upon the mind. But how distant soever the time
   of our death may be, since it is certain that we must die, it is
   necessary to allot some portion of our life to consider the end of it;
   and it is highly convenient to fix some stated times to meditate upon
   the final period of our existence here. The principle of self-love, as
   we are men, will make us inquire, what is ike to become of us after our
   dissolution; and our conscience, as we are Christians, will inform us,
   that according to the good or evil of our actions here, we shall be
   translated to the mansions of eternal bliss or misery. When this is
   seriously weighed, we must think it madness to be unprepared against
   the black moment; but when we reflect, that, perhaps, that black moment
   may be tonight, how watchful ought we to be!

   I was wonderfully affected with a discourse I had lately with a
   clergyman of my acquaintance upon this head, which was to this effect:
   "The consideration, said the good man, that my being precarious, moved
   me many years ago to make a resolution, which I have diligently kept,
   and to which I owe the greatest satisfaction that a mortal man can
   enjoy. Every night before I address myself in private to my Creator, I
   lay my hand upon my heart, and ask myself, Whether if God should
   require my soul of me this night, I could hope for mercy from him? The
   bitter agonies I underwent, in this my first acquaintance with myself,
   were so far from throwing me into despair of that mercy which is over
   all God's works that they rather proved motives to greater
   circumspection in my conduct. The oftener I exercised myself in
   meditations of this kind, the less was my anxiety: and by making the
   thoughts of death familiar, what was at first so terrible and shocking
   is become the sweetest of my enjoyments. These contemplations have
   indeed made me serious, but not sullen; nay, they are so far from
   having soured my temper, that as I have a mind perfectly composed, and
   a secret spring of joy in my heart, so my conversation is pleasant, and
   my countenance sincere. I taste all the innocent satisfactions of life
   pure and serene; I have no share in pleasures that leave a sting behind
   them; nor am I cheated with that kind of mirth, in the midst of which
   there is heaviness."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum.

   Hor. lib. I. epist. 4. v. 13.


   Think ev'ry day, soon as the day is past,

   That thou hast liv'd, of thy short life the last.

   Mr. Ironside,

   THE following letter was really written by a young gentleman in a
   languishing illness, which both himself and those who attended him
   thought it impossible for him to outlive. If you think such an image of
   the state of a man's mind in that circumstance be worth publishing, it
   is at your service, and take it as follows:

   Dear Sir,

   You formerly observed to me, that nothing made a more ridiculous figure
   in a man's life, than the disparity we often find in him sick and well.
   Thus, one of an unfortunate constitution is perpetually exhibiting a
   miserable example of the weakness of his mind, or of his body, in their
   turns. I have had frequent opportunities of late to consider myself in
   these different views, and hope I have received some advantage by it.
   If what Mr. Waller says be true, that


   The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,

   Lets in new light thro' chinks that time has made,

   then surely sickness, contributing no less than old age to the shaking
   down this scaffolding of the body, may discover the inclosed structure
   more plainly. Sickness is a sort of early old age; it teaches us a
   diffidence in our earthly state, and inspires us with the thoughts of a
   future, better than a thousand volumes of philosophers and divines. It
   gives so warning a concussion to those props of our vanity, our
   strength and youth, that we think of fortifying ourselves within, when
   there is so little dependence on our out-works. Youth, at the very
   best, is but a betrayer of human life in a gentler and smoother manner
   than age: It is like a stream that nourishes a plant upon its bank, and
   causes it to flourish and blossom to the sight, but at the same time is
   undermining it at the root in secret. My youth has dealt more fairly
   and openly with me; it has afforded several prospects of my danger, and
   given me an advantage not very common to young men, that the
   attractions of the world have not dazzled me very much; and I began,
   where most people end, with a full conviction of the emptiness of all
   sorts of ambition, and the unsatisfactory nature of all human
   pleasures.

   When a smart fit of sickness tells me this scurvy tenement of my body
   will fall in a little time I am even as unconcerned as was that honest
   Hibernian, who, being in bed in the great storm some years ago, and
   told the house would tumble over his head, made answer, What care I for
   the house? I am only a lodger. I fancy it is the best time to die when
   one is in the best humour; and so excessively weak as I now am, I may
   say with conscience, that I am not at all uneasy at the thought that
   many men, whom I never had any esteem for, are likely to enjoy this
   world after me. When I reflect what an inconsiderable little atom every
   man is, with respect to the whole creation, methinks, it is a shame to
   be concerned at the removal of such a trivial animal as I am. The
   morning after my exit, the sun will rise as bright as ever, the flowers
   smell as sweet, the plants spring as green, the world will proceed in
   its old course, people will laugh as heartily, and marry as fast as
   they were used to do. "The memory of man (as it is elegantly expressed
   in the wisdom of Solomon) passeth away as the remembrance of a guest
   that tarrieth but one day." There are reasons enough in the fourth
   chapter of the same book to make any young man contented with the
   prospect of death. "For honourable age is not that which standeth in
   length of time, or is measured by number of years. But wisdom is the
   grey hair to men, and an unspotted life is old age."

   He was taken away speedily, lest that wickedness should alter his
   understanding, or deceit beguile his soul.

   I am your's.

THE END.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

                                    Indexes
     __________________________________________________________________

Index of Scripture References

   Psalms

   [1]23:1-6

   Matthew

   [2]10:18   [3]10:28   [4]10:32-33   [5]24:14   [6]28:19

   Luke

   [7]24:1-52   [8]24:13-53

   Acts

   [9]4:16   [10]15:5   [11]17:28   [12]21:1-40   [13]22:1-30
   [14]23:1-35

   2 Corinthians

   [15]5:6-8
     __________________________________________________________________

Index of Latin Words and Phrases

     * --Facies non omnibus una: [16]1
     * Si fractus illabatur orbis: [17]1
     * æternitas a parte ante: [18]1
     * --quicquid dignum sapiente bonoque est: [19]1
     * Afflata est numine quando Jam propiore Dei: [20]1
     * Afflavit Deus, et dissipantur: [21]1
     * Animæque capaces Mortis: [22]1
     * Aptissima quæque dabunt dii Charior est illis homo, quam sibi:
       [23]1
     * Cælum quid querimus ultra?: [24]1
     * Cahum ipsum petimus stultitia.: [25]1
     * Deus absconditus: [26]1
     * Ensi manum admovens.: [27]1
     * Fungar inani Munere: [28]1
     * Hæres Hæredem alterius, velut unda supervenit undam.: [29]1
     * In utramque partem facta; quæque vim inserant, Et quæ propulsent?
       Dextera intentat necem Vitam sinistra: vulnus hÆc dabit manus:
       Altera medelam vulneris; hic ad exitum Deducet, ictu simplici; hæc
       vetant mori. Secura ridet anima mucronis minas, Ensesque strictos,
       interire nescia. Extinguet ætas sidera diuturnior: Ætate languens
       ipse sol obscurius Emittet orbi consenescenti jubar: Natura et ipsa
       sentiet quondam vices Ætatis; annis ipsa deficiet gravis; At tibi
       juventus, at tibi immortalita; Tibi parta divum est vita. Periment
       mutuis Elementa sese et interibunt ictibus: Tu permanibis sola
       semper integra, Tu cunctu rerum quassa cuncta naufraga, Jum portu
       in ipso tuta, contemplabere. Compage rupta, corruent in se invicem,
       Orbesque fractic ingerentur orbibus; Illæsa tu sedebis extra
       fragmina.: [30]1
     * Inter silvas academi quærere verum.: [31]1
     * Labitur et labetur in omne volubilus avum: [32]1
     * Mens agitat molem: [33]1
     * Multa putans, sortemque animo miseratus iniquam.: [34]1
     * Nec morti esse locum: [35]1
     * Nequeo monstrare, et sentio tantum: [36]1
     * Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum.: [37]1
     * Omnibus in terris, quae sunt a Godibus usque Auroram et Gangem,
       pauci dignoscere possunt Vera bona, atque illis multum diversa,
       remota Erroris nebula: [38]1
     * Quæ demigrabitu alia hinc in corpora? Quæ terra mox incognita? Quis
       orbis novus, Manet incolendus? Quanta erit mutatio? Hæc intuenti
       spatia mihi quaqua patent Immensa: sed calignosa nox premit; Nec
       luce clara vult videra frugula. Figendus his pes; certa sunt hæc
       hactenus: Si quod gubernet numen humanum genus, (At, quod gubernet,
       esse clamant omnia) Virtute non gaudere certe non potest: Nec esse
       non beata, qua gaudet potest Sed qua beata sede? Quove in tempore?
       Hæc quanta quanta terra, tota est Cæsaris. Quid dubius hæret animus
       usque adeo? Brevi Hic nodum hic omnem expediet. Arma en imduor.:
       [39]1
     * Qui mare et terras variisque mundum Temperat horis: Unde nil majus
       generatur ipso, Nec viget quicquam simile aut secundum.: [40]1
     * Quicquid est illud, quod sentit, quod sapit, quod vult, quod viget,
       cæleste et divinum est, ab eamque rem æternum sit necesse est:
       [41]1
     * Quid si in hoc erro, quod animos hominum immortales esse credam,
       libenter erro: nec mihi hunc errorem, quo delector, dum vivo,
       extorqueri velo: sin mortuus (ut quidam minuti philosophi censent)
       nihil sentiam; no vereor, ne hunc errorem meum mortui philosophi
       irrideant.: [42]1
     * Quis enim virtutem amplectitur ipsam, Præmia si tollas?: [43]1
     * Religentem esse oportet, religiosum nefas: [44]1
     * SIC, sic se habere rem necesse prorsus est, Ratione vincis, do
       lubens manus, Plato. Quid enim dedisset. Qua dedit frusta nihil,
       Æternitatis insitam cupidinem Natura? Quorsum hæc duelis
       expectatio; Vitæque non explenda melioris sitis? Quid vult sibi
       aliud iste redeundi in nihil Horror, sub imis quemque agens
       præcordiis? Cur terita in se refugit anima, cur tremit Attonita,
       quoties, morte ne pareat, timet? Particula nempe est cuique
       nascenti indita Divinior; quæ corpus incolens agit; Hominique,
       succinit, tua est Æternitas. Æternitas! O lubricum nimis aspici,
       Mixtumque dulci gaudium formidine!: [45]1
     * Sacer inest in nobis spiritus bonorum malorumque custos, et
       observator, et quem admodum nos illum tractamus, ita et ille nos:
       [46]1
     * Sentio te sedem hominum ac domum contemplari, quæ si tibi parva (ut
       est) ita videtur, hæc coelestia semper spectato; illa humana
       contemnito.: [47]1
     * Solemque suum, seu sidera norunt: [48]1
     * Tisu carentem magna pars veri latet: [49]1
     * aternitas a parte post: [50]1
     * cenforiola: [51]1
     * cenforium: [52]1
     * exordium: [53]1
     * mentisque capacius altæ: [54]1
     * nexus utriusque mundi: [55]1
     * punctum stans: [56]1
     * sanctum sanctorum: [57]1
     __________________________________________________________________

Index of Pages of the Print Edition

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     __________________________________________________________________

            This document is from the Christian Classics Ethereal
               Library at Calvin College, http://www.ccel.org,
                   generated on demand from ThML source.

References

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