as to fit, by terminating in some event, some result consistent with the impression made on the senses, and which has given rise to the whole train of ideas."*

Whether we entirely agree with this reasoning or not there can be no doubt that the rapidity of thought, evinced in dreaming, is amazing; nor is it easy to elude the ingenious argument for the immateriality of the soul, which the author has founded on it; though, if we were to rely on this argument, it might land us in the belief, that the souls of the lower animals, many of which are known also to dream, must be immaterial too.

* I cannot, without diffidence, differ from such an authority; but I am by no means sure that the view the noble author has taken of these phenomena is perfectly correct. I should rather be inclined to think that the whole series of incidents in dreams were suggested after the shock which at last put an end to sleep, had been received; and, during the period, somewhat more than an instant, though exceedingly short, which elapsed before the process of awaking had been accomplished; and that the wound and discharge of musketry, imagined in the dream, were not the same as the puncture and the shot which actually took place, but were afterwards conceived, like the other parts of the dream. This view disembarrasses the matter of some of its difficulties; but, on any supposition, the dream must have been nearly instantaneous, and the rapidity of the succession of ideas is wonderful. I am compelled also to doubt the validity of the conclusion to which his Lordship comes, that "we only dream during the instant of transition into and out of sleep." Several facts contradict this view; and, in particular, the phenomena of somnambulism, and of speaking during sleep, are conclusive against it. The case of Dr Blacklock, for example, cannot possibly be explained on his Lordship's hypothesis.

97

FOURTH WEEK-SUNDAY.

THIS WORLD A STATE OF DISCIPLINE.

THE peculiar condition of sublunary things, as imperfect and transitory, is forced on our notice by the circumstances of the external world during the period of winter. The beauty of the year is gone,—the cheerful notes of the lark, of the blackbird, of the thrush, and of the whole choir which poured the voice of love and enjoyment from earth and sky, have ceased in our land, and a brooding ominous melancholy reigns around. This is but one instance of a character impressed, as we have seen, on every thing under the sun. All are full of change and decay; and the state of the natural world is only an emblem of that which subsists in the moral world, where temptation, and sin, and sorrow, have shed their fatal blight over the once glorious prospects of rational and immortal beings.

This condition would be totally inexplicable, were it not for the light thrown on the subject by Revelation. When we are told that we are at present only in the infancy of our existence, placed here in a state of discipline, to prepare us for a higher and more perfect residence, the mystery is unravelled, and we are made to understand, in some degree at least, why it has pleased the All-wise disposer of events to place us in a world where He only displays the brightness of His perfections as it were by glimpses, and casts clouds and darkness over the rest of the scene.

It is true that evil exists; but the Christian knows that it is over-ruled for good. Our Divine Master does not, indeed, remove calamity, but He changes its nature, and gives us power cheerfully to endure it. As His religion shows us the hand of a God of love in every thing, it causes us to regard distress, from whatever earthly source it arises, as "the chastisement of a Father, who

chastens us for our profit, that we may become partakers of his holiness." Hence the Christian is in a condition to feel a constant and delightful dependance on Providence. Thus instructed, he may grieve, but he cannot repine; he may be humbled and afflicted, but he cannot despair. Shall a child, who knows that a Father corrects him in love, murmur under the rod? Shall he not rather bend with humble resignation, and look up with affectionate joy, to the hand which wounds that it may heal?

This would be the effect of faith in the promises of the Gospel, even although the operations of Providence were surrounded with such mysterious darkness, that our limited faculties could perceive in them no traces of Divine wisdom and goodness. But it is no trifling addition to the satisfaction with which we rest in these promises, that God frequently condescends to make bare His holy arm in our sight, that we may follow His hand, as it over-rules earthly events, and controls human passions and affections, so as to render both moral and physical evil an instrument of good.

In reference to our condition as moral agents, and with a view to the powers and faculties, which, as fallen but rational creatures, we possess, it is not difficult to perceive in what manner the afflictive vicissitudes of life operate in elevating and ameliorating our character. If life were free from evil, there would be little to employ the judgment, or call into action the latent faculties,— little to rouse, to affect, and to invigorate the human soul. The heroic virtues of fortitude and courage, for example, would be without an object, were there no perils to encounter, and no enemies to subdue. What self-abasement could there be where there was no infirmity? What meekness, what patience, what forbearance, if there were no injustice to sustain, no calamities to suffer, and no injuries to forgive? Where were the exercise of resignation in a paradise of bliss? Where the trial of faith in a land of righteousness?

The social virtues, too, as well as the personal, could,

under such circumstances, only be called into partial action. How could there be any pity, where there was no distress?—any sympathetic joy, where there was no escape from danger?-any compassionate charity, where there were no sins to cover, and no wants to relieve?

Were there no evils, then, either in the circumstances of the external world, or in the moral and physical condition of the society in which we dwell, we should be placed in a state to which our fallen nature is not suited; and some of our noblest faculties would remain unexercised and unimproved. But it is not so. Under the discipline of Providence, the Christian is tutored in the school of adversity; and is rendered prudent by disappointment, humble by error, and magnanimous by endurance. Baffled, afflicted, persecuted, but rising superior to calamity, he unfolds his patience, his meekness, his resignation. Experiencing the hatred and contempt of those whom his heart desires to benefit, he learns the divine duty of forgiveness, and is taught to persevere in offices of kindness to the ungrateful. While engaged in these severe but exalted exercises, he becomes sensible of his own inability, and is forced to exclaim, "Who is sufficient for these things?" Thus, he is led to apply to Him who has said, " My grace is sufficient for thee, my strength is made perfect in weakness." Weeping for his sins at the foot of the cross, he feels the virtue of humility taking deep root and growing in his soul; and the graces of faith, of hope, and of joy in the Saviour of sinners, rising to maturity.

In a word, the disciple of the Man of Sorrows is exposed to temptation, that he may guard against it; to difficulties, that he may overcome them; to dangers, that he may rise above them. He is taught, by experience, the unprofitableness of sin, and he hates it,—the emptiness of human honours, and he despises them,—the worthlessness of earthly pleasures, and he looks beyond them.

Contemplate the servant of Jesus, as, under the guidance of Heaven, he advances through this vale of tears,

gradually throwing off the load of his sins,-mixing with the world, that he may learn to despise its follies,-gaining strength by moral discipline, and improving in virtues and graces at every step. In this character, you witness the highest glory of human nature in its state of sin and suffering on earth,—a being worthy of the approbation of angels. You see a soldier taught to fight the good fight of faith, and trained to victory amidst hardships, dangers, and death,—a pilgrim travelling through the wilderness, with steady eye fixed on the Holy Land,- -a pupil of God, instructed in the school of His providence,-an heir of immortality, rendered meet for the inheritance of the saints in light.

In this noble, this admirable being, you no longer recognize the fallen descendant of Adam, but the adopted child of God. Amazing change! How superior is this once degraded and wretched outcast to his former self! Clothed now in the armour of God, he goes forth " conquering and to conquer,”-surrounded with danger, but trusting in an unseen arm,-struggling with sorrow, yet kissing the hand which inflicts the wound,-“ troubled on every side but not distressed, perplexed but not in despair, persecuted but not forsaken, cast down but not destroyed," eluding the snares of the world, and even successfully contending with "principalities and powers, the rulers of the darkness of this world, and spiritual wickedness in high places."

What striking instances of the efficacy of Christian principles, exercised amidst vicissitudes and suffering, do we discover in the Apostles of our Lord, who rejoiced when they were counted worthy of stripes for the sake of their beloved Master, in whom “tribulation wrought patience, and patience experience, and experience hope ;" and whom "hope made not ashamed, because the love of God was shed abroad in their hearts." And, above all, what a dignified and lovely example of the same principle do we behold in Christ himself, whose whole life was an illustration of the power of Divine grace, in