in me, which I believe very often perplexes and disturbs men of ferous and contemplative natures. David himfe!f fell into it in that reflexion, When I confider the ⚫ heavens the work of thy fingers, the moon and the ftars which thou haft ordained, what is man that thou art mindful of him, and the fon of man that thou re'gardest him!' In the fame manner, when I confider that infinite host of stars, or, to fpeak more philosophically, of funs, which were then fhining upon me, with thote innumerable fets of planets or worlds, which were moving round their respective funs; when I fill enlarged the idea, and fuppofed another heaven of funs and worlds riling fill above this which we difcovered, and thefe ftill enlightened by a fuperior firmament of luminaries, which are planted at fo great a distance, that they may appear to the inhabitants of the former as the ftars do to us; in fhort, while I purfued this thought, I could not but reflect on that little infignificant figure which I myself bore amidit the immenfity of God's

works.

Were the fun, which enlightens this part of the creation, with all the hoft of planetary worlds that move about him, utfery extinuifhed and annihilated, they would not be miffed, more than a grain of fand upon the fea fhore. The pace they poffets is fo exceedingly little in comparifes of the whole, it would fcarce make a blank in the creation. The chafm would be imperceptible to an eye, that could take in the whole compafs of nature, and pats from one end of the creation to the other: as it is poffible there may be fuch a fenfe in ourselves hereafter, or in creatures which are at prefent more exalted than ourfelves. We fee many flars by the help of glaffes, which we do not discover with our naked eyes; and the finer our telescopes are, the more ftill are our difcoveries. Huygenius carries this thought fo far, that he does not think it impoffible there may be ftars whole light is not yet travelled down to us fince their first creation. There is no question but the universe has certain bounds set to it; but when we confider that it is the work of infinite power, prompted by infinite goodness, with an infinite space to exert itself in, how can our imagination fet any bounds to it?

To return, therefore, to my first thought, I could not but look upon myself with fecret horror, as a being that was not worth the mallest regard of one who had fo great a work under his care and fuperinten

dency. I was afraid of being overlooked amit the immensity of nature, and loft among that infinite variety of creatures, which in all probability fwarm through all these immeafurable regions of matter.

In order to recover myfelf from this mortifying thought, I confidered that it took its rife from those narrow conceptions, which we are apt to entertain of the divine nature. We ourselves cannot attend to many different objects at the fame time. If we are careful to inspect fome things, we must of course neglect others. This imperfection which we cbferve in ourselves, is an imperfection that cleaves in fome de. gree to creatures of the highest capacities, as they are creatures, that is, beings of finite and limited natures. The prefence of every created being is confined to a certain measure of space, and confequently his obfervation 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 rife one above another in the fcale 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 ourfelves, that we cannot forbear in fome meafure afcribing it to him in whom there is no fhadow of imperfection. Our reason indeed affures us, that his attributes are infinite: but the poorness of our conceptions is fuch, that it cannot forbear setting bounds to every thing it contemplates, till our reafon comes again to our fuccour, and throws down all thofe little prejudices which rise in us unawares, and are natural to the mind of man.

We shall therefore utterly extingufh this melancholy thought, of our being overlooked by our Maker in the multiplicity of his works, and the infinity of thofe objects among which he feems to be inceffantly` employed, if we confider, in the first place, that he is omniprefent; and in the second, that he is omniscient.

If we confider him in his omniprefence: his being palies through, actuates, and fupports 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 fo diftant, fo little, or fo inconfiderable, which he does not effentially inhabit. His fubftance is within the fubitance of every being, whether material or immaterial, and as intimately prefent to it, as that being is to itself. It would be an imper

fection

fection in him, were he able to move out of one place into another, or to draw himfelf from any thing he has created, or from any part of that pace which he diffufed and fpread abroad to infinity. In fhort, to speak of him in the language of the old philofophers, he is a being whofe centre is every where, and his circumference no where.

In the fecond place, he is omnifcient as well as omniprefent. His omnifcience indeed neceffarily and naturally flows from his omniprefence. He cannot but be confcious of every motion that arifes in the whole material world, which he thus effentially pervades ; and of every thought that is ftirring in the intellectual world, to every part of which he is thus intimately united. Several moralifts have confidered the creation as the temple of God, which he has built with his own hands, and which is filled with his prefence. Others have confidered infinite space as the receptacle, or rather the habitation of the Almighty: but the noblest and most exalted way of confidering this infinite fpace, is that of Sir Ifaac Newton, who calls it the fenforium of the Godhead. Brutes and men have their fenforiola, or little fenforiums, by which they apprehend the prefence and perceive the actions of a few objects, that lie contiguous to them. Their knowledge and obfervation turn within a very narrow circle. But as God Almighty cannot but perceive and know every thing in which he refides, infinite fpace gives room to infinite knowledge, and is, as it were, an organ to omnifci

ence.

Were the foul feparate from the body, and with one glance of thought fhould ftart beyond the bounds of the creation, fhould it for millions of years continue its progrefs through infinite space with the fame activity, it would ftill find itfelf within the embrace of its Creator, and encompaffed round with the immenfity of the Godhead. While we are in the body he is not lefs prefent with us, becaufe he is concealed from us. Oh that I knew where I might find him! (fays 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 himfelf on the right hand that I cannot fee him.' In short, reafon as well as revelation, affure us, that he cannot be abfent from us, notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us.

:

In this confideration of God Almighty's omniprefence and omnifcience, every uncomfortable thought vanishes. He cannot but regard every thing that has being, efpecially fuch 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 occafion; for, as it is impoffible he fhould overlook any of his creatures; fo we may be confident that he regards, with an eye of mercy, thofe who endeavour to recommend themselves to his notice, and in unfeigned humility of heart think themselves unworthy that he fhould be mindful of them. Spectator.

S. Motives to Piety and Virtue, drawn from the Omnifcience and Omniprefence of the Deity.

In one of your late papers, you had oc cafion to confider the ubiquity of the Godhead, and at the fame time to fhew, that as he is prefent 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 omniprefence are co-existent, and run together through the whole infinitude of pace. This confideration might furnish us with many incentives to devotion, and motives to morality; but as this fubject has been handled by feveral excellent writers, I fhall confider it in a light in which I have not feen it placed by others.

First, How difconfolate is the condition of an intellectual being, who is thus prefent with his Maker, but at the fame time receives no extraordinary benefit or advantage from this his prefence !

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

Thirdly, How happy is the condition of that intellectual being, who is fenfible of his Maker's prefence from the fecret effects of his mercy and loving - kindnefs!

First, How difconfolate is the condition of an intellectual being, who is thus prefeat with his Maker, but at the fame time receives no extraordinary benefit or advan tage from this his presence! Every particle of matter is actuated by this Almighty Being which paffes through it. The heavens and the earth, the ftars and planets, move and gravitate by virtue of this great

principle

principle within them. All the dead parts All the dead parts of nature are invigorated by the prefence of their Creator, and made capable of exerting their respective qualities. The feveral inflincts, in the brute creation, do kikewife operate and work towards the feveral ends which are agreeable to them, by this divine energy. Man only, who does not co-operate with his holy fpirit, and is unattentive to his prefence, receives none of these advantages from it, which are perfective of his nature, and neceffary 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 fame thing to a man without religion, as if there were no God in the world. It is indeed impoffible for an infinite Being to remove himself from any of his creatures; but though he cannot withdraw his effence from us, which would argue an imperfection in him, he can withdraw from us all the joys and confolations of it. His prefence may perhaps be neceffary to fupport us in our existence; but he may leave this our exiftence to itself, with regard to its happiness or mifery. For, in this fenfe, he may caft us away from his prefence, and take his holy spirit from us. This fingle confideration one would think fufficient to make us open our hearts to all thofe infu fions of joy and gladness which are so near at hand, and ready to be poured in upon us; efpecially when we confider, Secondly, the deplorable condition of an intellectual being, who feels no other effects from his Maker's prefence, but fuch as proceed from divine wrath and indignation!

We may affure 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 fure at length to feel him in his di pleasure. And how dreadful is the condition of that creature, who is only fenfible of the being of his Creator by what he fuffers from him! He is as effentially prefent in hell as in heaven; but the inhabitants of thofe accurfed places behold him only in his wrath, and thrink 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 fhall only confider the wretchednefs of an intellectual being, who, in this life, lies under the difplcafure of him, that at all times, and in all places, is intimately ■nited with him. He is able to difquiet

the foul, 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 flightest calamities. Who then can bear the thought of being an out-caft from his prefence, that is, from the comforts of it, or of feeling it only in its terrors? How pathetic is that expoftu lation of Job, when for the real trial of his patience, he was made to look upon himfelf in this deplorable condition! Why haft thou fet me as a mark against thee, fo that I am become a burden to myfelf?" But, thirdly, how happy is the condition of that intellectual being, who is fenfible of his Maker's prefence from the fecret effects of his mercy and lovingkindness!

The bleffed in heaven behold him face to face, that is, are as fenfible of his prefence as we are of the prefence of any perfon whom we look upon with our eyes. There is doubtless a faculty in spirits, by which they apprehend one another, as our fenfes do material objects; and there is no queftion but our fouls, when they are difembodied, or placed in glorified bodies, will by this faculty, in whatever part of space they refide, be always fenfible of the divine prefence. We, who have this veil of flesh ftanding between us and the world of fpirits, must be content to know the spirit of God is prefent with us by the effects which he produceth in us. Our outward fenfes are too grofs to apprehend him; we may however tafte and fee how gracious he is, by his influence upon our minds, by thofe virtuous thoughts which he awakens in us, by thofe fecret comforts and refreshments which he conveys into our fouls, and by thofe ravishing joys and inward fatisfactions which are perpetually fpringing up, and diffufing themfelves among all the thoughts of good men. He is lodged in our very effence, and is as a foul within the foul, to irradiate its understanding, rectify its will, purify its paffions, 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 foul! Though the whole creation frowns upon him, and all nature locks black about him, he has his light and fupport within him, that are able to cheer his mind, and bear him up in the midst of all thofe horrors which encompass him. He knows that his helper is at hand, and is always nearer to him than any thing elfe

can

can be, which is capable of annoying or terrifying him. In the midst of calumny or contempt, he attends to that Being who whifpers better things within his foul, and whom he looks upon as his defender, his glory, and the lifter-up of his head. In his deepest folitude and retirement, he knows that he is in company with the greatest of beings; and perceives within himfelf fuch real fenfations of his prefence, as are more delightful than any thing that can be met with in the converfation of his creatures. Even in the hour of death, he confiders the pains of his diffolution to be nothing else but the breaking down of that partition, which stands betwixt his foul, and the fight of that being who is always prefent with him, and is about to manifeft itfelf to him in fulness of joy.

If we would be thus happy, and thus fenfible of our Maker's prefence, from the fecret effects of his mercy and goodness, we must keep fuch a watch over all our thoughts, that in the language of the fcripture, his foul may have pleasure in us. We must take care not to grieve his holy fpirit, and endeavour to make the meditations of our hearts always acceptable in his fight, that he may delight thus to refide and dwell in us. The light of nature could direct Seneca to this doctrine, in a very remarkable paffage among his epiftles; Sacer ineft in nobis fpiritus, bonorum malorumque cuftos et obfervator; et quemadmodum nos illum tractamus, ita et ille nos. There is a holy spirit refiding in us, who watches and obferves both good and evil men, ⚫ and will treat us after the fame manner ⚫ that we treat him.' But I fhall conclude this discourse with thofe 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.' Spectator.

9. On the Immortality of the Soul. 1 was yesterday walking alone in one of my friend's woods, and loft myself in it very agreeably, as I was running over in my mind the feveral arguments that eftablish this great point, which is the bafis of morality, and the fource of all the pleafing hopes and fecret joys that can arife in the heart of a reasonable creature. I confidered thofe feveral proofs drawn,

First, from the nature of the foul itself, and particularly its immateriality; which, though not abfolutely neceffary to the eter

nity of its duration, has, I think, been evinced to almoft a demonftration.

Secondly, from its paffions and fentiments, as particularly from its love of exiftence, its horror of annihilation, and its hopes of immortality, with that feeret fatisfaction which it finds in the practice of virtue, and that uneafinefs which follows in it upon the commiffion of vice.

Thirdly, from the nature of the Supreme Being, whofe juftice, goodness, wisdom, and veracity, are all concerned in this point.

But among these and other excellent arguments for the immortality of the foul, there is one drawn from the perpetual progrefs of the foul to its perfection, without a poffibility of ever arriving at it; which is a hint that I do not remember to have feen opened and improved by others who have written on this fubject, though it feems to me to carry a very great weight with it. How can it enter into the thoughts of man, that the foul, which is capable of fuch immense perfections, and of receiving new improvements to all eternity, shall fall away into nothing almost as foon as it is created? Are fuch 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 fame thing he is at prefent. Were a human foul thus at a ftand in her accomplishments, were her fa culties to be full blown, and incapable of farther enlargements, I could imagine it might fall away infenfibly, and drop at once into a ftate of annihilation. But can we believe a thinking being, that is in a perpetual progrefs of improvements, and travelling on from perfection to perfection, after having juft looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made a few dif coveries of his infinite goodness, wisdom, and power, muft perish at her first setting out, and in the very beginning of her enquiries?

A man, confidered in his prefent ftate, feems only fent into the world to propagate his kind. He provides himself with a fucceffor, and immediately quits his poft to make room for him.

He does not feem born to enjoy life, but to deliver it down to others. This is not furprizing to confider in animals, which are formed for our ufe, and can finish their bufires in a fhort life. The filk-worm, after having fpun her task, lays her eggs and dies. But a man can never have taken in his full measure of knowledge, has not time to fubdue his paffions, eftablish his foul in virtue, and come up to the perfection of his nature, before he is hurried off the stage. Would an infinitely wife being make fuch glorious creatures for fo mean a purpofe? Can he delight in the production of fuch abortive intelligences, fuch fhort-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 fhines 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 feveral generations of rational creatures, which rise up and disap. pear in fuch quick fucceffions, are only to receive their firft rudiments of existence here, and afterwards to be tranfplanted into a more friendly climate, where they may (pread and flourish to all eternity?

There is not, in my opinion, a more pleating and triumphant confideration in religion, than this of the perpetual progrefs which the foul makes towards the perfection of its nature, without ever arriving at a period in it. To look upon the foul as going on from ftrength to strength, to confider that she is to thine for ever with new acceffions of glory, and brighten to all eternity; that he will be ftill adding virtue to virtue, and knowledge to knowledge; carries in it fomething wonderfully agreeable to that ambition which is natural to the mind of man. Nay, it must be a profpe&t pleafing to God himielf, to fee his creation for ever beautifying in his eyes, and drawing nearer to him, by greater degrees of refemblance.

Methinks this fingle confideration, of the progrefs of a finite fpirit to perfection, will be fufficient to extinguish all envy in inferior natures, and all contempt in fuperior. That cherubim, which now appears as a God to a human foul, knows very well that the period will come about in eternity, when the human foul fhall be as perfect as he himself now is: nay, when the fhall look down upon that degree of perfection as much as the now falls fhort of it. It is true, the higher nature ftill advances,

and by that means preferves his distance and fuperiority in the fcale of being; but he knows that, how high foever the station is of which he ftands poffeffed at present, the inferior nature will at length mount up to it, and fhine forth in the fame degree of glory.

With what aftonishment and veneration may we look into our own fouls, where there are fuch hidden stores of virtue and knowledge, fuch inexhausted sources of perfection! We know not yet what we fhall be, nor will it ever enter into the heart of man to conceive the glory that will be always in referve for him. The foul, confidered with its Creator, is like one of those mathematical lines that may draw nearer to another for all eternity without a poffi bility of touching it: and can there be a thought fo tranfporting as to confider ourfelves in thefe perpetual approaches to him, who is not only the standard of perfection, but of happiness! Spectator.

§ 10. The Duty of Children to their Parents.

I am the happy father of a very towardly fon, in whom I do not only fee my life, but alfo my manner of life renewed. It would be extremely beneficial to fociety, if you would frequently resume subjects which ferve to bind thefe fort of relations fafter, and endear the ties of blood with thofe of good-will, protection, observance, indulgence, and veneration. I would, methinks, have this done after an uncommon method; and do not think any one, who is not capable of writing a good play, fit to undertake a work wherein there will neceffarily occur fo many secret instincts and biaffes of human nature, which would pafs unobserved by common eyes. I thank Heaven i have no outrageous offence againft my own excellent parents to answer for; but when I am now and then alone, and look back upon my pait life, from my earlieft infancy to this time, there are many faults which I committed that did not appear to me, even until I myself became a father. I had not until then a notion of the yearnings of heart, which a man has when he fees his child do a laudable things or the fudden damp which feizes him when he fears he will act fomething unworthy. It is not to be imagined what a remorfe touched me for a long train of childish negligences of my mother, when I faw my wife the other day look out of the window, and turn as pale as afhes upon feeing my

younger