to raise himself to a superiority over others, will naturally excite the same desires of greater elevation, while he sees any superior to himself. There is, therefore, no hope that, by pursuing greatness, any man can be happy; or, at least, this happiness must be confined to one, because only one can be without a superior; and that one must surely feel his enjoyments very frequently disturbed, when he remembers by how many the station which he possesses is envied and coveted; when he reflects, how easily his possessions may be taken from him, perhaps by the same arts by which he attained them; how quickly the affections of the people may, by artful representations of his conduct, be alienated from him; or how easily he may be destroyed by violence, and what numbers ambition or revenge may invite to destroy him.

There is, at least, one consideration, which must imbitter the life of him, who places his happiness in his present state; a consideration that cannot be suppressed by any artful sophistries, which the appetites or the senses are always ready to suggest, and which it might be imagined not always possible to avoid in the most rapid whirl of pleasure, or the most incessant tumults of employment. As it is impossible for any man not to know, it may be well imagined difficult for him not to remember, that, however surrounded by his dependents, however caressed by his patrons, however applauded by his flatterers, or esteemed by his friends, he must one day die; that, though he should have reason to imagine himself secured from any sudden diminution of his wealth, or any violent precipitation from his rank or power, yet they must

soon be taken away, by a force not to be resisted or escaped. He cannot but sometimes think, when he surveys his acquisitions, or counts his followers, "that this night his soul may be required of him;” and that he had applauded himself for the attainment of that which he cannot hope to keep long, and which, if it could make him happy while he enjoys it, is yet of very little value, because the enjoyment must be very short.

The story of the great Eastern monarch, who, when he surveyed his innumerable army from an eminence, wept at the reflection that in less than a hundred years not one of all that multitude would remain, has been often mentioned; because the particular circumstances in which that remark occurred, naturally claim the thought and strike the imagination; but every man that places his happiness in external objects, may, every day, with equal propriety, make the same observations. Though he does not lead armies, or govern kingdoms, he may reflect, whenever he finds his heart swelling with any present advantage, that he must, in a very short time, lose what he so much esteems; that in a year, a month, a day, or an hour, he may be struck out from the book of life, and placed in a state where wealth or honour shall have no residence, and where all those distinctions shall be for ever obliterated, which now engross his thoughts, and exalt his pride.

This reflection will surely be sufficient to hinder that peace, which all terrestrial enjoyments can afford, from being perfect. It surely will soon disperse those meteors of happiness that glitter in the eyes only of the thoughtless and the supine,

and awaken him to a serious and rational inquiry, where real happiness is to be found; by what means man, whom the great Creator cannot be supposed to have formed without the power of obtaining happiness, may set himself free from the shackles of anxiety with which he is encumbered; may throw off the load of terror which oppresses him, and liberate himself from those horrors which the approach of death perpetually excites.

This he will immediately find only to be accomplished by securing to himself the protection of a Being mighty to save; a Being, whose assistance may be extended equally to all parts of his duration; who can equally defend him in the time of danger and of security; in the tumults of the day, and the privacy of the night; in the time of tribulation, and in a time frequently more fatal, the time of wealth; and in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment. And when he has found the necessity of this sovereign Protector, and humbled himself with a due conviction of his own impotence, he may at last find the only comfort which this life can afford him, by remembering, that this great, this unbounded Being, has informed us of the terms on which perfect peace is to be obtained, and has promised it to those whose mind is stayed on him.

Since, therefore, the pursuit of perfect peace is the great, the necessary, the inevitable business of human life; since this peace is to be attained by trust in God, and by that only; since, without this, every state is miserable, and the voluptuous and the busy are equally disappointed; what can be more useful than seriously to inquire,

. First, What is meant by this trust in God, to which perfect peace is promised? and,

Secondly, By what means this trust in God is to be attained?

First, therefore, let us consider what is meant by this trust in God, to which perfect peace is promised.

Trust, when it is used où common occasions, im, plies a kind of resignation to the honesty or abili-` ties of another. Thus we trust a physician, when we obey his directions without knowing or asking the particular reasons for the methods which he enjoins thus we trust a friend, when we commit our affairs to his management, without disturbing ourselves with any care concerning them: thus we trust a patron, when we serve him with dili gence, without any other certainty of a reward than what our confidence in his generosity affords us. These instances may give us some idea of that trust which we ought to repose in God; but an idea, in the utmost degree, gross and inadequate. Our trust in God ought to differ from every other trust, as infinity differs from an atom: it ought to transcend every other degree of confidence, as its object is exalted above every degree of created excellence.

But, in our present state, it is impossible to practise this, or any other duty, in perfection. We cannot trust God as we ought, because we cannot know him as we ought. We know, however, that he is infinite in wisdom, in power, and in goodness; that therefore he designs the happiness of all his creatures; that he cannot but know the proper

means by which this end may be obtained; and that, in the use of these means, as he cannot be mistaken, because he is omniscient, so he cannot be defeated, because he is almighty.

We know, therefore, that those whom he shall protect cannot be in danger; that neither the malice of wicked men, nor of wicked angels, can really injure them; but that persecution and danger shall only harass them for a time, and death set them free from disappointment and from pain. He therefore that trusts in God will no longer be distracted in his search after happiness; for he will find it in a firm belief, that whatever evils are suffered to befall him will finally contribute to his felicity; and that, by "staying his mind upon the Lord, he will be kept in peace."

But God has promised this protection, not indiscriminately to all, but to those only who endeavour to obtain it, by complying with the conditions which he has prescribed: nor is the perfect peace, which the confidence of divine support confers, to be hoped for, but by those who have obtained a wellgrounded trust in him; and, by the practice of his precepts, have stayed their minds upon him. It is, therefore, necessary to inquire,

Secondly, How this trust is to be attained.

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That there is a fallacious and precipitate trust in God, a trust which, as it is not founded upon God's promises, will, in the end, be disappointed, we are informed by our Saviour himself: Many will say unto me, in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name cast out devils? and in thy name have done many wonder