assembled, were undoubtedly at first chambers in private houses: none other would offer, or indeed would serve as well, since secrecy and retirement would naturally be sought by those who assembled at the hazard of their lives. But it is probable, from what I have already stated, that at a very early period particular houses or chambers were considered sacred to those uses, and set apart to the especial service of God; and it is certain, that this was the case at the time when St. Paul wrote his first epistle to the Corinthians; since he especially rebukes them for profaning the house of God, and not distinguishing between it and common buildings. "What? have ye not houses to eat and drink in? or despise ye the church of God, and shame them that have not?" (1 Cor. xi. 22.) : I have thus endeavoured to shew you what was the practice of the early Church in regard to social worship, as it is recorded in that book which you all have in your hands, and may consult for yourselves: that they were not content with the duty of private prayer, but that they were willing to risk their lives, rather than forego the duty and privilege of meeting together for acts of social worship and communion. I know the excuse which is sometimes made by those who do not choose to shape their practice by the apostles' rule that they can worship God as well at home as in the assemblies of his house. I notice this excuse, not because it is the only one, or because it is the most common, but because it is the most specious and plausible. The common excuses derived from the plea of business, family cares, and the like, I never yet found any one prepared seriously to maintain they are often, indeed, alleged, but they will not stand the test of reason; nor do they satisfy the conscience of the person who offers them. I fully admit, that the occupations of life, and, still more, domestic duties, are in the case of the poor a fair plea for partial attendance, and may be admitted as excuses for occasional absences from the house of God. But no occupation of life can be lawful which keeps away a man entirely from the house of God; and any man is living in sin who continues in that occupation. And in regard to domestic duties, I will undertake to say, that no family is so circumstanced as to require the constant absence from church of any member of it. Arrangements may be made to allow of the occasional attendance of every member of it who is not kept away by sickness. I have had frequent occasion to make these remarks in visiting the poor, and I never yet found any one who would attempt to gainsay them, however much their practice might be at variance with them: and therefore I say, that such excuses are not sufficient to quiet a man's own conscience. How much less can they stand before God! Judge therefore yourselves, brethren, in this matter, that ye be not judged of the Lord. If there is any one present who has strayed, as it were by accident, into this congregation, who has lived in habitual neglect of the ordinances of God's house, I would entreat him to weigh what I have said, and to deliver his soul from this guilt, as I pray to be delivered from his blood by this warning. Let me say a few words on the excuse which I have noticed above-that a man can pray to God as well at home in his own house as in the church. Were this true, it would be still no reason for violating the commands of our Lord and his disciples, and departing from their practice in this matter. The same apostles who have set us this example did not fail to rebuke any departure from it; and when the Hebrew Christians, under the heat of persecution, grew slack in their attendance on the ordinances of God's house, St. Paul wrote to them to command them not "to forsake the assembling of themselves together" (Heb. x. 25). Were your excuse, then, true; I would say, you are living in the neglect of a plain, undoubted command of the word of God, and you are therefore guilty before Him. But your excuse is not true; it is not true, my brethren, that private prayer will do in the place of public prayer. It has its use; public prayer has also its use. God has fitted us for society, and this feeling enters into religion as much as into all other things. We are so framed, that we act mutually on each other, as every man's experience may satisfy him; though few, if any, can explain or understand how this influence is communicated. It is not my purpose to explain it; but a few observations may perhaps satisfy you of the fact. Who has not felt the power of a large assembly to call forth feelings which he never experienced in private? who ever joined in the praises of God in his solemn assembly, without feeling his heart elevated, in a way perhaps that he has seldom, if ever, felt when alone? has not the word of God often come home with more power to our hearts when read in the congregation, than it has when we have taken it up in our own houses? does any one believe, that he would be affected by those pledges of our Saviour's love if he partook of them in solitude, as he has often been when kneeling around the same altar with those whom he believed to be animated with one hope and one faith? Let this satisfy you, my poorer brethren: neither you nor I may be able to understand the curious and wonderful structure of our minds, nor to trace those secret | springs by which God moves us: but shall we therefore neglect to act upon what we do know? You do know the power of social worship to act upon your minds in a way that private prayer cannot: you have often felt it, perhaps in this house. When you have heard the words of your gracious Saviour read, you have realised the feeling of the apostles: "Did not our hearts burn within us, when he talked to us by the way, and opened to us the Scriptures ?" (Luke, xxiv. 32.) Act, therefore, upon your own experience: be regular and frequent in your attendance on God's house, as you feel its power to benefit you; and be assured, that in so doing you are far wiser than those who stay away because they cannot explain why social prayer should be better than private. Believe that God, who has made us and knows our frame, has provided for its wants, in ordaining social as well as private prayer: it has its special promises as well as private prayer, "Where two or three are met together in my name, there am I in the midst of them" (Matt. xviii. 20). And we have seen this promise realised in the two first Sabbaths on which the Christian Church met, when "Jesus came and stood in the midst of them, and said unto them, Peace be unto you" (John, xx. 19). Believe that he is no less present now-not as he then appeared, in a bodily form, but in power and in spirit. Strive to realise the devotional spirit which these beautiful services breathe: they can never hurry you into excess; their warmth is ever chastened by a holy reverence, which never suffers you to forget in whose presence you are, or the majesty of that great Being whom you are addressing. Are you cold and insensible to these privileges? Beware lest you provoke God to withdraw them, by cutting you off from the ordinances of his house. How many in sickness, when exiled from his house, have had occasion to mourn over their neglect of these advantages when placed within their reach, and "to pour out their soul," perhaps in vain regret, "when they remember these things!" (Psalm xlii. 4.) Do you value the privileges you enjoy? Shew your sense of them by the frequency of your attendance on the house of God, and by the earnestness with which you enforce this duty on all whom God has placed within the reach of your influence. Above all, if you are grateful to the Church in whose bosom you have been nurtured, and which has fed you with the pure word of life, be careful that your lives bring no stain on that communion of which you profess yourselves members: let your hearts be animated towards her with that affection which dictated that beautiful prayer of the Psalmist, "Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces. For my brethren and companions' sake, I will now say, Peace be within thee. Because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek thy good. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee" (Psalm cxxii, 6-9). There are many present, whose prayers have been put up this day in faith, and whose hearts, I have no doubt, have been humbled before God in the affecting confession of our Church; they have realised the fulfilment of that promise, and felt its power to impart a peace which the world can neither give nor take away. It is open to all to do the same: God has bestowed upon you great privileges in this respect. We have seen this day under what circumstances the early Christians met. This privilege, for which they were content to hazard their lives, and for which many a martyr bled, is yours to enjoy in quietness and peace. They met in narrow and obscure chambers; it is yours to assemble in houses which have for centuries been consecrated to prayer, and which are associated with our holiest feelings. Within these walls your children were dedicated to God; around them lie the remains of your relatives and friends on every side there meet your eyes some memorials of your faith, calculated to inspire holy thoughts and raise your hearts to heaven. It is your privilege to worship God in prayers, many of which have animated and sustained the devotions of the Church for more than fifteen hundred years. They are eminently calculated to enlighten your faith, and to awaken the spirit of prayer. ON THE GIFts of god iN NATURE AND GRACE. BY MISS M. A. S. BARBER. No. IV. Christian Watchfulness. SLEEP is an image of death, and is continually used in the Bible to denote that thoughtlessness and forgetfulness of God, which, as a deep sleep, have settled. upon the world " sitting in darkness." "Darkness hath covered the earth, and gross darkness the people" to the interests, the cares, the enjoyments, of this life, they are indeed fully awake; but to every thing which concerns God, eternity, and their own salvation, they are as indifferent as though each individual fancied himself exempted from the common lot-as though he alone of all his race should never behold either the hour of death or the day of judg ment; professing to receive as true that Bible whose pages they never open, and rendering unto God one only unmeaning homage-a weekly attendance upon the service of the Church, which custom demands, and which habit has taught them to consider a duty; they live effectually without God in the world-sleeping the sleep of death; neither knowing nor fearing preparation for that future state of existence which the danger which surrounds them, nor making any every passing day brings nearer to them, until at last, if they awake not from their sleep, it will come upon them "like a snare." It is commonly thought | they are unwilling to have that sleep disturbed; but how seldom is it attempted! The missionary-meeting is thronged with earnest and interested hearers; the Sunday-school filled with kind and pious teachers; and the cottages of the poor continually frequented by anxious and disinterested visitors: but how seldom is this anxiety for the salvation of others displayed in the immediate circle of social influence! The kind acquaintance, the long- tried friend, and even the beloved relation, are but too often suffered to tread the downward path for years, without one word of remonstrance, one affectionate entreaty or expostulation. It is true that the Holy Spirit alone can change the heart of man; but it has not now to be said for the first time, that the Christian who makes that an excuse for withholding his own efforts, is like the husbandman who should refuse to sow the seed because he could not cause it to grow, or ensure the harvest. It pleases God sometimes that the seed should be sown without the aid of human means; that it should spring up far from all kindred soil, like the Shittah-tree in the desert; but oftener, perhaps, it seems good in his sight to employ the instrumentality of others; and it is the bounden duty of the people of God to view all unconverted persons with whom they may associate, not with indifferenceas those differing from them in the object and pursuits of life, still less with dislike but with the sympathy with which the shipwrecked sailor brought safe to shore would view the sufferers yet clinging to the sinking vessel, and with the same anxiety that they also should be saved. Not that shipwrecked sailors can be compared to souls alienated from God, and under the dominion of sin; for the former are conscious of their danger, which the latter are not; they are rather like the inmates of a lonely house, asleep in perfect fearlessness of evil, whilst the waters of the swollen river, which has overflowed its banks, rise higher and higher, cutting off more effectually every moment the retreat of the unhappy inhabitants, who are insensible to the impending danger. The light that burns in the quiet room shews no movement within, betokening either their knowledge of their situation or their fear; all is hushed in calm and fatal security, until the flood shall come and take them all away (Luke, xvii.); or until perhaps, awakened too late, their cries for help shall be heard with awe by those who rest upon their beds in peace. Thus it is with all who have no hope in God: the flood of time rises higher and higher every hour, and will soon carry us away. Let it then be the desire of every Christian, that they who sleep the sleep which is the precursor of spiritual death, should be awakened. It is the office of the ministers of Christ to preach the Gospel; but it is also written, "Let him that heareth say, Come." But if it is the duty of a Christian to be thus intent upon the welfare of others, he is also especially called to watch upon his own post. A warfare, a race, a pilgrimage, are comparisons continually made use of in the Bible to describe the situation of the people of God in this world; each of them denoting danger, privation, and the necessity of constant exertion. Watch, then, through all the trying scenes of life; watch for the hour of death; watch for the day of judgment. 'Religion," as it has been remarked, " is the tie which binds man to God, and implies both a knowledge and love of him." The Christian, then, lives in the world mindful of God; he is awake to his purposes, so far as they are disclosed in the written word, with respect to the present circumstances and future destination of man. The veiled Fates, whom the heathen set up as queens over the destiny of the human race, have lost but little of their power in the eyes of those who, far from regarding the world as under the government of God, refer all things to the operation of secondary causes, and are apt to allege for the vicissitudes of events any reason except the determinate councils of Him against whose government they rebel. It is true the purposes of God are ordinarily effected by human agency; still, we are not to lose sight of his controlling power. We possess in the Bible a treasure of knowledge concerning the history of the world, and should not shut our eyes upon the past and present dealings of God towards man, as though it was a matter which concerned us not. Our ear perhaps is not open to hear the trumpets of prophecy whilst they are sounding; but we are permitted to trace the majestic march of events, which has long brought to pass the things concerning which it was written that they "should be ;" and to watch with deep attention the course of human affairs, which appear to tend towards the hastening of those of which it is still written that they" shall be." It is, however, still more profitable and useful to ourselves to be observant of the providence of God as relates to the daily occurrences of life. This knowledge is not only desirable for its excellency, but for the peace and comfort it instils into the heart. Our Saviour has said, "Even the very hairs of your head are all numbered:" we cannot therefore for a moment doubt, that we have a right to console ourselves with the assurance that God is ever watching over us. If we studied the lives of individuals recorded in the Bible, we should find them replete with lessons upon this subject; and we should there see every thing ascribed to the ordering of God. The life of David, being given more at length than that of most others, is full of instruction; and it is a useful study, especially for those who are careful and troubled about many things, to note the several occurrences recorded concerning him, and compare them with the Psalms of mingled prayer and thanksgiving which he composed upon those occasions such as the following: 1 Sam. xxii. 1, Ps. lvii.; 1 Sam. xix. 2, Ps. lix.; 1 Sam. xxi. 10, Ps. lv. ; 2 Sam. viii. 3, 13, 1 Chron. xviii. 3, 12, 1 Sam. xxiii. 14, 15, Ps. Ixiii. Amongst the number with which the Bible abounds, the life of Hezekiah might also be selected as an example of the many practical lessons which may be learnt from studying scriptural biography. When he ascended the throne, strong in the confidence he reposed in God, we see him setting at nought the favour or the fear of man, cutting down the groves, destroying the images, and removing the high places,—although he must by so doing have drawn down upon himself the hatred and enmity of numbers,-and breaking off all alliance with the heathen nations, according to the commandment (Deut. vii. 2, 4), although the almost certain consequences were the immediate invasion of his territories; " and the Lord was with him, and he prospered." For fourteen years he appears to have reigned in peace. So greatly was he favoured, that we see him interceding with God for the pardon of the people, and he was heard (2 Chron. xxx. 20). But when Sennacherib, with a mighty host, came against him, the faith of the king of Judah failed; and he rested his hope of deliverance, not upon God, but upon himself, and purposed to buy the forbearance of the Assyrian king with a tribute of gold and silver. But when this vain resource failed, and the heathen host encamped near Jerusalem, Hezekiah, in the extremity of his danger, returned unto the Lord, and sought and found deliverance (2 Kings, xix. 14, 20): thus exemplifying the words of the prophet Jeremiah (xvii. 5-8). We next behold him sick unto death, and receiving from the prophet the warning that he should "not live;" but Hezekiah turned his face unto the wall, and prayed; and before the prophet had reached his own dwelling, he received a commandment to return, and announce the acceptance of the prayer; and Hezekiah joyfully praised the Lord. "It is exceeding pleasant," says Flavel, in his excellent treatise upon the mystery of Providence," to behold the resurrection of our own prayers and hopes as from the dead;" but, alas, when they rise up in the likeness of blessings, we are apt not to recognise them. The giving of thanks is constantly inculcated upon us; "Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving" (Col. iv. 2). There is often, however, a great disproportion between our prayers and our thanksgivings; we continually sit down in the quiet enjoyment of the very things we have prayed for, without one grateful acknowledgment for them. Like the nine lepers, we go away healed, without returning to give glory to God; and this, not so much perhaps from want of faith, as from want of Christian watchfulness; that the events of life pass us by, not indeed unnoticed-for we are anxious and careful enoughbut not looked upon through the glass of God's providence, with a view to their design, or their effect upon us, or our right use and improvement of them. It has been said, "Salvation Comes mounted on the wings of meditation ;"* and certainly vigilance is an absolute requisite in Christians, as well to enjoy their privileges as to improve them. There are several other incidents in the life of Hezekiah capable of affording us practical lessons in the common duties and temptations of every-day life; but the subject is too extensive to be more than slightly alluded to in the limits of these columns. Our Acknowledging the total dependence of man upon God, and living in the remembrance of it, let us also watch in the ordinary concerns of life to do what God requires of us. As no events should be referred to secondary causes only, so no actions should be done with a view to secondary motives. To please God in all things should be the constant endeavour of a Christian: "whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men." The lives of the generality of individuals pass away in trifling actions; but to him who is on the watch to do them as unto God, they are no longer trifling; nor are they even so in themselves as regards mankind. The vast amount of human sin and transgression may be said to be composed of the atoms of individual character. Saviour hath said, "he that is not with me is against me; he that gathereth not with me scattereth abroad." There is no neutrality: if we are not employed in doing good both to ourselves and others, we are certainly employed in doing mischief, whether we know it or not: we are either contributing the mite of our individual character to the advancement of holiness, to the spread of that light which, Christ has commanded, should shine before men, that they may see our good works, and glorify our Father which is in heaven; or we are putting out our hand, however feeble and slight its force may be, to help the multitude who are dragging the triumphal car of the idol Mammon through the world. As it is among the common duties and ordinary concerns of life we are daily tempted to serve sin, it is amongst them we must watch against it. The faithful porter who keeps the gate does not probably expect an army to besiege his master's dwelling. Temptation does not always come in the likeness of an overwhelming host: it oftener presents itself day by day amongst common cares and common duties. One sin, however small, which is constantly admitted and indulged, is like a traitor in a garrison, who, if he be but a child, can open the door to the mighty enemy without. To be effectual, this watchfulness must also be persevering: the Christian who is apt to lay it aside, is like a man who has been long rowing against the stream, and, pausing to rest upon his oars, is suddenly carried far back again by the strength of the current. It must also be in the spirit of constant dependence upon God, a daily "looking George Herbert. unto Jesus;" the faithful watch must be a watch unto prayer. Still this should be an incitement to diligence, not indolence, in our Christian calling: we know that all the bones of our frame were knit together by him; that in him "we live, and move, and have our being;" and without him we could not draw another breath; yet we do not hesitate to make ample use of all our physical powers directly there is a desired object to be attained. So let it be with the faculties of our soul: we know they are entirely dependent upon God, and that we cannot "come to Christ," nor walk in his ways, "except the Father draw us;" yet our Saviour hath said, "Seek, strive, watch." Let us then be earnest, active, diligent, to grow both in Christian grace and knowledge, and to make a good use of our time and opportunities, and of every gift which has been entrusted to us, that we may be enabled to say, "Lord, thou deliveredst unto me two talents: behold, I have gained two other talents besides them." And while we confess, with the deepest humility, that without Christ we can do nothing, let us also rejoice in the assured confidence that "all things are possible to him that believeth." THE CAMEL.* With Of all animals, the camel perhaps is most exactly adapted both to those peculiar regions of the earth in which it is principally, if not exclusively, found; and to those purposes for which it is usually employed by man, to whose wants indeed it is so completely accommodated, and apparently so incapable of existing without his superintendence, that while, on the one hand, we find the camel described in the earliest records of history, and in every subsequent period, as in a state of subjugation to man, and employed for precisely the same purposes as at the present day; on the other hand, it does not appear that the species has ever existed in a wild or independent state. scarcely any natural means of defence, and nearly useless in the scheme of creation, (as far as we can judge,) unless as the slave of man, it forms a remarkable parallel to the sheep, the ox, and other of the ruminating species, which are also rarely, if ever, found but under the protection of man, and to that protection alone are indebted, indeed, for their existence as a distinct species. Let us compare, then, the form, and structure, and moral qualities of the camel, with the local character of the regions in which it is principally found; and with the nature of the services exacted of it by man. The sandy deserts of Arabia are the classical country of the camel; but it is also extensively employed in various other parts of Asia, and in the north of Africa: and the constant communication that exists between the tribes which border on the intervening sea of sand could only be maintained by an animal possessing such qualities as characterise the camel-" the ship of the desert," as it has emphatically been called. Laden with the various kinds of merchandise which are the object of commerce in that region of the world, and of which a part often passes from the most easterly countries of Asia to the extreme limits of western Europe, and from thence even across the Atlantic to America, this extraordinary animal pursues its steady course over burning sands during many successive weeks. And not only is it satisfied with the scanty herbage which it gathers by the way, but often passes many days without meeting with a single spring of water in which to slake its thirst. In explanation of its fitness, as a beast of burden, for such desert tracts of sand, its feet and its stomach are the points in its structure which are principally calculated to arrest our attention and its feet are not less remarkably accommodated to the road over which it travels, than is the structure of its • From Dr. Kidd's Bridgewater Treatise. : stomach to the drought of the region through which that road passes. The foot of the camel, in fact, is so formed, that the camel would be incapable of travelling with any ease or steadiness over either a rough or a stony surface; and equally incapable is it of travelling for any long continuance over moist ground, in consequence of the inflammation produced in its limbs from the effect of moisture. It is observed by Cuvier, that these circumstances in its physical history, and not the incapability of bearing a colder temperature, account for the fact, that while the sheep, the ox, the dog, the horse, and some other species, have accompanied the migrations of man from his aboriginal seat in central Asia to every habitable part of the globe, the camel still adheres to the desert. And now observe how its interior structure meets the difficulty of a region where water is rarely found. As in the case of all other animals which ruminate or chew the cud, the stomach of the camel consists of several compartments, of which one is divided into numerous distinct cells, capable of collectively containing such a quantity of water as is sufficient for the ordinary consumption of the animal during many days. And, as opportunities occur, the camel instinctively replenishes this reservoir; and is thus enabled to sustain a degree of external drought, which would be destructive to all other animals but such as have a similar structure: nor is any other animal of the old world known to possess this peculiar structure. But if we pass to the inhabited regions of the Andes in the new world, we there meet with several species of animals, as the lama, the vigogna, and the alpaca, which, though much smaller than the camel, correspond generally in their anatomy with that animal, and particularly with reference to the 'structure of the stomach they resemble also the camel in docility; and, to complete the parallel, they were employed by the aboriginal inhabitants in the new world for the same purposes as the camel in the old. Of the two species of camel, the Bactrian and Arabian, the latter is that with the history of which we are best acquainted; and though there is reason to believe, that whatever is said of the qualities of the one might with truth be affirmed of the other also, on the present occasion whatever is said is referable to the Arabian species. The camel, then, not only consumes less food than the horse, but can sustain more fatigue. A large camel is capable of carrying from seven to twelve hundred weight, and travelling with that weight on its back, at the rate of above ten leagues in each day. The small courier-camel, carrying no weight, will travel thirty leagues in each day, provided the ground be dry and level. Individuals of each variety will subsist for eight or ten successive days on dry thorny plants; but after this period require more nutritious food, which is usually supplied in the form of dates and various artificial preparations; though, if not so supplied, the camel will patiently continue its course, till nearly the whole of the fat of which the boss on its back consists is absorbed; whereby that protuberance becomes, as it were, obliterated. The camel is equally patient of thirst as of hunger; and this happens, no doubt, in consequence of the supply of fluid which it is capable of obtaining from the peculiar reservoir contained in its stomach. It possesses, moreover, a power and delicacy in the sense of smell, (to that sense at least such a power • The Bactrian species, which has two bosses on its back, is more peculiar to Tartary and northern Asia. The Arabian, which has only one boss, is not confined to the country from which it is named, but is the same species with that which prevails in northern Africa. As in the case of all domesticated animals, the varieties of these two species are numerous: and it is a variety of the Arabian species, of a small height, to which the ancients gave the name of dromedary, from its employment as a courier; but in the magnificent work of St. Hilaire and Cuvier (Hist. Nat. des Mammifères), the term dromedary is adopted, in a specific sense, for all the varieties of the Arabian camel. is most naturally referable,) by which, after having thirsted seven or eight days, it perceives the existence of water at a very considerable distance; and it manifests this power by running directly to the point where the water exists. It is obvious that this faculty is exerted as much to the benefit of their drivers, and the whole suite of the caravan, as of the camels themselves. Such are some of the leading advantages derived to man from the physical structure and powers of this animal. Nor are those advantages of slight moment which are derived from its docile and patient disposition. It is no slight advantage, for instance, considering the great height of the animal, which usually exceeds six or seven feet, that the camel is easily taught to bend down its body on its limbs, in order to be laden; and, indeed, if the weight to be placed on its back be previously so distributed as to be balanced on an intervening yoke of a convenient form, it will spontaneously direct its neck under the yoke, and afterwards transfer the weight to its back. But it would be found, upon pursuing the history of the camel, that, while under the point of view which has been just considered, this animal contributes more largely to the advantages of mankind than any other species of the ruminating order, it scarcely is inferior to any one of those species with respect to other advantages on account of which they are principally valuable. Thus, the Arab obtains from the camel not only milk, and cheese, and butter, but he ordinarily also eats its flesh, and fabricates its hair into clothing of various kinds. The very refuse indeed of the digested food of the animal is the principal fuel of the desert; and from the smoke of this fuel is obtained the well-known substance called sal ammoniac, which is very extensively employed in the arts; and of which, indeed, formerly, the greater part met with in commerce was obtained from this source alone, as may be implied from its very name.' The Cabinet. CONFORMITY TO CHRIST.-If we have in us any truth and sincerity, and do not vainly prevaricate in our profession of being Christ's disciples, and votaries of that holy institution, let us manifest it by a real conformity to the practice of him who is our Master, and Author of our faith. If we have in us any wisdom, or sober consideration of things, let us employ it in following the steps of that infallible guide, designed by heaven to lead us in the straight, even, and pleasant ways of righteousness, unto the possession of everlasting bliss. If we do verily like and approve the practice of Christ, and are affected with the innocent, sweet, and lovely comeliness thereof, let us declare such our mind by a sedulous care to resemble it. If we bear any honour and reverence, any love and affection to Christ; if we are at all sensible of our relations, our manifold obligations, our duties, to our great Lord, our best Friend, our most gracious Redeemer; let us testify it by a zealous care to become like to him,. let a lively image of his most righteous and innocent, most holy and pious, most pure and spotless life be ever present to our fancies; so as to form our judgments, to excite our affections, to quicken our endeavours, to regulate our purposes, to correct our mistakes, to direct, amend, and sanctify our whole lives. Let us with incessant diligence of study meditate on the best of histories, wherein the tenor of his divine practice is represented to us; revolving frequently in our thoughts all the most considerable passages thereof, entertaining them with devout passions, impressing them on our memories, and striving to express them in our conversations: let us endeavour continually to Ammon, an ancient name of that part of the African desert situate to the west of Egypt, supplied formerly much of the sal ammoniac of commerce. |