to the displeasure of the Almighty, than a malignant and censorious spirit. I insist not now on the general denunciations of divine wrath against malice and hatred. Let us Let us only consider under what particular description the Spirit of God brings this crime of uncharitable judgment. It is declared to be an impious invasion of the prerogative of God, to whom alone it belongs to search all hearts, and to determine all characters. This privilege He often appropriates expressly to himself, on purpose to restrain the rashness of censure among men; requiring us to leave the judgment of others to Him, and to attend to our own business and duty. Who art thou that judgest another man's servant? To his own master, he standeth or falleth. Judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who shall make manifest the counsels of the heart. (Rom. xiv. 4; 1 Cor. iv. 5.)

It deserves our most serious attention, that in several passages of Scripture, the great Judge of the world is represented, at the day of final retribution, as proceeding upon this principle, of rendering to men according to the manner in which they have acted towards their brethren. With the merciful thou wilt shew thyself merciful; and with the froward, thou wilt shew thyself froward. With what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. (Psal. xviii. 25, 26; Matt. vii. 2.) It is impossible to form an argument of more force than this, to restrain all severity of judgment among such as look forward to the tribunal of God. The argument extends not indeed so far, as to represent our acceptance with the Deity as entirely suspended upon the candour which we shew in forming our sentiments of others. We know that other graces besides this are requisite, in order to fit us

for heaven; and that without piety towards God, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, all our charity to men will be found defective and vain. But this we know also, that in the heart which is destitute of fairness and candour, the Spirit of God certainly dwells not; and that whatever appearances of religion the uncharitable man may assume, on him the Sovereign of the universe looks with no favour.-Thou, who art a man full of frailties, who standest in need, not merely of impartiality in thy divine Judge, but of indulgence and mercy; thou, who implorest daily this mercy from Him, and prayest that He would remember thou art dust, and not be strict to mark iniquity against thee; darest thou, with those very prayers in thy mouth, proceed to judge without candour of thy brethren, and upon the slightest grounds to reprobate and condemn them? O thou hypocrite! (for by what other name can we call thee?) vain are all thy pretensions to piety. Ineffectual is every plea which thou canst form for mercy from Heaven. The precedent which thou hast established against thyself is decisive. Thou hast dictated the sentence of thy own condemnation.

On the whole, it clearly appears that no part of the government of temper deserves attention more, than to keep our minds pure from uncharitable prejudices, and open to candour and humanity in judging of others. The worst consequences, both to ourselves and to society, follow from the opposite spirit. Let us beware of encouraging a habit of suspicions, by forming too severe and harsh opinions concerning human nature in general. A great proportion of infirmity and corruption, doubtless, adheres to it; yet tempered also as it is with various mixtures of virtue and good affection. Darkened as the Divine Image now

prison by the artifice of a false woman, his integrity and prudence soon rendered him conspicuous, even in that dark mansion. When called into the presence of Pharaoh, the wise and extensive plan which he formed for saving the kingdom from the miseries of impending famine, justly raised him to a high station, wherein his abilities were eminently displayed in the public service. But in his whole history there is no circumstance so striking and interesting, as his behaviour to his brethren who had sold him into slavery. The moment in which he made himself known to them, that moment at which we are now to contemplate him, was the most critical one of his life, and the most decisive of his character. It is such as rarely occurs in the course of human events; and is calculated to draw the highest attention of all who are endowed with any degree of sensibility of heart. Let us consider the sentiment which Joseph utters in the text under two views, each of which is very instructive to all Christians. I. As a discovery of his cordial forgiveness of his brethren; and, II. As an instance of his dutiful attention to the providence of God.

I. The most cordial forgiveness is here displayed. I shall not recapitulate all the preceding history respecting Joseph and his brethren; as it is well known by every one who has the least acquaintance with the sacred writings. From the whole tenor of the narration it appears, that though Joseph, upon the arrival of his brethren in Egypt, made himself strange to them, yet from the beginning he intended to discover himself; and studied so to conduct the discovery as might render the surprise of joy complete. For this end, by affected severity, he took measures for bringng down into Egypt all his father's children. They were now arrived there; and Benjamin among the rest,

who was his younger brother by the same mother, and was particularly beloved by Joseph. Him he threatened to detain; and seemed willing to allow the rest to depart. This incident renewed their distress. They all knew their father's extreme anxiety about the safety of Benjamin, and with what difficulty he had yielded to his undertaking this journey. Should he be prevented from returning, they dreaded that grief would overpower the old man's spirits, and prove fatal to his life. Judah, therefore, who had particularly urged the necessity of Benjamin's accompanying his brothers, and had solemnly pledged himself to their father for his safe return, craved, upon this occasion, an audience of the governor, and gave him a full account of the circumstances of Jacob's family.

Nothing can be more interesting and pathetic than this discourse of Judah, as it is recorded in the preceding chapter. Little knowing to whom he spoke, he paints, in all the colours of simple and natural eloquence, the distressed situation of the aged patriarch, hastening to the close of life; long afflicted for the loss of a favourite son, whom he supposed to have been torn in pieces by a beast of prey; labouring now under anxious concern about his youngest son, the child of his old age, who alone was left alive of his mother, and whom nothing but the calamities of severe famine could have moved a tender father to send from home, and expose to the dangers of a foreign land. If we bring him not back with us, we shall bring down the gray hairs of thy servant, our father, with sorrow to the grave. I pray thee, therefore, let thy servant abide instead of the young man, a bondman to our lord. For how shall I go up to my father, and Benjamin not with me? lest I sec the evil that shall come on my father.

Upon this relation, Joseph could

no longer restrain himself. The tender ideas of his father and his father's house, of his ancient home, his country, and his kindred, of the distress of his family, and his own exaltation, all rushed too strongly upon his mind to bear any farther concealment. He cried, Cause every man to go out from me; and he wept aloud. The tears which he shed were not the tears of grief. They were the bursts of affection. They were the effusions of a heart overflowing with all the tender sensibilities of nature. Formerly he had been moved in the same manner, when he first saw his brethren before him. His bowels yearned upon them: he sought for a place where to weep. He went into his chamber; and then washed his face and returned to them. At that period, his generous plans were not completed. But now, when there was no farther occasion for constraining himself, he gave free vent to the strong emotions of his heart. The first minister to the king of Egypt was not ashamed to shew that he felt as a man, and a brother. He wept aloud, and the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh heard him.

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The first words which his swelling heart allowed him to pronounce, are the most suitable to such an affecting situation which were ever uttered ;I am Joseph: doth my father yet live? --What could he, what ought he, in that impassioned moment to have said more? this is the voice of nature herself, speaking her own language; and it penetrates the heart; no pomp of expression; no parade of kindness; but strong affection hastening to utter what it strongly felt. brethren could not answer him; for they were troubled at his presence. Their silence is as expressive of those emotions of repentance and shame, which, on this amazing discovery, filled their breasts, and stopped their utterance, as the few words which Joseph speaks

His

are expressive of the generous agitations which struggle for vent within him. No painter could seize a more striking moment for displaying the characteristical features of the human heart than what is here presented. Never was there a situation of more tender and virtuous joy, on the one hand; nor, on the other, of more overwhelming confusion and conscious guilt. In the simple narration of the sacred historian, it is set before us with greater energy and higher effect, than if it had been wrought up with all the colouring of the most admired modern eloquence.

When Joseph had a little recovered himself from the first transports of emotion, he proceeds to explain his situation to his brethren, and to shew them the beneficent purposes for which he conceived himself to be raised by Providence into power. The apology which he makes in the text for their former cruelty is uncommon and remarkable. Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither; for God did send me before you to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance. So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God; and he hath made a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house, and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt. This apology was, in truth, no satis、 factory excuse for their crime; for though the overruling providence of Heaven had so directed the course of events as to render their bad intentions subservient to a happy issue, yet the badness of the intention originated entirely from themselves. The envy and jealousy which they entertained against their brother, led them to the commission of an atrocious deed. The deed was voluntary; the crime was all their own; and the interposition of Providence in making unforeseen consequences follow from that crime, did not, could not, exculpate them

from guilt. It were an impious conclusion, that because God extracts good from our evil, we are not answerable for the evil which we perpetrate. God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man. (James i. 13.) But the sentiment in the text is to be considered as a colour which the generous humanity of Joseph prompted him to throw on the conduct of his brethren. He saw the confusion with which they were overwhelmed in his presence. He diverts their attention from the remembrance of a crime which was now wringing their hearts with anguish, by representing to them the happy effects which that crime had produced. He sets them free from all uneasiness on his account. He calls upon them to rejoice in his prosperity, and, instead of dwelling on a painful recollection of their own conduct, to join with him in acknowledging and adoring the hand of the Almighty.

How different is this amiable spirit which Joseph discovers, from that harsh and ostentatious superiority which too often accompanies the pretended forgiveness of injuries among those who call themselves Christians! They are ready to say, that, for their part, they pardon the wrongs which have been done them; they wish that the persons who have committed them may be able to forgive themselves; they leave them to God and their own conscience. By the severe suggestions which they throw out, they discover the inward bitterness of their spirit; and artfully gratify resentment, at the time when they profess to exercise forgiveness. Whereas the great and good man, whose character we now consider, effaces all memory of the crimes which he pardons. He seeks to alleviate the remorse of his brethren by an extenuation of their guilt; and, while he is preparing to make their circumstances comfortable, studies at the

same time to render their minds easy and tranquil.

This was not merely a transient emotion with Joseph, owing to the first burst of affection on discovering himself to his brethren. We have a clear proof, from a remarkable transaction which passed many years after this period, of his disposition continuing the same to the end of his life. It is recorded in the last chapter of this book, that when Jacob died, his sons began to be seized with fear concerning the treatment which they might receive from their brother. The guilty are always suspicious. Conscious of their own baseness, they are incapable of conceiving the magnanimity of others. They saw the bond, which held the family together, now broken by their father's death. They dreaded that the resentment of Joseph against them had hitherto been only suppressed or concealed. They said among themselves, Peradventure he will now hate us, and requite all the evil which we did unto him. Under this apprehension, they first sent an humble message to deprecate his displeasure by the memory of their common father; and then appearing in his presence, they fell down before his face, professing themselves to be his servants, and praying him to forgive the trespasses which they had committed against him. But no such hidden resentment as they dreaded had ever lurked in the soul of Joseph. On the contrary, when he beheld his brethren in this affecting situation, bereaved of their ancient protector, and reduced, as they imagined, to the necessity of holding up their hands to him for mercy, he was overpowered by a tide of tender emotions. Joseph wept while his brethren spake unto him. These affectionate tears alone were sufficient to have assured them of his forgiveness. But hastening also by words to dispel their alarms, he presently added, Fear not; for though ye