consists in the pursuit, much more than in the attainment, of any temporal good. Rest is agreeable; but it is only from preceding labours that rest requires its true relish. When the mind is suffered to remain in continued inaction, all its powers decay. It soon languishes and sickens; and the pleasures which it proposed to obtain from rest end in tediousness and insipidity. To this, let that miserable set of men bear witness, who, after spending great part of their life in active industry, have retired to what they fancied was to be a pleasing enjoyment of themselves in wealthy inactivity and profound repose. Where they expected to find an elysium, they have found nothing but a dreary and comfortless waste. Their days have dragged on in uniform languor; with the melancholy remembrance often returning, of the cheerful hours they passed, when they were engaged in the honest business and labours of the world.

We appeal to every one who has the least knowledge or observation of life, whether the busy, or the idle, have the most agreeable enjoyment of themselves? Compare them in their families. Compare them in the societies with which they mingle; and remark which of them discover most cheerfulness and gaiety; which possess the most regular flow of spirits; whose temper is most equal; whose good humour most unclouded. While the active and diligent both enliven and enjoy society, the idle are not only a burden to themselves, but a burden to those with whom they are connected; a nuisance to all whom they oppress with their company. On whom does time hang so heavy, as on the slothful and lazy? To whom are the hours so lingering? Who are so often devoured with spleen; are obliged to fly to every expedient which can help them to get rid of themselves? Instead of producing tranquillity, indo

lence produces a fretful restlessness of mind; gives rise to cravings which are never satisfied; nourishes a sickly effeminate delicacy, which sours and corrupts every pleasure.

Enough has now been said to convince every thinking person of the folly, the guilt, and the misery, of an idle state. Let these admonitions stir us up to exert ourselves in our dif-' ferent occupations, with that virtuous activity which becomes men and Christians. Let us arise from the bed of sloth; distribute our time with attention and care; and improve to advantage the opportunities which Providence has bestowed. The material business in which our several stations engage us, may often prove not sufficient to occupy the whole of our time and attention. In the life even of busy men, there are frequent intervals of leisure. Let them take care, that into these, none of the vices of idleness creep. Let some secondary, some subsidiary employment, of a fair and laudable kind, be always at hand to fill up those vacant spaces of life, which too many assign, either to corrupting amusements, or to mere inaction. We ought never to forget, that entire idleness always borders either on misery or on guilt.

At the same time, let the course of our employments be ordered in such a manner, that in carrying them on, we may be also promoting our eternal interest. With the business of the world, let us properly intermix the exercises of devotion. exercises of devotion. By religious duties and virtuous actions, let us study to prepare ourselves for a better world. In the midst of our labours for this life, it is never to be forgotten, that we must first seek the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and give diligence to make our calling and election sure. Otherwise, how active soever we may seem to be, our whole activity will prove only a laborious idleness: we shall appear, in the end,

X

ror into the heart of the greatest criminal, in the midst of his misdeeds. While this principle of religion thus checks and terrifies the sinner, it produces also another effect, that of strengthening and comforting the good man in the practice of his duty. It is the influence of the Divine presence on good men which, in consequence of the Psalmist's sentiment, I purpose to consider. To their character it belongs to be continually with God. I shall endeavour to shew the high benefit and comfort which they derive from such a habit of mind; and shall, for this end, first consider their internal moral state; and next, view them as they are affected by several of the external accidents and situations of life.

Let us begin with considering them in their internal state. The belief of the Divine Presence acts upon them here, first, as an incitement to virtue. The presence of one whom we highly esteem and revere, of a sovereign for instance, a father, or a friend, whose approbation we are solicitous to gain, is always found to exalt the powers of men, to refine and improve their behaviour. Hence, it has been given as a rule, by ancient moralists, that in order to excel in virtue, we should propound to ourselves some person of eminent and distinguished worth; and should accustom ourselves to act as if he were standing by and beholding us. To the esteem and approbation of their fellow-creatures, none are insensible. There are few who, in the conspicuous parts of their life, when they know the eyes of the public to be fixed on them, act not their part with propriety and decorum. But what is the observation of the public; what is the presence of the greatest or wisest men on earth, to that presence of the Divinity which constantly surrounds us? The man who realizes to his mind this august Presence, feels a constant incentive

for acquitting himself with dignity. He views himself as placed on an illustrious theatre. To have the Almighty for the spectator and witness of his conduct, is more to him than if the whole world were assembled to observe him. Men judge often falsely, always imperfectly, of what passes before them. They are imposed on by specious appearances; and the artful carry away the praise which is due to the deserving. Even supposing them to judge fairly, we may want the opportunity of doing justice to our character, by any proper display of it in the sight of the world. Our situation may bury in obscurity those talents and virtues which were entitled to command the highest esteem. But He, in whose presence the good man acts, is both an impartial, and an unerring, judge of worth. No fallacious appearances impose on him. No secret virtue is hidden from him. He is attentive equally to the meanest and the greatest; and his approbation confers eternal rewards. The man, therefore, who sets the Lord always before him, is prompted to excel in virtue by motives which are peculiar to himself, and which engage, on the side of duty, both honour and interest. I have kept thy precepts and thy testimonies; for all my ways are before thee. (Psal. cxix. 168.)

Supposing, however, his virtuous endeavours to be faithful, many imperfections will attend them. A faultless tenor of unblemished life is beyond the reach of man. Passions will sometimes overcome him; and ambition or interest, in an unguarded hour, will turn him aside into evil. Hence he will be ashamed of himself, and disquieted by a sense of guilt and folly. In this state, to which we are often reduced by the weakness of human nature, the belief of God's continual presence brings relief to the heart. It acted before as an animating principle; it now acts as a prin

ciple of comfort. In the midst of many imperfections, a virtuous man appeals to his Divine Witness for the sincerity of his intentions. He can appeal to him who knows his frame, that in the general train of his conduct, it is his study to keep the law of God.

Mere law, among men, is rigid and inflexible. As no human lawgiver can look into the hearts of his subjects, he cannot, even though he were ever present with them, estimate their character exactly. He can make no allowance for particular situations. He must prescribe the same terms to all whom he rules; and treat all alike, according to their outward actions. But every minute diversity of character, temper, and situation, is known to God. It is not only from what his servants do, but from what they seek to do, that he forms his judgment of them. He attends to all those circumstances which render the trial of their virtue, at any time, peculiarly hard. He hears the whisper of devotion as it rises in the soul. He beholds the tear of contrition which falls in secret. He sees the good intention struggling in its birth; and pursues it, in its progress, through those various obstacles which may prevent it from ripening into action. Good men, therefore, in their most humbled and dejected state, draw some consolation from his knowledge of their heart. Though they may sometimes have erred from the right path, they can look up to him who is ever with them, and say as an apostle, who had grievously offended, once said to his great Master, Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee. (John xxi. 17.)

Appealing thus to their omniscient Witness, they are naturally soothed and encouraged by the hope of his clemency. At the same time, it is the peculiar advantage of this sentiment of the Divine presence, that it

prevents such hope from flattering | them too much, or rising into undue presumption. For while it encourages, it tends also to humble, a pious man. If it encourage him by the reflection on all his good dispositions being known and attended to by God, it humbles him by the remembrance, that his secret sins also are ever in the light of the Divine countenance. So that, by dwelling under the sense of God being continually with us, we keep alive the proper temper of a Christian in the soul; humility without dejection; fear mingled with hope. We are cheered, without being lifted up. We feel ourselves obnoxious to the all-observing eye of justice; but are comforted with the thoughts of that mercy which, through Jesus Christ, the discerner of all hearts holds forth to the sincere and penitent. Such are the blessed effects which this principle of religion produces upon the inward moral state Let us now,

of a good man.

In the second place, consider his external circumstances, and examine the influence which the same principle has upon his happiness, in several different situations of life.

Let us first view him in what the world calls prosperity; when his circumstances are easy and affluent, and and his life flows in a smooth untroubled stream. Here it might be thought, that a sense of the Divine presence could operate upon him only, or chiefly, for promoting temperance, and restraining the disorders incident to a prosperous state. Valuable effects, indeed, these are; and most conducive to the true enjoyment of all that is agreeable in life. But though it, doubtless, does exert this salutary influence, yet it stops not there. It not only preserves the virtue of a good man amidst the temptations of pleasure, but it gives to his prosperity a security, and a peculiar relish, which to others is unknown.

He who is without a sense of God upon his mind, beholds in human affairs nothing but a perpetual fluctuation, and vicissitude of events. He is surrounded with unknown causes, which may be working his destruction in secret. He cannot avoid perceiving that there hangs over him the irresistible arm of that Providence, whose displeasure he has done.nothing to stay or avert. But he who, in the days of prosperity, dwells with God, is delivered from those disquieting alarms. He dwells as with a friend and protector, from whom he conceives his blessings to proceed. He can appeal to him for the thankfulness with which he receives them, and for his endeavours to employ them well.

He trusts that the God whom he serves will not forsake him; that the goodness which he has already experienced, will continue to bless him; and though he believes himself not exempted from the changes of the world, yet, in the midst of these, he has ground to hope, that sources of comfort and happiness shall always be left open to him.

Moreover, the pleasures of life, while they last, are unspeakably heightened by the presence of that Benefactor who bestows them. The pleasing emotion of gratitude to the giver, mingles with the enjoyment of the gift. While, to the mere worldly man, the whole frame of nature is only a vast irregular fabric, and the course of human affairs no more than a confused succession of fortuitous events; all nature is beautified, and every agreeable incident is enlivened, to him who beholds God in all things. Hence arise a variety of pleasing sensations, to fill up those solitary hours, in which external prosperity supplies him with no entertainment. In the smiling scenes of nature, he contemplates the benignity of its author. In its sublime objects, he admires his majesty. In its awful and terrible

ones, he adores his power. He dwells in this world as in a magnificent temple, which is full of the glory of its founder; and every where views nature offering up its incense to him, from a thousand altars. Such ideas exalt and ennoble the human mind, and reflect an additional lustre on the brightness of prosperity.

From the prosperous, let us next turn to the afflicted, condition of a good man. For as prosperity may, affliction certainly will, at one time or other, be his lot. It enters into the appointed trial of his virtue; and, in one degree or other, is the doom of all. Here we shall find various situations occur, in which no relief is equal to what a virtuous and holy man derives from a sense of the perpetual presence of God.

Is he, for instance, thrown into an obscure condition in the world, without friends to assist him, or any to regard and consider his estate? He enjoys the satisfaction of thinking, that though he may be neglected by men, he is not forgotten of God. Inconsiderable as he is in himself, he knows that he will not be overlooked by the Almighty, amidst the infinite variety of being, or lost in the immensity of his works. The poor man can, with as much encouragement as the rich or great, lift up his eyes to heaven, and say, Nevertheless, O Lord, I am continually with thee: Thou holdest me by my right hand. The gracious presence of that Supreme Being is affected by no diversity of rank or fortune. It imparts itself alike to all the virtuous and upright; like its glorious image, the sun in the firmament, which sheds its rays equally upon the humble cottage, and upon the palace of kings. In the presence of the great Lord of heaven and earth, all the distinctions which vanity has contrived to make among men totally disappear. All ranks are on one level. The rich and the poor here, indeed,