ascend frequently to Heaven for the continuance of those blessings; for the peace of our Jerusalem; for peace within her walls, and prosperity within her palaces; and let the admonition of Scripture never be forgotten, My son, fear thou God; honour the king; and meddle not with them that are given to change. (Prov. xxiv. 21. 1 Pet. ii. 17.) SERMON LXXVIII. ON A CONTENTED MIND. Say now unto her, Behold, thou hast been careful for us with all this care; what is to be done for thee? Wouldst thou be spoken for to the king, or to the captain of the host? And she answered, I dwell among mine own people.—2 Kings iv. 13. A PIOUS and respectable woman of The temper of this worthy Shunamite, who could so properly set bounds to her desires, and enjoy her present condition with contentment, is what I now propose to your imitation. It stands in opposition to that restless and discontented spirit which so often sets men at variance with their condition in the world, makes them look with contempt on that state of life and sphere of action which Providence has allotted them; and, encouraging every real or supposed discouragement to prey upon their minds, makes them pine for some change of fortune. It is proper, however, to observe, that this moderation of spirit, which I am now recommending, is not inconsistent with our having a sense of what is uneasy and distressing in our lot, and endeavouring, by fair means, to render our condition more agreeable. Entire apathy, or passive indifference to all the circumstances of our external state, is required by no precept of religion. What a virtuous degree of contentment requires and supposes, is, that, with a mind free from repining anxiety, we make the best of our condition, whatever it is: enjoying such good things as God is pleased to bestow upon us, with a render themselves unhappy in their present condition, and dissatisfied with all that belongs to it.-By this restless discontented temper, I shall proceed to shew that they incur much thankful and cheerful heart; without envy at those who appear more prosperous than us; without any attempt to alter our condition by any unfair means; and without any murmuring against the providence of Heaven.-guilt, and involve themselves in great "In that state in which it pleased folly and misery. God to place me at my birth, I am ready to remain, as long as it shall be his pleasure to continue me there. He has placed me among my equals. Such comforts as he saw meet for me to possess, he has bestowed. These I shall study to improve; and by his kind providence favouring my industry and application, I may hope they will be increased. In the mean time, I rest satisfied; and complain not. I dwell among mine own people." First, discontent carries in its nature much guilt and sin. With this consideration I begin, because I am afraid that discontentment is commonly treated, in a religious view, more slightly than it deserves. A contented temper, we are apt to say, is a great happiness to those who have it; and a discontented one, we call an unlucky turn of mind; as if we were speaking of a good or bad constitution of body, of something that depended not at all on ourselves, but was merely the gift of nature.-Ought this to be the sentiment, either of a reasonable man, or a Christian; of one who knows himself to be endowed with powers for governing his own spirit, or who believes in God, and in a world to come? What, I beseech you, do all the risings of discontent within you import, but so much concealed rebellion against the government of that Supreme Being, who hath appointed your place in the world? When you repine at your state, as below what you deserved, do you not inwardly tax Him with injustice and partiality, for conferring his favours on others more unworthy of them, and leaving you neglected and humbled? By treating with contempt the blessings he allows to your But if this acquiescence in our condition is to be considered as belonging to that contentment which religion requires, what becomes, it will be said, of that laudable ambition, which has prompted many boldly to aspire with honour and success far beyond their original state of life?— I readily admit, that on some among the sons of men, such high talents are bestowed, as mark them out by the hand of God for superior elevation; by rising to which, many, both in ancient and modern times, have had the opportunity of distinguishing themselves as benefactors to their country and to mankind. But these are only a few scattered stars that shine in a wide hemisphere; such rare examples afford no model for general conduct. It is not to persons of this description that I now speak. I address my-state, do you not, in effect, tell him, self to the multitude; to the great body of men in all the various walks of ordinary life. Them I warn of the danger of being misled, by vanity and self-conceit, to think themselves deserving of a much higher station than they possess. I warn them, not to nourish aspiring desires for objects beyond their power of attaining, or capacity of enjoying; and thereby to that his blessings are not worthy of being enjoyed, and merit no thanks, because he does not give you more ? The outward expressions of such sentiments you may suppress. You may affect to appear religious by shows of reverence and homage; but such appearances deceive not God. Every habitually discontented person is, and must be, ill-affected towards Him; nay, though he would wish to conceal it from himself, he is a secret blasphemer of the Almighty. Besides impiety, discontent carries along with it, as its inseparable concomitants, several other sinful passions. It implies pride, or an unreasonable estimation of our own merit, in comparison with others. It implies covetousness, or an inordinate desire for the advantages of external fortune, as the only real goods. It implies, and always engenders, envy, or ill-nature, and hatred, towards all whom we see rising above us in the world. Dare we treat that as a slight infirmity, or a constitutional weakness merely, which imports some of the worst dispositions and passions of the human heart?-The discontented man is never found without a great share of malignity. His spleen irritates and sours his temper, and leads him to discharge his venom on all with whom he stands connected. He can act his part well in no relation of life. In public affairs, and in private business, he is always given to fretfulness and complaint. While the man of contented mind, easy and happy in himself, is disposed for living well with others, and spreads around him that cheerfulness which he possesses; the restless discontented person is a troubler of the world; neither a good friend, nor a good neighbour, nor a good subject or citizen. In the second place, as this disposition infers much sin, so it argues great folly, and involves men in many miseries. If these be any first principle of wisdom, it is undoubtedly this: the distresses that are removable, endeavour to remove; those which cannot be removed, bear with as little disquiet as you can; in every situation of life there are comforts; find them out and enjoy them. But this maxim, in all its parts, is disregarded by the man of discontent. He is employed in aggravating his own evils; while he neglects all his own comforts.-What is it to you, though others are supposed to be happier? Very possibly they are not so; for wide is the difference between being what the world calls prosperous, and being happy. You see no more than the imposing outside of glittering fortune; while, under that gaudy cover, there may be lurking many a bitter sorrow. But supposing others to be in truth as happy as they seem to be, is there any reason, except mere viciousness of disposition, why their happiness should be a cause of your discontent and misery? Cannot you be at ease in the shade, because others are basking in the sun? What is this but the unhappy art of extracting objects that ought to be indifferent to you, materials for your own torment? "Such reasonings as these," says one, "may be specious and plausible; but what avail reasonings to set me at ease, who every day feel myself hurt and sore from the scorn of those above me; who am condemned to behold them shining in all the pomp and splendour of life; while I, through the injustice of the world, am left in obscurity to toil for a scanty subsistence?"—Accuse not the world, my brother. Imagine not, that it is entirely the injustice of the world which produces your unhappiness. The disease lies within yourself. It originates from your pride and self-conceit, joined with the false opinions you have allowed yourself to entertain of the distinctions of fortune. Those distinctions must take place in every established society. There must be inequality of ranks; and of course a diversity of outward appearance among men. But it is in the outward appearance that the diversity lies, far more than in what is intrinsic to happiness and well-being.— You dwell among your own people. In that rank where Providence had | ing and accusing thoughts? How placed you, you are living among your friends and equals; and pursuing that train of life to which you have been bred. But you are eager and restless, till from this quiet obscurity you can rise to some higher elevation, to which you fancy yourself entitled.-Are you aware of the dangers and troubles that would await you there? Supposing you to be in some degree successful, yet with your new rank of life, would not new burdens begin to oppress you, and new and unknown cares to vex you? How many rivals would you have to encounter? How many slanderers to decry you? How many enemies to combine in opposing you? What mortification would you endure on every disappointment you met with? And on every small step of advancement, what envy would still remain in looking up to those who continued above you? Till, at last, tired with the vexations of competition, you should be forced to regret the day when discontent drove you away from dwelling among your own people. -Awake, then, in time, from the dreams of ambition and vanity. Instead of aspiring beyond your proper level, bring down your mind to your state; lest, by aiming too high, you spend your life in a train of fruitless pursuits, and bring yourself at last to a state of entire insignificance and contempt. Let it be farther considered, in order to shew the folly of a discontented temper, that the more it is indulged, it disqualifies you the more from being freed from the grounds of your discontent. First, you have reason to apprehend, that it will turn the displeasure of God against you, and make him your enemy. For, what have you to expect from that Providence towards which you are so sullen and unthankful; from that God, whose perfections you injure by your repin much is it in his power to render you ten times more unhappy than you are at present, by taking away those remaining comforts, which, by your contempt of them, you shew yourelf unworthy to enjoy? Next, by your spleen and discontent, you are certain of bringing yourself into variance with the world as well as with God. Such a temper is likely to create enemies; it can procure you no friends. Proud, jealous, and dissatisfied with those around you, you will, in return, be avoided, disliked, and looked upon by them with an evil eye; the discouragements from the world, of which you complain, will daily increase; while the humble, the cheerful, and contented, will, on every occasion, get before you, and attract the good-will of all who can assist them. Such being the mischiefs, such the guilt and the folly of indulging a discontented spirit, I shall now suggest some considerations which may assist us in checking it, and in reconciling our minds to the state in which it has pleased Providence to place us. Let us, for this purpose, attend to three great objects; to God, to ourselves, and to the world around us. First, let us speak of God, of his perfections, and government of the world, from which, to every person of reflection who believes in God at all, there cannot but arise some cure to the discontents and griefs of the heart. For, had it been left to ourselves what to devise or wish, in order to secure peace to us in every state, what could we have invented so effectual as the assurance of being under the government of an Almighty Ruler, whose conduct to his creatures can have no other object but their good and welfare?-Above all, and independent of all, He can have no temptation to injustice or partiality. Neither jealousy nor envy can dwell with the Supreme Being. He is a rival to none, he is an enemy to none, except to such as, by rebellion against his laws, seek enmity with him. He is equally above envying the greatest, or despising the meanest of his subjects. His dispensations, it is true, are often dark and unaccountable to us; but we know the reason of this to be, that we see only a part of them, and are not yet able to comprehend the whole. This we well know, that we ourselves are often the very worst judges of what is good or ill for us in this life. We grasp at the present, without due regard to consequences: and whether these consequences are to carry the advantages we had promised ourselves, or be pregnant with future evils, is what we cannot foresee. Experience has taught us a thousand times, that God judges better for us than we judge for ourselves. Often have we seen, that what we considered at the time as a sore disappointment, has proved in the issue to be a merciful providence; and that, if what we once eagerly wished for had been obtained, it would have been so far from making us happy, that it would have produced our ruin.-The reflection of Solomon, Who knoweth what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain life, which he spendeth as a shadow? (Eccles. vi. 12.) should often occur to every one who is given to discontent. Placed as we are, in the midst of so much ignorance with respect to the means of happiness, and at the same time under the government of a wise and gracious Being, who alone is able to effect our happiness, acquiescence in his disposal of our lot, is the only disposition that becomes us as rational creatures. To fret and repine at every disappointment of our wishes, is to discover the temper of froward children, not of men, far less of Christians. Christians, amidst all their grievances, have ever these promises to comfort them; that if they cast their care upon God, he will care for them; that out of evil he bringeth forth good; nay, that at last he shall make all things work together for good to them who love him. In the second place, in order to correct discontent, let us attend to ourselves and our own state. Let us consider two things there; how little we deserve, and how much we enjoy. As to deserving in the sight of God, the great disposer of our lot, we know that we have no claim. We are all sinners; who are so far from having a title to challenge favours as our due, that we must acknowledge it to be of God's mercies that we are not consumed. As to deserving from the world, we are apt indeed sometimes to make high and unreasonable pretensions; yet, surely, very conceited we must be, if we be not disposed to admit, that there are many of at least equal merit with us, whose condition in the world is no better, perhaps much worse, than ours; who yet make no complaints, whose discontents are not heard. How much splendid genius is buried in forgotten neglect and obscurity? How much real worth and merit is driven forth to suffer all the hardships of a stormy life, while we dwell among our own people?-Look into your state, my brethren; and, before you give vent to peevishness, make a fair and just estimate of all the blessings you enjoy in comparison with others. You would willingly, I know, exchange your condition, in part, with many. You would gladly have the wealth of this man; you would have the high reputation and honour of another; the health, perhaps, and firm vigour, of a third. But I ask, Who is there with whom you would wish to make a total exchange; to forego altogether your present self; and to be just what he is, in mind and in body, as well as in outward estate? If this be an exchange, which few, I apprehend, are |