perfect security, over the deep and rapid stream. These strengthen the arms the stupendous arms, of the mole; which stretch themselves far into the ocean break the impetuosity of the surge, and screen the bark from tempestuous seas. These stony treasures are comparatively soft while they continue in the bowels of the earth, but acquire an increasing hardness when exposed to the open air. Was this remarkable peculiarity reversed, what difficultie would attend the labours of the mason? His materials could not be extracted from their bed, nor fashioned for his purpose, without infinite toil. Were hi work completed, it could not long withstand the fury of the elements; but insensibly mouldering, or incessantly decaying, would elude the expectations of the owner; perhaps might prove an immature grave, instead of a durable dwelling,

Here are various assortments or vast layers of clay; which, however contemptible in its appearance, is abundantly more advantageous than the rocks of diamond, or the veins of gold. This is moulded, with great expedition and ease, into vessels of any shape, and of almost every size. Some so delicately fine, that they compose the most elegant and ornamental furniture for the tea-table of a princess: others so remarkably cheap, that they are ranged on the shelves, and minister at the meal, of the poorest peasant. All so perfectly neat, that no liquid takes the least taint, nor the nicest palate any disgust, from their cleanly services.

A multiplicity of other valuable stores are locked up, by Providence, in those ample vaults. The key of all is committed to the management of industry; with free permission to produce cach particular species, as necessity shall demand, or prudence direct.

Which shall we most admire-the bountiful heart, the liberal hand, or the all-discerning eye of our great Creator? How observable and admirable is his precaution, in removing these useful but cumbrous wares from the superfices, and stowing them, in proper repositories, beneath the ground! Were they scattered over the surface of the soil, the earth would be embarrassed with the enormous load; our roads would be blocked up, and scarce any portion left free for the operations of husbandry. Were they buried extremely deep, or sunk to the centre of the globe, it would cost us immense pains to procure them; or rather, they would be quite inaccessible. Were they uniformly spread into a pavement for nature, the trees could not strike their roots, nor the herbs shoot their blades, but universal sterility must ensue. Whereas, by their present disposition, they furnish us with a magazine of metallic, without causing any diminution of our vegetable, treasures. Fossils of every splendid and serviceable kind enrich the bowels, while bloom and verdure embellish the face of the earth.

So judicious is the arrangement of this grand edifice; so beneficent the destination of its whole furniture in which all is regulated with consummate skill, and touched into the highest perfection! All most exactly adapted to the various intentions of Providence, and the manifold exigencies of mankind; to supply every want we can feel, and gratify every wish we can form.

Insomuch that the whole system affords a favourite and exalted topic of praise, even to those distinguished beings who "stand on the sea of glass,

No notice is taken of the ocean, in this little rent-roll of nature's wealth; because a distinct sketch is given of that grand receptacle, and its principal services, in Letter IX.

and have the harps of God in their hands." They lift their voice an "Great and marvellous are thy works, O Lord God Almighty," Rev. And is there not reason, my Aspasio would say, infinite reason for us to join this triumphant choir, and add gratitude to our wonder, love to our hallelujahs; since all these things are to us, not merely objects of contemplation, but sources of accommodation; not only a majestic spectacle, bright with the display of our Creator's wisdom, but an inestimable gift, rich with the emanations of his goodness? The heaven hath he set before the inhabitants of glory, “but the earth hath he given to the children of men," Psal. cxv. 16. Having given us ourselves, given us a world; has he not a right, a most unquestionable and unrivalled right, to make that tender demand, My son, give me thy heart?" Prov. xxiii. 26.

Shall I add another passage, which, viewed with any but the last paragraph, will be like the head of gold, eminent and conspicuous, on feet of iron and clay? It is taken from the finest philosophical oration that ever was made. I never read it but with a glow of delight, and with impressions of awe. It is, in short, inimitably spirited and sublime. You think, perhaps, I act an impolitic part in being so lavish of my praise; and that the quotation must suffer by such an aggrandising introduction. But I am under no apprehensions of this kind: forbear to be delighted, if you can; cease to admire, if you can; when you hear Omniscience itself declaring, that on the sight of this universal fabric emerging out of nothing," the morning-stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy," Job. xxxviii. 7. The system was so graceful, so magnificent, and in all respects so exquisitely finished, that the most exalted intelligences were charmed, were transported. They knew not how to express themselves on the great occasion, but in shouts of exultation and songs of praise. Is it possible for imagination to conceive an encomium so just, so high, so beautifully noble ?—I am sure, after so much delicacy and majesty of sentiment, any thing of mine must be intolerably flat; unless you will except this one profession, that I am, with the most cordial sincerity, my dear Aspasio, inviolably yours, THERON.

LETTER VII.-ASPASIO TO THERON.

I

MY DEAR THERON,-If you write with such a view, and from such a motive, as are mentioned in your last, expect no more free-will offerings from my pen. In this one instance I shall think it my duty to be covetous. shall act the miser out of principle; and hardly persuade myself to part with a single line, till it is become an undeniable debt. I must turn your own artifice on yourself, and lay you under a necessity of obliging, entertaining, and edifying me by your correspondence.

For, give me leave to assure you, that I am always delighted, and always improved by your epistles. They show me a multitude of beauties in the creation which I should not otherwise have discerned. They point out the infinite power, the unsearchable wisdom, and the charmingly rich goodness of the glorious Maker. Such a philosophy turns all nature into a school of instruction, and is an excellent handmaid to true religion. It makes every object a step, better than a golden step, to raise both our knowldge and our affections to the adorable and immortal Cause of all.

While I am roving heedlessly along, your remarks often interpose, like some intelligent faithful monitor who claps his hand upon my breast, and says, "Stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God," Job xxxvii. 14. Willingly I obey the admonition: the Christian may, with peculiar complacency, consider this grand magazine of wonders, this copious storehouse of blessings, and all conscious of an interest in Jesus, has a right to call them, "his own," 1 Cor. iii. 2. He may look round upon present things,look forward unto future things, and, trusting in his Saviour's merit, may confidently say," Not one only, but both these worlds are mine. By virtue of my Redeemer's righteousness, I possess the necessary accommodations of this life; and on the same unshaken footing, I stand entitled to the inconceivable felicity of a better."

Surely, then, it will be as pleasing an employ, and as important a search, to examine the validity of our title to future things, as to estimate the value of our present possessions. You have executed the one, let me attempt the other. You have surveyed material nature. It appears to be a fair and stately mansion, void of all defect; and, for the purposes which it is intended to answer, completely finished. Is not our Saviour's obedience, the provision made for indigent and guilty souls, equally rich, and equally perfect? Since this is everlasting and immutable; since the other is transient and perishable; doubtless we may argue with the judicious apostle; If "that which is to be done away," which will soon be consigned over to dissolution "is glorious; much more that which remaineth," whose blessed effects continue to eternal ages, "is glorious," 2 Cor. iii. 11.

We are every one "as an unclean thing," Isa. lxiv. 6. Our very nature is contaminated. Even sanctification, though it destroys the reigning, does not wholly supersede the polluting power of iniquity; so that, whatever graces we exercise, whatever duties we perform, (like the rays of light transmitted through coloured glass, or like generous wine streaming from a defiled cask,) they receive some improper tinge, or contract some debasing taint. But Christ was entirely free from this innate contagion. He had no erroneous apprehensions in his mind, no corrupt bias upon his will, nor any irregular concupiscence in his affections.

Being thus perfectly undefiled, " he did not sin, neither was guile found in his mouth," 1 Pet. ii. 22. All his thoughts were innocent, all his words were irreproachable, and every action blameless. The most accomplished among the children of men, when surprised in some unguarded moment, or assaulted on some weak side, have been betrayed into error, or hurried into sin. Even Moses spake unadvisedly with his lips, and Aaron, the saint of the Lord, warped to idolatrous practices. They were like some stagnating lake, in which, the dregs being subsided, the waters appear clean; but when stirred by temptation, or agitated by affliction, the sediment rises, and the pool is discoloured. Whereas Christ may be compared to a fountain that is all transparency, and pure to the very bottom; which, however shaken, however disturbed, is nothing but fluid crystal, permanently and invariably clear. It was a small thing for the blessed Jesus to have no depraved propensity: he was born in a state of consummate rectitude, and adorned with all the beauties of holiness. "Holiness to the Lord" was inscribed, not on the mitre, but on the heart of our great High-priest: therefore he is styled, by the angelic harbinger of his birth, "That Holy Thing," Luke i.

35*. In the prophecy of Zechariah, the dignity of our Redeemer's nature, and the perfection of his obedience, are displayed, by the similitude of a stone, (Zech. iii. 9,) adorned with exquisite engraving, wrought not by Bezaleel or Aholiab, though divinely inspired artists, but by the finger of Jehovah himself; and more highly finished than it is possible for human skill to equal, or human thought to conceive.

The whole tenor of our Lord's conduct was a living exemplification of piety and morality, in their most extensive branches and most amiable forms. Saints of the highest attainments have fallen short of the glory of God; have been far from reaching the exalted standard of his precepts: but Christ failed in no point, came short in no degree. We formerly observed the great sublimity and vast extent of the divine law; from whence appears the extreme difficulty, nay the utter impossibility, of our justification on account of any duties performed by ourselves. How should we rejoice then to contemplate the vicarious righteousness of our condescending and adorable Surety! As the mercy-seat was exactly commensurate to the dimensions of the ark, so did our Lord's obedience most fully quadrate with all and every demand of the divine law. It flowed from those best of principles-supreme love to God, and unfeigned affection to mankind.

From these two capital sources, let us trace our Lord's obedience through some little part of its illustrious progress. His delight in God was conspicuous, even from his early years. The sacred solemnities of the sanctuary were more engaging to his youthful mind, than all the entertainments of a festival. When he entered upon his ministry, whole nights were not too long for his copious devotions. The lonely retirements of the desert, as affording opportunity for undisturbed communion with God, were more desirable to Christ than the applauses of an admiring world.

So ceaseless and transcendent was his love to God, that he never sought any separate pleasure of his own, but always did those things which were pleasing in his Father's sight. His own will was entirely absorbed in the will of the Most High, and "it was his meat and drink," refreshing and delightful as the richest food, or as royal dainties, "to finish the work that was given him to do," John iv. 34.

So entirely devoted to the honour of God, that a zeal for his house, and for the purity of his ordinances, is represented by the evangelical historian as "eating him up," John ii. 17. Like a heavenly flame glowing in his breast, it sometimes fired him with a graceful indignation, sometimes melted him into godly sorrow, and, by exerting itself in a variety of vigorous efforts, consumed his vital spirits.

So active and unremitted was the obedience of the blessed Jesus, that the sun did not enter upon his race with a more constant assiduity, nor despatch his business with greater expedition; and sure I am, that radiant luminary never dispensed beams half so bright, or a thousandth part so beneficial. Short was his span, but how grand and extensive were his services! So grand, that they bring more glory to God than all the administrations of Providence, and all the phenomena of nature. So extensive, that they spread, in their gracious efficacy, to the ends of the earth, and to the closing period of time. Nay, they will diffuse their blessed influence even to the Which is spoken in contradistinction to the state of all other births, and implies the universal prevalence of original corruption, this one instance only excepted.

celestial world, and have no other limits of their duration than the ages of eternity.

Most affectionately concerned for the welfare of mankind, he spent his strength, not barely in relieving them when his aid was implored, but in seeking the afflicted, and offering his assistance. With great fatigue, John iv. 6, he travelled to remote cities, and with no less condescension he visited the meanest villages,-that all might have the benefit and comfort of his presence. Though multitudes of miserable objects were brought to him from every quarter, yet he was pleased even to prevent the wishes of the dis tressed, and "went about doing good.”

He gave sight, and all the agreeable scenes of nature, to the blind; health, and all the choice comforts of life, to the diseased. He expelled malevolent raging demons, and restored, what is more precious than the light of the body, or the vigour of the constitution, the calm possession of the intellectual faculties. What greatly surpassed all the preceding blessings, he released the wretched soul from the dominion of darkness and from the tyranny of sin. He made his followers partakers of a divine nature, and prepared them for a state of never-ending bliss.

Such priceless treasures of wisdom and beneficence flowed from his tongue, and were poured from his hands! How different these triumphs of mercy from the trophies erected by wild ambition in the bloody field! If heathens celebrated those mighty butchers who made cities their slaughter-house, made half the globe their shambles, and measured their merit by the devastations they spread; how should Christians admire this heavenly Benefactor, who rose upon a wretched world "with healing under his wings!" who distributed far and near the unspeakably rich gifts of knowledge and holiness, of temporal happiness and eternal joy!

Nor were these righteous acts his strange work, but his repeated, his hourly, his almost incessant employ. Sometimes we hear him preaching in the temple, or publishing his glad tidings in the synagogues. Sometimes we see him teaching in private houses, or bringing forth the good things of his gospel on the deck of a ship. At other times he takes a mountain for his pulpit; the heavens are his sounding-board; and "all that have ears to hear" are invited to be his audience. Does he lay aside his solemn office, it is only to carry on the same design in a more condescending and familia manner. If he meets with the Pharisees, he discovers their errors and reproves their vices; he confutes their objections, and (in case they are not absolutely inaccessible to wise counsel) rectifies their mistakes. If he vouchsafes to be present at a feast, he furnishes the richest, incomparably the richest, part of the treat. "Honey and milk are under his tongue,' Cant. iv. 11. He inculcates lowliness of mind on the vain, Luke xiv. 8 he recommends disinterested charity to the selfish, Luke xiv. 12; and promises pardon to the weeping penitent, Luke vii. 48. Is he retired from other company, and surrounded only by his chosen attendants? His con versation is a sermon. Whether he sit in the inner chamber, or travel on the public road, or walk through the corn-fields,, he is still prosecuting his great work, training up his disciples for their sacred function, and imparting to them what they may communicate to others. Is he retired from all com pany? Even then he does not discontinue his labours of love, but adds the fervent intercessions of the night to the charitable toils of the day. Yes