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God's love watcheth over all, provideth for all, maketh wise adaptations for all; for age, for infancy, for maturity, for childhood in every scene of this, or another life; for want, for weakness, for joy, and for sorrow, and even for sin; so that even the wrath of man shall praise the goodness of God. All is good; all is well; all is right; and shall be for ever. This, oh! this is an inheritance, and a refuge, and a rest for the mind, from which the convulsions of worlds cannot shake it.

In what an aspect does this conviction present the scenes of eternity? We are placed here in a state of imperfection and trial, and much that seems like mystery and mischance. But what shall the future be, if the light of God's goodness is to shine through its ages? I answer, it shall be all bright disclosure, full consummation, blessed recompense. We shall doubtless see, what we can now only believe. The cloud will be lifted up, and will unveil-eternity! And what an eternity! All brightness; all beatitude; one unclouded vision; one immeasurable progress! The gate of mystery shall be past, and the full light shall shine for ever. Blessed change! That which caused us trial, shall yield us triumph. That which was the deeper darkness, shall be but the brighter light. That which made the heart ache, shall fill it with gladness. Tears shall be wiped away; and beamings of joy shall come in their place. He who tried the soul that he loved, shall more abundantly comfort the soul that he approves. That God, who has walked in the mysterious way, with clouds and darkness around about him, will then appear as the great Revealer: and he will reveal what the eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard, nor the heart conceived.

Let me insist, in close, as I did in the beginning, upon the necessity of this affectionate trust in God.

We cannot live as reasonable beings upon any conviction less lofty, less divine, less heartfelt than this. This is not a matter of will; it is a matter of necessity. Our minds cannot have a full and, at the same time, safe development; reflection and feeling cannot safely grow in us, unless they are guided, relieved and sustained by the contemplations of piety. The fresh and unworn sensibility of youth may hold on for awhile, and may keep its fountain clear and bright; but, by and bye, changes will come on; affliction will lay its chastening hand upon us; disappoinment will settle, like a chilling damp, upon the spirits; the mind will be discouraged, if there is nothing but earthly hope to cheer it on; the reasonings of misanthropy and the misgivings of scepticism will steal into it, and blight its generous affections; morbid sensitiveness will take the place of healthful feeling; all this will naturally come on, with the growing experience of life, if the love of God be not our support and safeguard. Every mind may not be conscious of this tendency, but every mind that thinks much and feels deeply, will be conscious of it, and will feel it bitterly. Your body may live on; but your soul, in its full development, in its deep wants, in its "strong hour" of trial and of reflection, must pine, and perish, and die, without this holy trust. Let it not so perish. Creature of God's love! believe in that love which gave thee being. Believe in that love which every moment redeems thee from death, and offers to redeem thee from the death eternal. Believe in God's love, and be wise, be patient, be comforted, be cheerful and happy-be happy in time; be happy in eternity!

VIII.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SENTIMENTS AND

PRINCIPLES.

AND DAVID'S ANGER WAS GREATLY KINDLED AGAINST THE MAN, AND HE SAID
TO NATHAN, AS THE LORD LIVETH THE MAN THAT HATH DONE THIS THING
SHALL SURELY DIE. AND NATHAN SAID TO DAVID, THOU ART THE MAN
2 Samuel xii. 5, 7.

THE circumstances attending this celebrated reproof, require a brief notice, in order to unfold the instruction which it conveys to us. The charm, I may observe, of these old Bible stories is, that they are always records of the heart. Kings are but men, and palaces but common dwellings, beneath that eye that looks through all human disguises. The robe of sanctity itself does not hide the defects that lurk beneath it. Priest or patriarch, seer or saint, though the man be, yet the Bible will have us see him as he is.

When we consider what David was, in station, and repute, and actual piety; the King of Israel; "the man after God's own heart;" the writer of holy psalms which are sung in all Christian nations to this day; what is it, we are ready to exclaim, that we read here? Why is it that this man stands as a trembling culprit, before the searching eye of a prophet of his people? Alas! David, at this period of his life, was a fallen man. That which every good man should fear, had overtaken him; he had fallen! He had been guilty of deeds contrary to all his better thoughts. He had been guilty of crimes; of crimes which fell nothing

short of actual murder; and murder committed with the most hateful intent and the most horrible deception.

For, observe what was done, in that ancient Hebrew court and kingdom. To possess the wife of Uriah, David wishes to rid himself of her husband; a devoted servant and a valiant warrior in his armies. And what now, think you, is the method he adopts to gain his purpose? He sends a letter by this same faithful servant, as if he would do him honour; he sends a letter by him to the captain of the host; and methinks the cheek of the hardened and unscrupulous Joab, must have turned pale as he read the words, "Set Uriah in the fore-front of the hottest battle, and retire from him that he may be smitten and die!" The cruel mandate is obeyed; and the man who for his sovereign, had bared his breast to the shock of battle where it raged the fiercest, falls a victim, not to the ordinary fate of war, but to the perfidy of the very master whom he served! The unhallowed design is accomplished; the object of guilty passion is obtained; David possesses the wife of Uriah!

But although conscience slept in the bosom of the king, it was not to sleep there forever. Time passed on; but time that bears in its bosom the burthen of guilt, is like no other time; heavy, dark, portentous. To the listening ear of the conscience-stricken man, something seems to be coming, he knows not what; some voice will break forth-he knows not where. And a voice was soon to fall on David's ear that should change the whole complexion of his guilty deed. For now in this awful crisis must not the prophet of God be idle. There is a stir in that world of conscience that surrounds the guilty king, of which he thinks not. Footsteps are heard approaching the royal apartments;

steps heavy and perhaps reluctant, but monitory and determined as the steps of Judgment. "And, the Lord," says the sacred record, "sent Nathan unto David."

Let us observe the manner of his proceeding. For it would be difficult to select a more beautiful example of ingenuity and fidelity united, than appeared in the address of the prophet on this trying occasion. He begins with a parable; yet a parable drawn with such masterly skill, that it has to the king all the appearance of reality. "There were two men in a city; the one rich, the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds; but the poor man," says this simple and beautiful parable, "had nothing, save one little ewe lamb; which he had bought and nourished up; and it grew up together with him and his children; it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and was cherished in his bosom and was unto him as a daughter:" a familiar and striking description of the affection which a whole household often feels for a cosset, or pet animal, that is brought up at the farm-house door. "And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock and of his own herd, but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the wayfaring man that was come unto him." Imagine now the grief of this poor family, as the cherished lamb is torn from their little enclosure and slaughtered before their eyes; and you have the whole picture which the prophet drew. It is a tale of humble, rural life indeed; but the royal justice is awakened and bursts out into strong indignation. "As the Lord liveth," says David-it is the form of a Jewish oath ;-as if he had said, "By the justice of the living God, the man that hath done this thing shall surely die." Oh! then, with what eye was

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