minds of many are not so susceptible of warm impressions, or so badly fortified against them, that pleasure should easily corrupt or soften them; that it would be hard to suppose, of the great multitudes which daily throng and press into this house of feasting, but that numbers come out of it again with all the innocence with which they entered; and that if both sexes are included in the computation, what fair example shall we see of many of so pure and chaste a turn of mind that the house of feasting, with all its charms and temptations, was never able to excite a thought or awaken an inclination which virtue need to blush at, or which the most scrupulous conscience might not support. God forbid we should say otherwise. No doubt, numbers of all ages escape unhurt, and get off this dangerous sea without shipwreck. Yet are they not to be reckoned amongst the more fortunate adventurers? and though one would not absolutely prohibit the attempt, or be so cynical as to condemn every one who tries it,-since there are so many, I suppose, who cannot well do otherwise, and whose condition and situation in life unavoidably force them upon it,-yet we may be allowed to describe this fair and flattering coast, we may point out the unsuspected dangers of it, and warn the unwary passenger where they lie. We may show him what hazards his youth and inexperience will run, how little he can gain by the venture, and how much wiser and better it I would be (as is implied in the text) to seek occasions rather to improve his little stock of virtue than incautiously expose it to so unequal a chance, where the best he can hope is to return safe with what treasure he carried out, but where probably he may be so unfortunate as to lose it all, be lost himself, and undone for ever.

Thus much for the house of feasting; which, by the way, though generally open at other times of the year throughout the world, is supposed, in Christian countries, now everywhere to be universally shut up. And, in truth, I have been more full in my cautions against it, not only as reason requires, but in reverence to this season,' wherein our Church exacts a more particular forbearance and self-denial in this point, and thereby adds to the restraints upon pleasure and entertainments which this representation of things has suggested against them already.

Here, then, let us turn aside from this gay scene; and suffer me to take you with me for a moment to one much fitter for your meditation. Let us go into the house of mourning, made so by such afflictions as have been brought in merely by the common cross accidents and disasters to which our condition is exposed-where, perhaps, the aged parents sit broken-hearted,

Preached in Lent.

pierced to their souls with the folly and indiscretion of a thankless child-the child of their prayers, in whom all their hopes and expectations centred: perhaps a more affecting scene -a virtuous family lying pinched with want, where the unfortunate support of it, having long struggled with a train of misfortunes, and bravely fought up against them, is now piteously borne down at the last-overwhelmed with a cruel blow which no forecast or frugality could have prevented. O God! look upon his afflictions. Behold him distracted with many sorrows, surrounded with the tender pledges of his love and the partner of his cares, without bread to give them, unable, from the remembrance of better days, to dig; to beg, ashamed.

When we enter into the house of mourning such as this, it is impossible to insult the unfortunate even with an improper look. Under whatever levity and dissipation of heart such objects catch our eyes, they catch likewise our attentions, collect and call home our scattered thoughts, and exercise them with wisdom. A transient scene of distress, such as is here sketched, how soon does it furnish materials to set the mind at work; how necessarily does it engage it to the consideration of the miseries and misfortunes, the dangers and calamities to which the life of man is subject! By holding up such a glass before it, it forces the mind to see and reflect upon the vanity-the perishing condition and uncertain tenure of everything in this world. From reflections of this serious cast, how insensibly do the thoughts carry us further! and from considering what we are, what kind of world we live in, and what evils befall us in it, how naturally do they set us to look forwards at what possibly we shall be! for what kind of world we are intended; what evils may befall us there; and what provision we should make against them here, whilst we have time and opportunity.

If these lessons are so inseparable from the house of mourning here supposed, we shall find it a still more instructive school of wisdom when we take a view of the place in that more affecting light in which the wise man seems to confine it in the text, in which, by the house of mourning, I believe he means that particular scene of sorrow where there is lamentation and mourning for the dead.

Turn in hither, I beseech you, for a moment. Behold a dead man ready to be carried out, the only son of his mother, and she a widow. Perhaps a more affecting spectacle,-a kind and indulgent father of a numerous family lies breathless-snatched away in the strength of his age-torn in an evil hour from his children and the bosom of a disconsolate wife.

Behold much people of the city gathered together to mix their tears, with settled sorrow in their looks, going heavily along to the house of mourning, to perform that last melancholy

If this sad occasion, which leads him there, has not done it already, take notice to what a serious and devout frame of mind every man is reduced, the moment he enters this gate of affliction. The busy and fluttering spirits which in the house of mirth were wont to transport him from one diverting object to another-see how they are fallen! how peaceably they are laid! In this gloomy mansion, full of shades and uncomfortable damps to seize the soul-see the light and easy heart which never knew what it was to think before, how pensive it is now, how soft, how susceptible, how full of religious impressions, how deeply it is smitten with sense, and with a love of virtue! Could we, in this crisis, whilst this empire of reason and religion lasts, and the heart is thus exercised with wisdom, and busied with heavenly contemplations-could we see it naked as it is-stripped of its passions, unspotted by the world, and regardless of its pleasures-we might then safely rest our cause upon this single evidence, and appeal to the most sensual, whether Solomon has not made a just determination here, in favour of the house of mourning, not for its own sake, but as it is fruitful in virtue, and becomes the occasion of so much good. Without this end, sorrow, I own, has no use but to shorten a man's days; nor can gravity, with all its studied solemnity of look and carriage, serve any end but to make onehalf of the world merry, and impose upon the other.

by their great Legislator, our Saviour therefore refers him to his own memory of what he had found there in the course of his studies. What is written in the law? how readest thou? Upon which, the inquirer reciting the general heads of our duty to God and man, as delivered in the 18th of Leviticus and the 6th of Deuteronomy, namely, That we should worship the Lord our God with all our hearts, and love our neighbour as ourselves; our blessed Saviour tells him he had answered right, and if he followed that lesson he could not fail of the blessing he seemed desirous to inherit,-This do, and thou shalt live.

But he, as the context tells us, willing to justify himself,-willing, possibly, to gain more credit in the conference, or hoping, perhaps, to hear such a partial and narrow definition of the word neighbour as would suit his own principles, and justify some particular oppressions of his own, or those of which his whole order lay under an accusation, says unto Jesus, in the 29th verse, And who is my neighbour? Though the demand at first sight may seem utterly trifling, yet was it far from being so in fact. For, according as you understood the term in a more or less restrained sense, it produced many necessary variations in the duties you owed from that relation. Our blessed Saviour, to rectify any partial and pernicious mistake in this matter, and to place at once this duty of the love of our neighbour upon its true bottom of philanthropy and universal kindness, makes answer to the proposed question, not by any

III.-PHILANTHROPY RECOMMENDED. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell amongst the thieves? And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.'-LUKE X. 36, 37. IN the foregoing verses of this chapter the Evangelist relates that a certain lawyer stood up and tempted Jesus, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? To which inquiry, our Saviour, as his manner was when any ensnaring question was put to him, which proceeded more from a design to entangle him than an honest view of getting information, instead of giving a direct answer, which might afford a handle to malice, or at best serve only to gratify an impertinent humour, he immediately retorts the question upon the man who asked it, and unavoidably puts him upon the necessity of answering himself; and, as in the present case, the particular profession of the inquirer, and his supposed general knowledge of all other branches of learning, left no room to suspect he could be ignorant of the true answer to this question, and especially of what

Rabbis, which might have sooner silenced than convinced the man, but by a direct appeal to human nature, in an instance he relates of a man falling amongst thieves, left in the greatest distress imaginable, till by chance a Samaritan, an utter stranger, coming where he was, by an act of great goodness and compassion, not only relieved him at present, but took him under his protection, and generously provided for his future safety.

On the close of which engaging account, our Saviour appeals to the man's own heart in the first verse of the text-Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell amongst the thieves? and, instead of drawing the inference himself, leaves him to decide in favour of so noble a principle, so evidently founded in mercy. The lawyer, struck with the truth and justice of the doctrine, and frankly acknowledging the force of it, our blessed Saviour concludes the debate with a short admonition, that he would practise what he had approved, and go and imitate that fair example of universal benevolence which it had set before him.

In the remaining part of the discourse I shall follow the same plan, and therefore shall beg

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leave to enlarge, first, upon the story itself, with such reflections as will arise from it; and conclude, as our Saviour has done, with the same exhortation to kindness and humanity, which so naturally falls from it.

A certain man, says our Saviour, went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, who stripped him of his raiment, and departed, leaving him half dead. There is something in our nature which engages us to take part in every accident to which man is subject, from what cause soever it may have happened; but in such calamities as a man has fallen into through mere misfortune, to be charged upon no fault or indiscretion of himself, there is something then so truly interesting, that, at the first sight, we generally make them our own, not altogether from a reflection that they might have been or may be so, but oftener from a certain generosity and tenderness of nature, which disposes us for compassion, abstracted from all considerations of self; so that, without any observable act of the will, we suffer with the unfortunate, and feel a weight upon our spirits, we know not why, on seeing the most common instances of their distress. But where the spectacle is uncommonly tragical, and complicated with many circumstances of misery, the mind is then taken captive at once, and were it inclined to it, has no power to make resistance, but surrenders itself to all the tender emotions of pity and deep concern. So that, when one considers this friendly part of our nature, without looking further, one would think it impossible for a man to look upon misery without finding himself in some measure attached to the interest of him who suffers it. I say one would think it impossible; for there are some tempers (how shall I describe them?) formed either of such impenetrable matter, or wrought up by habitual selfishness to such an utter insensibility of what becomes of the fortunes of their fellow-creatures, as if they were not partakers of the same nature, or had no lot nor connection at all with the species.

Of this character our Saviour produces two disgraceful instances in the behaviour of a priest and a Levite, whom in this account he represents as coming to the place where the unhappy man was; both passing by without either stretching forth a hand to assist, or uttering a word to comfort him in his distress.

And by chance there came down a certain priest Merciful God! that a teacher of thy religion should ever want humanity! or that a man, whose head might be thought full of the one, should have a heart void of the other! This, however, was the case before us; and though in theory one would scarce suspect that the least pretence to religion, and an open disregard to so main a part of it, could ever meet together in one person, yet in fact it is no fictitious character.

Look into the world. How often do you be hold a sordid wretch, whose strait heart is open to no man's affliction, taking shelter behind an appearance of piety, and putting on the garb of religion, which none but the merciful and compassionate have a title to wear! Take notice with what sanctity he goes to the end of his days, in the same selfish track in which he at first set out,-turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, but plods on; pores all his life long upon the ground, as if afraid to look up, lest peradventure he should see aught which might turn him one moment out of that straight line where interest is carrying him; or if by chance he stumbles upon a hapless object of distress, which threatens such a disaster to him, like the man here represented, devoutly passing by on the other side, as if unwilling to trust himself to the impressions of nature, or hazard the inconveniences which pity might lead him into upon the occasion.

There is but one stroke wanting in this picture of an unmerciful man, to render the character utterly odious; and that our Saviour gives in the following instance he relates upon it. And likewise,' says he, 'a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked at him.' It was not a transient oversight, the hasty or ill-advised neglect of an unconsidering humour, with which the best disposed are sometimes overtaken, and led on beyond the point where otherwise they would have wished to stop. No! on the contrary, it had all the aggravation of a deliberate act of insensibility proceeding from a hard heart. When he was at the place, he came and looked at him, considered his misfortunes, gave time for reason and nature to have awoke,-saw the imminent danger he was in, and the pressing necessity of immediate help, which so violent a case called aloud for; and, after all, turned aside, and unmercifully left him to all the distresses of his condition.

In all unmerciful actions, the worst of men pay this compliment at least to humanity, to endeavour to wear as much of the appearance of it as the case will let them; so that, in the hardest acts a man shall be guilty of, he has some motives, true or false, always ready to offer, either to satisfy himself or the world, and, God knows, too often to impose both upon the one and the other. And therefore it would be no hard matter here to give a probable guess at what passed in the Levite's mind in the present case, and show, was it necessary, by what kind of casuistry he settled the matter with his conscience as he passed by, and guarded all the passages to his heart against the inroads which pity might attempt to make upon the occasion. But it is painful to dwell long upon this disagreeable part of the story. I therefore hasten to the concluding incident of it, which is so amiable that one cannot easily be too copious in reflections upon it. And behold, says our

Saviour, a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him, bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, set him upon his own beast, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. I suppose it will be scarce necessary here to remind you that the Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans: an old religious grudge-the worst of all grudgeshad wrought such a dislike between both people that they held themselves mutually discharged, not only from all offices of friendship and kindness, but even from the most common acts of courtesy and good manners. This operated so strongly in our Saviour's time, that the woman of Samaria seemed astonished that he, being a Jew, should ask water of her, who was a Samaritan; so that with such a prepossession, however distressful the case of the unfortunate man was, and how reasonably soever he might plead for pity from another man, there was little aid or consolation to be looked for from so unpromising a quarter. 'Alas! after I have been twice passed by, neglected by men of my own nation and religion, bound by so many ties to assist me, left here friendless and unpitied both by a priest and a Levite, men whose profession and superior advantages of knowledge could not leave them in the dark in what manner they should discharge this debt which my condition claims,-after this, what hopes! what expectations from a passenger, not only a stranger, but a Samaritan, released from all obligations to me, and by a national dislike inflamed by mutual ill-offices, now made my enemy, and more likely to rejoice at the evils which have fallen upon me than to stretch forth a hand to save me from them!'

"Tis no unnatural soliloquy to imagine; but the actions of generous and compassionate tempers baffle all little reasonings about them. True charity, in the apostle's description, as it is kind, and is not easily provoked, so it manifested this character here; for we find, when he came where he was, and beheld his distress, all the unfriendly passions which at another time might have rose within him, now utterly forsook him and fled: when he saw his misfortunes, he forgot his enmity towards the man, dropped all the prejudices which education had planted against him; and, in the room of them, all that was good and compassionate was suffered to speak in his behalf.

In benevolent natures, the impulse to pity is so sudden, that, like instruments of music which obey the touch, the objects which are fitted to excite such impressions work so instantaneous an effect that you would think the will was scarce concerned, and that the mind was altogether passive in the sympathy which her own goodness has excited. The truth is, the soul is generally in such cases so busily taken up and wholly engrossed by the object of pity, that she

does not attend to her own operations, or take leisure to examine the principles upon which she acts. So that the Samaritan, though the moment he saw him he had compassion on him, yet, sudden as the emotion is represented, you are not to imagine that it was mechanical, but that there was a settled principle of humanity and goodness which operated within him, and influenced not only the first impulse of kindness, but the continuation of it throughout the rest of so engaging a behaviour. And because it is a pleasure to look into a good mind, and trace out, as far as one is able, what passes within it on such occasions, I shall beg leave for a moment to state an account of what was likely to pass in his, and in what manner so distressful a case would necessarily work upon such a disposition. As he approached the place where the unfortunate man lay, the instant he beheld him, no doubt, some such train of reflections as these would rise in his mind :- Good God! what a spectacle of misery do I behold: a man stripped of his raiment,-wounded,-lying languishing before me upon the ground, just ready to expire, without the comfort of a friend to support him in his last agonies, or the prospect of a hand to close his eyes when his pains are over! But perhaps my concern should lessen, when I reflect on the relations in which we stand to each other, that he is a Jew, and I a Samaritan. But are we not still both men? partakers of the same nature, and subject to the same evils? Let me change conditions with him for a moment, and consider, had his lot befallen me as I journeyed in the way, what measure I should have expected at his hand. Should I wish, when he beheld me wounded and half dead, that he should shut up his bowels of compassion from me, and double the weight of my miseries by passing by, and leaving them unpitied? But I am a stranger to the man: be it so; but I am no stranger to his condition; misfortunes are of no particular tribe or nation, but belong to us all, and have a general claim upon us, without distinction of climate, country, or religion. Besides, though I am a stranger, 'tis no fault of his that I do not know him, and therefore unequitable he should suffer by it; had I known him, possibly I should have had cause to love and pity him the more; for aught I know, he is some one of uncommon merit, whose life is rendered still more precious as the lives and happiness of others may be involved in it; perhaps at this instant, that he lies here forsaken in all this misery, a whole virtuous family is joyfully looking for his return, and affectionately counting the hours of his delay! Oh! did they know what evil had befallen him, how would they fly to succour him! Let me then hasten to supply those tender offices of binding up his wounds, and carry him to a place of safety; or, if that assistance comes too late, I shall comfort him at least in his last hour;

and, if I can do nothing else, I shall soften his misfortunes by dropping a tear of pity over them.'

'Tis almost necessary to imagine the good Samaritan was influenced by some such thoughts as these, from the uncommon generosity of his behaviour, which is represented by our Saviour operating like the warm zeal of a brother, mixed with the affectionate discretion and care of a parent, who was not satisfied with taking him under his protection, and supplying his present wants, but in looking forwards for him, and taking care that his wants should be supplied when he should be gone, and no longer near to befriend him.

I think there needs no stronger argument to prove how universally and deeply the seeds of this virtue of compassion are planted in the heart of man than in the pleasure we take in such representations of it; and though some men have represented human nature in other colours (though to what end I know not), yet the matter of fact is so strong against them, that, from the general propensity to pity the unfortunate, we express that sensation by the word Humanity, as if it was inseparable from our nature. That it is not inseparable, I have allowed in the former part of this discourse, from some reproachful instances of selfish tempers, which seem to take part in nothing beyond themselves; yet I am persuaded, and affirm, 'tis still so great and noble a part of our nature, that a man must do great violence to himself, and suffer many a painful conflict, before he has brought himself to a different disposition.

'Tis observable, in the foregoing account, that when the priest came to the place where he was, he passed by on the other side; he might have passed by, you'll say, without turning aside. No; there is a secret shame which attends every act of inhumanity not to be conquered in the hardest natures, so that, as in other cases, so especially in this, many a man will do a cruel act who at the same time will blush to look you in the face, and is forced to turn aside before he can have a heart to execute his purpose.

Inconsistent creature that man is! who, at that instant that he does what is wrong, is not able to withhold his testimony to what is good and praiseworthy!

I have now done with the parable, which was the first part proposed to be considered in this discourse; and should proceed to the second, which so naturally falls from it, of exhorting you, as our Saviour did the lawyer upon it, to go and do so likewise; but I have been so copious in my reflections upon the story itself that I find I have insensibly incorporated into them almost all that I should have said here in recommending so amiable an example; by which means I have unawares anticipated the task I proposed. I shall therefore detain you no

longer than with a single remark upon the subject in general, which is this:-'Tis observable, in many places of Scripture, that our blessed Saviour, in describing the day of judgment, does it in such a manner, as if the great inquiry then was to relate principally to this one virtue of compassion, and as if our final sentence at that solemnity was to be pronounced exactly according to the degrees of it. 'I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: thirsty, and ye gave me drink: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: in prison, and ye came unto me.' Not that we are to imagine thence, as if any other good or evil action should then be overlooked by the eye of the All-seeing Judge, but barely to intimate to us that a charitable and benevolent disposition is so principal and ruling a part of a man's character as to be a considerable test by itself of the whole frame and temper of his mind, with which all other virtues and vices respectively rise and fall, and will almost necessarily be connected. Tell me therefore of a compassionate man, you represent to me a man of a thousand other good qualities; on whom I can depend; whom I may safely trust with my wife, my children, my fortune and reputation. 'Tis for this, as the Apostle argues from the same principle,-that he will not commit adultery,—that he will not kill,-that he will not steal,-that he will not bear false witness. That is, the sorrows which are stirred up in men's hearts by such trespasses are so tenderly felt by a compassionate man that it is not in his power or his nature to commit them.

So that well might he conclude that charity, by which he means love to your neighbour, was the end of the commandment; and that whosoever fulfilled it had fulfilled the law. Now to God, etc. Amen.

IV. SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 'And Nathan said unto David, Thou art the man." 2 SAM. XII. 7.

THERE is no historical passage in Scripture which gives a more remarkable instance of the deceitfulness of the heart of man to itself, and of how little we truly know of ourselves, than this, wherein David is convicted out of his own mouth, and is led by the prophet to condemn and pronounce a severe judgment upon another, for an act of injustice, which he had passed over in himself, and possibly reconciled to his own conscience. To know one's self, one would think, could be no very difficult lesson; for who, you'll say, can well be truly ignorant of himself, and the true disposition of his own heart? If a man thinks at all, he cannot be a stranger to what passes there; he must be conscious of his own thoughts and desires, he must remember his past pursuits, and the true