are sent, is not answered. Even if religion were out of the question, we might know, by all which reason tells us of God, that, in all His dispensations [whether our cup overflows with mercy, or that we taste some portion of that bitterness which the Son of God drank up to the dregs,] still every thing is intended for our good; and that His judgements are nothing more than the chastisements of a wise and in tender parent. But in Scripture, where the veil of mortality is withdrawn, and we are admitted, in part, to a view of all the ways and secret things of Providence, we behold every recorded affliction the gracious meaning of our Almighty Father. Is Miriam, the prophetess, smitten with a loathsome disease: or St. Paul, buffeted by the ministers of Satan? it is only to mortify the swelling pride of their hearts, and to teach them a juster estimation of their weakness and dependance. Is the prodigal reduced to poverty, and famishing with hunger? it serves to force him to return again to the comforts and plenty of his Father's house. Or, lastly, is the darling son of the Galilean nobleman afflicted with a grievous sickness? it is the means of calling to the knowledge of Christ, himself, his father, and his family. Well might this young man, in after life, look back upon his fears, with sentiments of joy and gratitude; well might he acknowledge, that it was good for him that he was stricken, and that God had, in very faithfulness, afflicted him. We may suppose, indeed, that the happy spirits of just men made perfect, when the ways of God are opened before their eyes, will find a delightful subject of recollection in the miseries of the world, through which they have passed; and will trace in every misfortune the hand of God, guiding them to glory. "This or that providential sickness," (they may say in recurring to what has passed in their earthly life,) "this providential sickness first changed my heart, and disposed it to seriousness and religion. This failure in my property, or this unkindness of the world, taught me to trust no longer in uncertain riches, and to put my confidence in no child of man. By the death-bed of such or such dear friends, the anguish, which I felt, induced me to imitate their virtues, in hopes of one day meeting them again. And all these sufferings, and sufferings like these, served to wean my affections from the world, and to place my heart and my only treasure in heaven." Such we may conceive to be the meditation of many a happy being now in Paradise, whose earthly life we have accounted misery, and his end without honour. Why then do we, whose afflictions are thus mercifully meant, resist, like froward children, the medicines intended to heal us; or envy those, whom God has thought proper to treat after a different manner? Milder remedies may suffice for some, while for others more painful means of cure are required. But all must have their share of bitterness; and this bitterness is more equally distributed, than some of you, perhaps, will readily imagine. But whether mild or severe, the Heavenly Physician of our souls best knows what remedy will suit us and we should be cautious how we murmur at His judgements, lest He withdraw His remedies, and leave us to the perverseness of our own incurable hearts. But, if His hand is grievous, why do we make it necessary? Why do we persist in the sinful habits, which these judgements are intended to cure? Get rid of the disease; and you will no longer need the bitter remedy. Pray, then, whenever afflictions overtake you, pray not only to be delivered from their immediate weight, but from the sins which originally brought them on your head. And pray, too, that, whatever misfortunes God may please to send you, He may send, at the same time, patience to support them, grace to learn from them a knowledge of yourself and of God, and hope to cheer your passage to that eternal happiness, where you will be made to understand how much the Lord loveth whom He chasteneth, and how good it hath been for you to If ye draw this lesson from your present calamity; if, though ye lose this whole world, ye preserve, at last, your promise of the world "Blessed are ye that mourn, for ye to come, SERMON LV. TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. ST. MATTHEW, xviii. 35. So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses. THE Occasion, on which these words were spoken, you have heard in the Gospel of the day; when Peter inquires of his Master, how far and how frequently he was bound to forgive a sinner, who promised amendment." How often," are his words, "shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? until seven times? I say not unto thee, until seven times," was our Lord's reply, "but, until seventy times seven!" The feeling, which prompted Peter's question, is very natural to the mind of man, even of the best and most forgiving man: for there is not, among the circumstances, which make up our notion of an injury, any one more aggravating or more difficult to pardon, than the recollection, that this is not the first time that amendment |