others. There is no truth more assured, no maxim more common-place, than that it is utterly impossible to satisfy all. For human beings cannot see exactly by the same lights :— they have not all the same mental endowments, and therefore necessarily measure events by very different standards. Some applaud what others censure with acrimony; and that which advances us in the good opinion of this person, will depress us proportionably in the estimation of that. Some are unable to guide the powers of reason to any right purpose, and thus suffer their passions always to command their judgment. Directed wholly by the blind impulse of imagination, by groundless prejudices and partialities, their course is usually the most peremptory and obstinate; they are hardly capable of change or mitigation. Touch them, however involuntarily, and you rouse the hornet's nest. Where they possess power, they will sting to the very soul; where they have none, still are heard the murmurings of their fretfulness, the impotent hum of their discontent, and the restless flutter of their tumid fancies. Some discover cause of enmity in the prosperous condition of their neighbours. Cain abhorred his brother, because God preferred his offering. The kindred of Joseph were mortally offended because of their father's partial love for the first-born of his favourite Rachel. Saul was enraged with David,

because his gallant exploits drew on him the joyful acclamations of the people. The Babylonian Princes maligned Daniel, simply because he enjoyed the favour of the King, and a dignity corresponding to his merits.

But the fatal rock on which peaceable intentions are inevitably shattered, and which no prudent steerage of our course can obviate, is the unreasonable pretension which admits no peace unless we will concur in practices at once unwarrantable and dishonest: such as either the express command of God, or the evident dictates of right reason, constrain us to avoid. Highly valuable as the good-will of our neighbours should be esteemed, there is yet a higher rate to be placed upon the favour of God, and on the satisfaction of a good conscience. And never can we be justified in gaining the one at the expense of the other.

But, my brethren, much of our private interests we both may and ought to sacrifice for the great blessing of mutual confidence and quiet. How calm the mind, how composed the affections, how serene the countenance of that man who neither meditates mischief against others, nor suspects it to be active against himself! How sweet his sleep! how contentedly he pursues "the even tenor of his way!" But, on the contrary, how utterly loathsome is a life of enmity! how intolerable the solicitude of days consumed

heaven; yet, said the ungrateful people, "There is no bread, neither is there any water; and our soul loatheth this light bread." Insatiable and dissatisfied, they tortured themselves with their desires for that which could not be attained, and complained of what they enjoyed, simply because they enjoyed it!

A conduct of this kind, is not, however, confined to the people of Israel. At all subsequent periods, have feelings of dissatisfaction found their way without right or reason, and frequently in opposition to both. But at no time, perhaps, have "the people" been more ready "to speak against God, and against Moses," than in the present times. "Discouraged because of the way," which presents, indeed, sufficient hardships and perils to demand a more steady union and a more cordial fellowship, they break forth into continual discord. They speak evil of dignities; they murmur; and, like a chariot wheel set on fire by the rapidity of its motion, they are consumed by their own violent passions and insubordinate hopes. Having outraged man, they stop not to outrage their Maker. They scoff at religion; speak of its ministers with contempt; and, in the licentiousness of their hearts, exclaim with the people of Israel," Our soul loatheth this light bread." "There is no bread, neither is there any water." Impatience under affliction is not far removed from frenzy; and when they

who suffer are unable to wreak their fury upon men, they will not hesitate to blaspheme and dishonour their Creator and Redeemer! So did the Israelites; and so does the unruly licentiousness of all ages! But with what result? "The Lord sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people; and much people of Israel died."

The fiery serpents of the wilderness are said to have been winged like bats; and to be termed fiery, either because of their colour, or of the excessive thirst and heat which their poison communicated. Their bite was incurable by any art then known; and the effect was rendered yet more direful by the difficulty which at times existed, of moistening the parched and shrivelled lips. The more barren and sandy the deserts, the more numerous and venomous were these avenging ministers of the Lord; and, while the hapless pilgrim was overcome by fatigue or exhausted by abstinence, they were beheld hovering above him, or twining their slim and shining folds around his tortured body. As the unconscious parent pressed her offspring to her bosom, she suddenly distinguished the elevated head and flashing eyes and forked tongue of the reptile ready to strike her child; or, whilst administering its milky nutriment, experienced the fatal sting which left her dead in its terrific embrace. Perhaps the Hebrew warrior falls headlong from

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his bounding steed while furiously impelling it along, struck by the commissioned avenger. Whether clinging to the half-scaled rock or almost buried in the hot and suffocating heaps of sand, he feels the deadly gripe of his inexorable foe; and writhes in all the agonies of punished and despairing crime. Tears and cries and prayers avail not; the noisy execrations of madness or the gasping moans of hopeless remorse!

In this extremity of wretchedness, they at length turned again to their God and bent in supplication to Him. "The people then came to Moses, and said, We have sinned, for we have spoken against the Lord and against thee." That which all the earnest persuasions of the Jewish legislator-all the mercies of indulgent Heavenall the remembrance of past afflictions, had not been able to effect, the serpents signally achieved -the sting of justice admirably perfected! The ungrateful crowds now flock around their leader -now, on bended knee, implore forgiveness; now, with dejected eyes and humbled heart, seek out a mediator between them and Heaven. "Pray unto the Lord," they cried, "that he take away the serpents from us." Of him, whom they had scorned and calumniated, they are reduced to implore assistance! Of him, from whom they had turned in anger and in hatred, they are compelled to solicit peace and love! The proud heart of ingratitude is lowered to the