best secure the end of all the divine dispensations-the sanctification of their nature. We may not, at the present, be able to see the necessity that has prompted the affliction, nor the advantages which it is calculated to produce, because we do not fully know either ourselves, our defects, or our maladies; and therefore we cannot judge properly of the means employed to cure and improve us. But of this we may be assured, that he never errs' in the time, the place, the continuance, the instrument, or the kind of affliction ;—it is precisely the very thing we need; and nothing could be altered without injury.

How conspicuous, also, is his paternal mercy. There is much mercy mingled in the bitterest cup that ever our heavenly father puts into our hand. "He hath not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities." How merciful have been our afflictions in the degree of their severity. Take your sufferings and place them at the side of your deserts. Think how you have sinned against God;— how you have requited his love, and abused his patience ;how little fruit you have brought forth, and how little service you have rendered; and then say, what would you have suffered if you had met with your deserts? May you not exclaim with the prophet, "it is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not?" How merciful in their number. Oh! how few have they been, compared with your mercies. Of this fact it is sometimes difficult to persuade the afflicted: the pressure of present suffering obliterates the recollection of past mercies. Life is beheld in all its gloom, and is regarded only as a scene of wretchedness and sorrow. But this argues both injustice and ingratitude. Think how many weeks, and months, and years, you have passed in health, and ease, and comfort; how many pleasurable feelings you have had; how many friends you have enjoyed; how many blessings of various kinds you have tasted; and you will be constrained to acknowledge that you

your own.

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have much more abundant cause for thanksgiving than for complaint. How merciful in comparison with those of others. Your affliction can scarcely be so great, but you may discover among your fellow creatures some whose sufferings exceed You have lost part of your substance; but they have lost all. You have buried one of your children; but of their's not one is left to stay the tide of sorrow. You have days, perhaps mouths, of dreariness and solitude; they spend their days in groaning, and their nights in anguish. Can the review of such a distinction fail to inspire, not only submission, but consolation? How merciful in their alleviation. evils we suffer are never without some mixture of good. As there is no condition on earth of pure unmixed felicity, so there is none so miserable as to be destitute of every comfort. Do you mourn the loss of some beloved friend? are there not others remaining from whom you may expect much comfort? Is your body afflicted? have you not reason to be thankful that your mind continues vigorous and entire? Are you poor and despised? but have you not the favour and enjoyment of God? and can he be despicable who is favoured with the special friendship of the sovereign Majesty of the universe? Can he be miserable, or destitute, who hath the Lord for his portion, who enjoyeth the fountain of all happiness, and who hath the light of God's countenance to cheer him, and the consolations of the divine Spirit to comfort and refresh him? Have you lost your worldly substance? still you have the assurance of "an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." "I one day," says Mr. Newton, "visited a family that had suffered by a fire, which had destroyed all the house and the goods. I found the pious mistress in tears. I said, madam, I give you joy.' Surprised, and ready to be offended, she exclaimed, what! joy that all my property is consumed?' 'I give you joy that you have so much property that no fire can touch.' This checked

the tide of grief, and she wiped away her tears, and smiled like the sun shining after an April shower." How merciful also, as to the manner in which they have approached us. We have not beheld the whole scene of human life at once. Its sorrows have not burst forth upon us in their combined and aggravated form: God hath not suffered us to be tried beyond what we were able to bear; and in all cases our sufferings have been mitigated by the promise of divine assistance and support.

Another source of consolation is the contrast which exists betwixt the different tendencies of prosperity and adversity. Prosperity elates the mind to a degree altogether unsuited to our dependence and our guilt ;-affliction mortifies aud abases it. It is when we have all and abound, that we are apt to forget and deny God;-it is in trouble we say, "it is the Lord;" as the first impressions of superior agency are supposed to have been derived not from the splendour of summer, or the plenty of autumn, but from the tempest and the earthquake, the thunder and the pestilence. Prosperity contributes to the indulgence of our carnal passions and appetites; -poverty, by the restrictions and pains it imposes, checks and mortifies them. Prosperity enervates and unfits us for exertion and for trial ;-poverty is a school in which we learn fortitude and patience: it is by its discipline that these graces are exercised and strengthened, as the mountain oak hardens to the blast, and gathers firmness from the storm which threatens its existence. Prosperity induces selfishness; the young man, who had large possessions, refused to part with them to feed the poor, though treasures in heaven were to be the recompense of his sacrifice:-affliction teaches sympathy; it gives us the experience of a sufferer's heart, and this impels us to shed the sympathetic tear, to dry the weeping eye, to sooth the throbbing breast, and to contribute to the happiness and welfare of men. Prosperity conceals from us our

spiritual wants, as the Laodiceans, who, when rich and increased in goods, fondly presumed that they stood in need of nothing, whereas God pronounced them to be "wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked;”—adversity, by shewing us our destitution and helplessness, causes us to have recourse to the consolations, the hopes, and the supports of religion. To the poor was the gospel originally preached, and by the poor it is still most cordially embraced. Prosperity is an opiate to the conscience ;-affliction rouses it from its lethargy, causes it to connect suffering with guilt, and thus to place our sins before our face. Prosperity draws the soul from God;-affliction recalls to duty those whom the bounty of providence could not keep in the ways of the Lord. Prosperity is the sultry heat that generates disease;-affliction the storm that purifies the atmosphere. Prosperity is the unruffled deep, and the gentle breeze, when a novice may guide the vessel; it is the time of peace, when the coward may boast; -but adversity is the tempest, and the conflict, where skill and courage are put to the test. Prosperity induces an abhorrence of death: O! how bitter is the thought of death to a man who is at ease in his possessions, who is living in the sunshine of worldly ease and enjoyment;-adversity causes us to regard it as a welcome retreat from toil and suffering; as the haven where the tempestuous voyage is to terminate; the home where the exile is to find a recompense for his privations and woes.

In the contrast thus drawn, it is not meant to be insinuated, that they whom providence blesses with prosperity do always abuse its bounty, and render it subservient to their spiritual injury. The guilt of the rich man in the gospel did not consist in his possessing wealth, any more than the salvation of Lazarus depended merely upon his poverty and disease. The grace of God is not confined to any condition or rank in life: it is limited to none;-it can sanctify all. But, from the effects

which have been described, we are taught the salutary nature of those adverse dispensations of which we are so prone to complain. Like children we wish for every indulgence, regardless of the good or evil which may be produced. Thus wealth and prosperity are viewed as alone desirable, and affliction is dreaded as the greatest evil. Alas! "who knoweth what is good for man in this life?" Were we permitted to climb the height to which we aspire, perhaps it would only be a prelude to a fall, from which we might never arise. Let us learn then to consider the afflictions of life as the merciful visitations of heaven.

The promises are declara

The great and precious promises of the gospel supply us with strong consolation. The word of promise is the soul's great comfort in time of trouble. "This," says the Psalmist, "is my comfort in my affliction." tive of the nature and will of God. Here, as in a glass, we behold his glory in the face of Jesus Christ. As his holiness shines resplendent in his commands, and his justice in his threatenings, so in his promises we see the manifestation of his goodness, and grace, and bounty. They present us with the full impression of the paternal character of the Deity. They furnish the most convincing evidence that he "is love." The most pathetic language, the most endearing relations, the most tender images, are employed, to convey to us an idea of his goodness. In the time of trouble, therefore, our views of God are to be regulated, not by the fears and perplexities of our minds, but by the revelation he has thus made of himself. The promises are also declarations of God's will and purposes towards those who seek him; and they are made in a manner suited to our diversified conditions and wants. They all proceed from the same fountain of grace, but are branched out into innumerable streams, to meet our varied necessities. There is no condition in which we can find ourselves for which there is not some appropriate promise suited to our case,