This necessity became "the mother of invention," and has been rendered the means of calling into action those mental faculties which would otherwise have remained in a great measure dormant.

But as it was not the intention that any thing in this sublunary state should, after the fall, be perfect, several evils have arisen from the system, though not necessarily inherent in it. One of these is the growth and nourishment of an intense selfishness. In the progress of society, a competition takes place. Every man labours for himself. His schemes, his toils, his hopes, and his fears, are centered in one great object, the acquirement, first, of the necessaries, then of the comforts, and then again of the luxuries and honours of life. There is, assuredly, in this employment a tendency to contract the mind and harden the heart. But there are many counteracting tendencies. Man is not an isolated being. He is a member of a family and of society. He is drawn out of himself by a thousand domestic and social ties. First, as a son, and afterwards as a husband and father, his benevolent affections are exercised. He mingles among friends and neighbours, and his social sympathies are awakened; the interests of his tribe or his country are at stake, and a principle of patriotism extends and exalts his views. As his intercourse enlarges, and his mind expands, he finds himself connected in various ways with distant countries, and he learns to feel an interest in all his fellow-creatures. The result of such discipline is that fine sentiment of the Roman poet,— "Homo sum; humani nihil a me alienum puto."

In few minds, however, is an effect so salutary actually produced. It is not to be concealed that the moral disorder of the human mind appears in nothing more strikingly, than in the perverseness with which it rejects what is ennobling in the discipline of Providence, and adopts sentiments and practices which tend to debase

* I am a man, and think nothing relating to man foreign to myself.Terence Heaut., Act I, sect. 1, 1. 25.

ment. Occasionally we may find a Socrates or an Aristotle, a Cicero or an Epictetus, breaking through the dark cloud in which society is naturally enveloped, soaring into a purer atmosphere, and expatiating in the light of heaven. But these are rare instances, exceptions which only confirm the general rule. Nothing can be more true or more important, than the conclusion which was forced on the wisest of these philosophers, that a revelation from heaven was necessary, to remove the ignorance and correct the evils which prevailed in the world.

Such a revelation has been vouchsafed to us; and in its whole spirit and tendency it is remarkable for nothing so much, as the manner in which it is framed for the counteraction of that selfishness, which is the besetting sin of our nature. Its leading principle is love. It represents the Eternal as a God of love, sending his beloved Son to save an apostate world. The character and offices of the Saviour himself are peculiarly calculated to inculcate the same principle. He not only came with an errand of love, but his own heart was full and overflowing with the same sentiment. His incarnation, his life of voluntary humility and suffering, his death of ignominy and torture, were all most amazing and heartaffecting indications of love; and these indications were heightened by every possible enhancement. The infinite dignity and purity of His nature, the extreme degradation and worthlessness of ours, the immensity of his generous sacrifice, contrasted with the ingratitude and enmity of those for whom it was made,—all are so inexpressibly transcendant, that the mind is overwhelmed in the contemplation; and while we desire to know "the breadth and length, and depth and heighth" of this love, we are forced with an apostlę to confess, that it "passeth knowledge."

"

For favours generously conferred, gratitude and affection are the natural return; and the effect of these labours of love, when duly appreciated, is to excite a cor

* Ephesians, iii. 18, 19.

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responding feeling in the human heart. Not only, however, are our dispositions naturally perverted, but our perception of divine things is obtuse, and it is not till our understandings are illuminated by the light of Heaven, that the divine blessings are spiritually discerned." When that faith, which is "the evidence of things not seen," takes possession of the soul, the whole astonishing scheme stands revealed, and the Christian principle is implanted. We then come not merely to understand but to appreciate the dying injunction of him by whose holy name we are called,-"A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another."

With this sentiment in the heart, the whole operations of society acquire a new aspect, and seem regulated on a new principle. It is a remarkable part of the providential arrangement of human life, that every transaction has a bearing on the interests, not only of the individual, but of his fellows. No man can, by his lawful industry, benefit himself, without at the same time benefiting the community in which he dwells. His personal profit or enjoyment adds to the general stock, not merely because all communities are composed of individuals, but, in a still more extended sense, as contributing something to the welfare of others. The agriculturist tills his ground, and raises food not merely for himself, but for those who follow other occupations; he introduces improvements into his plan of operations, and these improvements not only bring a greater quantity of food into the market from his own farm, but are the means of advancing the whole agricultural wealth of the country, by giving rise to imitation and rivalry. A similar observation may be made regarding any other profession. The schoolmaster teaches; the manufacturer converts the raw material into clothing; the mechanic constructs machinery,-all not more for themselves than for others; and every improvement made in these arts advances the general welfare. There is here a deep foun

dation laid for the operation of the benevolent principle; and although this principle, in all its fulness, may not be naturally felt, yet when once induced by the power of that "wisdom which cometh from above," it discovers a vast and constantly expanding field for its exercise. The labour is the same, but the motive is purified and exalted. The Christian still, indeed, follows his lawful occupation, because he thus "provides for his own and specially for those of his own house;" but with the pleasing consciousness dwelling on his mind, that he is at the same time advancing the prosperity, and contributing to the happiness of the community. He cherishes this benevolent sentiment in his heart. He modifies his operations, so as constantly to keep in view the beautiful arrangement of Providence, and to cause the current of his own business to coincide with the stream of divine bounty. This motive ennobles his mind, and gives a higher character to all his operations. From being the mere selfish artificer of his own fortunes, he has become a generous benefactor of his species, " a fellow worker together with God."*

* 1 Timothy, v. 8.

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FOURTH WEEK-SUNDAY.

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CHRISTIANS MEMBERS ONE OF ANOTHER."

THE striking parable by which a Roman statesman composed the minds of his fellow citizens, and brought them back to reason, at a time when the people were on the point of raising a formidable rebellion against their rulers, was founded on the union and dependance on each other of the different members of the human body; and the very same image is more than once made use of by the Apostle Paul, to enforce the reasonableness, the duty, and the necessity of mutual sympathy and good offices among Christians. The Apostle, however, takes much higher ground, and, by the aid of Revelation, is enabled to give a more noble and important character to his argument. He represents Christ as our head, and believers as members of His spiritual body. Nothing can more emphatically express the entire dependance of Christians on their Divine Master. The head is the seat of thought, and the chief residence of the senses. Without it, we cannot live for a single moment; and, if we could, all the enjoyments of life would be gone. There would be neither smell, nor taste, nor hearing, nor sight; neither discernment nor knowledge; nothing would remain but a mere animal, or rather vegetable, existence, without intelligence and without pleasure. In a similar manner, Christ, as our Spiritual Head, is the source of life and happiness. Without him, we would be dead to all spiritual sense, spiritual discernment, and spiritual knowledge. We might live, indeed-alas! how many live without Christ!—but the light of life would be wanting; there would be darkness and insensibility,— low and grovelling views and desires;—all that is noble and excellent in the soul would be dead, and we should be as the brutes that perish.