of the soul in its first separation from the body, with regard to that invisible world which every where surrounds us, though we are not able to discover it through this grosser world of matter; which is accommodated to our senses in this life. His words are as follows:

4. "That death, which is our leaving this world, is nothing else but our putting off these bodies, teaches us, that it is only our union to these bodies, which intercepts the sight of the other world: The other world is not at such a distance from us, as we may imagine; the Throne of God indeed is at a great remove from this earth, above the third Heavens, where he displays his glory to those blessed spirits which encompass his Throne: But as soon as we step out of these bodies, we step into the other world; which is not so properly another world, (for there is the same heaven and earth still) as a new state of life. To live in these bodies is to live in this world; to live out of them is to remove into the next:

5. "For while our souls are confined to these bodies, and can look only through these material casements, nothing but what is material can effect us; nay, nothing but what is so gross, that it can reflect light, and convey the shapes and colours of things with it to the eye:

6. "So that though within this visible world, there be a more glorious scene of things than what appears to us, we perceive nothing at all of it; for this veil of flesh parts the visible and the invisible world: But when we put off these bodies, there are new and surprising wonders presenting themselves to our views; when these material spectacles are taken off, the soul, with its own naked eyes, sees what was invisible before:

7. "And then we are in the other world, when we can see it, and converse with it. Thus St. Paul tells us, that 'when we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord; but when we are absent from the body, we are present with the Lord.' 2 Cor. v. 6, 8.

8. "And methinks this is enough to cure us of our fondness for these bodies, unless we think it more desirable to be confined to a prison, and to look through a grate all our lives, which gives us but a very narrow prospect, and that none of the best, than to be set at liberty to view all the glories of the world. What would we give now for the

least glimpse of that invisible world, which the first step we take out of these bodies will present us with?

9. "There are such things as 'eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive:' Death opens our eyes, enlarges our prospect, presents us with a new and more glorious world, which we can never see while we are shut up in the flesh; which should make us as willing to part with this veil, as to take the film off our eyes, which hinders our sight.

10. "As a thinking man cannot but be very much affected with the idea of his appearing in the presence of that Being 'whom none can see and live;' he must be much more affected when he considers that this Being whom he appears before, will examine all the actions of his past life, and reward or punish him accordingly. I must confess that I think there is no scheme of religion, besides that of Christianity, which can possibly support the most virtuous person under this thought.

11. "Let a man's innocence be what it will, let his virtues rise to the highest pitch of perfection attainable in this life, there will be still in him so many secret sins, so many human frailties, so many offences of ignorance, passion, and prejudice, so many unguarded words and thoughts, and, in short, so many defects in his best actions, that, without the advantages of such an expiation and atonement as Christianity has revealed to us, it is impossible that he should be cleared before his Sovereign Judge, or that he should be able to stand in his sight.'

12. "Our holy religion suggests to us the only means whereby our guilt may be taken away, and our imperfect obedience accepted."

13. It is this series of thought that I have endeavoured to express in the following hymn, which I have composed during this, my sickness:

1. When rising from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,

I see my Maker face to face,

O how shall I appear!

2. If yet, while pardon may be found,
And mercy may be sought,

My heart with inward horror shrinks,
And trembles at the thought;

H

3. When thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd
In Majesty severe,

And sit in judgment on my soul,
O how shall I appear!

4. But thou hast told the troubled mind,
Who does her sins lament,
The timely tribute of her tears
Shall endless wo prevent.

5. Then see the sorrow of

Ere yet it be too late;

my heart,

And hear my Saviour's dying groans,
To give those sorrows weight.

6. For never shall my

soul despair

Her pardon to procure,

Who knows thy only Son has died
To make her pardon sure.

ADDISON.

LESSON XXXVIII.

On Death.

1. In a late solitary ramble, I insensibly wandered near to a church-yard; the mild rays of the moon threw a delightful radiance over the surrounding scenery, and conspired, with the stillness of the night, to fill me with those pleasing melancholy feelings, of which those who have never experienced them can have no adequate idea.

2. It was "that very witching time of eve," when the soul, freed from the noise and bustle of the day, and escaped from the din and distraction of the city, is prepared to feel the force of those reflections which will inevitably arise in the mind of the man accustomed to think, especially when all around is as still as the foot of time, and when the quiet of the grave seems to have rendered every thing in its environs, as silent as the lifeless tenants who inhabit its gloom.

3. There is something appalling in the thought of death, even to those whose lives have been spent in the unblameable performance of moral and religious duties; but the reflection becomes dreadful and revolting, when unattended

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by those comfortable hopes, springing from a consciousness of rectitude.

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4. Humanity shudders at the anticipation of the dreadful moment, in which she shall bid adieu to all that is earthly; and we are constantly seeking some method to shake off every consideration which reminds us of mortality, or busily employed in endeavouring to persuade our minds to a belief that the time is far distant.

5. Nothing, however, is better calculated to lead us to a correct mode of thinking on the subject, than the solemn examples we have before us when viewing the graves of the departed; we there behold the clods which cover the hoary head of age, and the turf gently rising over the smiling cheek of infancy.

6. Here lies one who perished in the bloom of youth,/ and there another who has fallen in the prime and vigour of manhood. These all (if I may be allowed the expression,) / cry from the tomb, remember man, thou also art mortal. But how unmindful are we of these warnings-how loth! to suppose that what has been their fate, must eventually, perhaps may shortly, be our own.

7. Sometimes, indeed, when death has been brought into our house, when we have been bereaved of a relation, or deprived of a bosom friend, the idea presses itself more closely upon our attention; we attend them to the grave; we hear the echo of the cold earth resound from the casement which encloses the remains of what was once near and dear to us; we let fall the tear of sympathy, and feel the weight of the awful lesson which has just been taught

us.

We return into the confusion of the world-all the / impressions which, a short time since, were so strong and lively, have faded from our hearts, and perhaps, before many days shall have elapsed, oblivion will have thrown her mantle around the memories of those who formerly constituted our delight, and were the solace of our woes.

8. From whence does this forgetfulness, this blind indifference arise? It can only be from a sense of our unfitness to die, from a dread at entering, unprepared, into an unknown state of existence-thus weakly do we put aside every thought of hereafter, and drown the cares of futurity in the pursuit of present objects; and yet how vain and useless are all our attempts to procrastinate the approach of the fell destroyer of the human family.

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9. Health, honours, riches, beauty, oppose but weak and insufficient barriers to his encroachments; he levels all distinctions: the wealthy, the honoured, the most perfect works of God, alike fall victims to his might. Conquerors, like overflowing rivers, may spread terror and desolation over the face of the earth.

10. Fame may sound abroad the lustre of their names; riches may procure them all the luxuries of life, but sooner or later they are obliged to succomb to a power superior to themselves, and though they acknowledge no greater here, yet are they compelled to submit to the requisitions of destiny, and to bow in obedience to the mandate of the greatest conqueror of all.

11. Where are now the Alexanders, the Cæsars, the Scipios, those thunderbolts of war, whose names carried dismay, and whose footsteps were stained with the blood of myriads? They have vanished, they are now no more; the brightness of their glory has sunk into the darkness of the sepulchre, in which their ashes now enjoy that peace which, when living, they denied to the objects of their wrath, and the victims of their insatiate ambition.

12. The learned and the wise are subject to the same general law of nature. He, from whose lips flowed eloquence, grateful as the honey of mount Hybleaus, and he whose every word conveyed some important lesson of wisdom, now mingles his dust in the general mass, in which it cannot be distinguished from that of the most ignorant, the most abject of mankind.

13. Seeing, that at some period, we are all to be summoned hence, does it not become us, as rational creatures, to prepare ourselves for the change, by oftentimes considering on the uncertainty of life, and the certainty of death; and ought we not carefully to avoid delaying our preparations, especially when we call to mind, that the arrows of fate are as like to pierce the youth of twenty years, as the aged of fourscore-let us, then, begin in due season, and not put it off till to-morrow, for to-morrow may be too late; let us seek for consolations against the fear of death, in the practice of virtue, and the enjoyment of religion.

14. These alone are capable of disarming the monster of his terrors, and alone sufficient to give us that fortitude, which will enable us to meet him with firmness and resolution-they leave no sting behind, and we shall look