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As a further proof, we may observe, that an overfondness of life is generally shewn by those who are exceedingly fearful of death, and who are ready to own, that the thought of it, whenever it recurs, is most painful and bitter, Single out a man who has plunged deeply into all the gaiety and pleasures that the world affords. Try his real sentiments: and he will fairly own, that his enjoyments have never answered his expectation; that he has found them insipid ; and that, if he could live his days over again, he would not fix his heart upon them. Why, then, does he still pursue the same track? For this plain reason:-because the fear of death is still before him, and makes him lay the faster hold on the remnant of his days, persuading him to live and to enjoy, as long as he can. Unmanly pleasures have already enervated his mind. The fear of death has made him a coward, and will keep him so. Where the true end of life is so little understood, and the intellectual faculty is thus stupified, no wonder that the haunts of folly are, for the sake of amusement, resorted to, and that every thing which has a tendency to seriousness, is studiously avoided. Any objects that serve to flatter the imagination, are eagerly pursued; and schemes that never can be accomplished are formed, and persisted in, as obstinately as if their success were infallible. Thus it is, that an exorbitant value is set upon things which are worthless in themselves, and which, when they are put to the test, yield no satisfaction. Sordid views, a vitiated taste,

and irregular appetites, will grow extravagant; men will become daily more and more desperate; they will be mean and selfish; and they will do any thing, be it ever so base, to extract some chimerical pleasure even from the dregs of life, and to keep the mind insensible to the dreadful approach of death. But

2. The fear of death must either be surmounted, or be reduced within reasonable bounds ;-otherwise the offices of life cannot be discharged as they ought, nor can our moral and religious duties be sufficiently performed.

And here it is not meant, that the mind should be inured to such a contempt of death, as to be entirely regardless of life, and callous to all the circumstances of human intercourse.

To preserve both strength

and calmness in the soul, our hopes and fears should be prudently regulated. We should neither be depressed by timidity, nor excited into rashness. We should not look upon death as a tyrant, or as a flattering siren. The proper medium is to be observed, between the two extremes; so that we may not cling too fondly to life, nor, on the other hand, be too desirous of our dissolution.

Reason and religion must be our aids, to enable us to form a right estimate of that change of being which awaits us. We shall then be prepared to view it as it is in itself, and stripped of all its imaginary terrors; as it is natural to our species, and rendered inevitable by the wise decree of the Almighty.-But here, the

VOL. II.

E

desponding heart takes alarm, and utters its cheerless apprehensions." To die,-to sink into the cold grave, to see the light no more,-to be cut off, like the flowers of the field;-to be separated from all that is dear to us, before our schemes are perfected, before our desires are satisfied; to leave our friends, relations, and families behind us, mourning, weeping, and lamenting :-how bitter is the thought!" Such pleas are pathetic, they are specious, they are natural; but that they are not so entirely natural as to be absolutely necessary, a little consideration will de

monstrate.

There are in the mind, aversions stronger than the aversion to death. In weak and grovelling minds, a fear of pain, of calamity, and of shame has, sometimes a greater influence ;-in more generous and elevated minds, the fear of seeing our friends oppressed, our country ruined, or the consciences of our brethren tyrannically awed, will set us boldly on confronting death, and hazarding life on such glorious occasions. Must not, indeed, the aversion to death be quite mastered, in those who aspire to nobility of character? Else, where would be the heroes, who die for their country?-where would be the martyrs, who die for their religion ?-how could any one public affection exert itself?—in what single object could true honour appear?-and what would fortitude be, but a mere name without a meaning? Death must be thought and acknowledged to be, beneath consideration, when compared with a prostitution of honour

and virtue, with an inward abhorrence of ourselves for base compliances, with perpetual disgrace, with our own slavery, or with the public misery.

It is, therefore, evident, that there are many possible cases, in which death would, without hesitation, be preferred to life. It cannot, then, in itself, be so very great an evil as some persons imagine; for if it were, it must be so in every instance and on every occasion,—the contrary of which is undeniably true. To dread it, from a mere fondness for life, is the mark of an abject spirit. To dread it, because it will deprive us of doing good to others, is not a sufficient motive; since, for the good of others, life is honourably exposed, and sometimes sacrificed. An admired circle of friends, a train of dear relations, and a tender offspring, may claim an interest in us; and we may think that their chief support, and their best hopes in life, depend entirely upon us. This may, and frequently must be, in a great measure, true; and, indeed, such care, such kind regard for others, are praise-worthy in themselves, when they are moderate, and not carried to an overweening excess; for there are many distressful events in life, which every one would wish to ward off from himself, and from those who are dear to him: but a wise man should never anticipate evil, so as to torment himself with keen apprehensions before the stroke has visited him. He will consider, that an orphan is not always the more miserable for being an orphan; as he often acquires a vigour of mind and a strength of character, such

as he could not have acquired in too delicate an education and amidst parental fondness:-and, apply. ing the same reasoning to other subjects of anxiety, he will husband his life to the best advantage that he can; but he will not shrink and lose his constancy, at the prospect of death.

It must, however, be acknowledged, that death contains a greater fear than any yet mentioned,—the fear of an hereafter:-but that a Christian should suffer such a fear to prevail too much upon him, must be rather a sin than an error, if he knows the true purport of the Gospel, and remembers that the doctrine of futurity, as it is there revealed, teaches us to conquer that fear, and to pass through our present existence with fortitude and with hope.

"The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law." We know that a breach of the divine commands is sinful. We know that the path of duty is clearly traced, and that if we depart from it, the fault is our own. We know and feel, that, in some instances, we have neglected our duty; and that, in others, we have transgressed it. The consciousness of this neglect and transgression excites our fears; and such fears are neither groundless nor wrong: they are the natural workings of conscience upon the heart. But then, are we not told that repentance and reformation will restore us to God's favour, through the mediation of Christ? Has not God expressly declared, that "when the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed,