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passions, because he is aware, that every excessive indulgence strikes a balance of suffering against him, which he must discharge soon, or late; and helps to forge a chain of habit, that will render it more difficult for him to resist the next temptation to indulgence. Ile will rise early from sleep, because nature calls him to early rising, in all her cheerful voices, in the matin song of birds, the balmy morning freshness and elasticity of the air, and the renovated cry of joy from the whole animal creation. He will do this, because he has early heard complaints from all sides of the shortness of life, and because he is sensible, that he who rises every day two hours before the common period, will prolong the ordinary duration of life by adding six years of the pleasantest part of existence. He will rise early, because next after the intemperate, no human being offers a more unworthy spectacle, than is presented by the man, who calls himself rational and immortal, who sees before him a greater amount of knowledge, duty and happiness, than he could hope to compass in a thousand years; and who yet turns himself indolently from side to side, during the hours of the awakening of nature, enjoying only the luxury of a savage or a brute, in a state of dozing existence little superior to the dreamless sleep of the grave. I test the character of a youth of whom I wish to entertain hope, by this criterion. If he can nobly resist his propensities, if he can act from reason against his inclinations, if he can trample indolence under foot, if he can always make the effort to show the intellectual in the ascendant over the animal being, I note him as one, who will be worthy of eminence, whether he attain it or not.

Such

In a word, there is something of dignity and intellectual grandeur in the aspect of the young, who live in obedience to the organic and moral laws, which commands at once that undefined, and almost unconscious estimation and respect, which all minds involuntarily pay to true greatness. was the image of the poet, when he delineated the angel severe in youthful beauty; and such that of the Mantuan, when he compares Neptune rebuking and hushing the winds, to a venerable man, allaying by his words of peace, the uproar of an infuriated populace,

THE TENDENCY OF THE SCIENCE OF MIND.

THE study of the powers and limits of the understanding, and of the sources of evidence in external nature and ourselves, instead of either forming or favoring a tendency to scepticism, is the surest, or rather the only mode, of removing the danger of such a tendency. That mind may soon doubt even of the most important truths, which has never learned to distinguish the doubtful from the true. But to know well the irresistible evidence on which truth is founded, is to believe in it, and to believe in it forever.

Nor is it from the danger of scepticism only, that a just view of the principles of his intellectual constitution tends to preserve the philosophic inquirer. It saves him, also from that presumptuous and haughty dogmatism, which, though free from doubt, is not, therefore, necessarily free from error; and which is, indeed, much more likely to be fixed in error than in truth, where the inquiry, that precedes conviction, has been casual and incomplete. A just view of our nature as intelligent beings, at the same time that it teaches us enough of our strength to allow us to rest with confidence on the great principles, physical, moral, and religious, in which alone it is of importance for us to confide, teaches us also enough of our weakness, to render us indulgent to the weakness of others. We cease to be astonished that multitudes should differ from us; because we know well, that while nature has made a provision for the universal assent of mankind to those fundamental physical truths, which are essential to their very existence, and those fundamental truths of another kind, which are equally essential to their existence as subjects of moral government, she has left them, together with principles of improvement that ensure their intellectual progress, a susceptibility of error without which there could be no progression; and while we almost trace back the circumstances which have modified our own individual belief, we cannot but be aware, at the same time, how many sources there are of prejudice, and, consequently, of difference of opinion, in the various situations in which the multitudes, that differ from us, have been placed. To feel anger at human error, says an ancient philosopher, is the same thing as if we were to be angry with those who stumble in the dark, with the deaf for not obeying our command,

with the sick, with the aged,-with the weary. That very dulness of discernment, which excites at once our wonder and our wrath, is but a part of the general frailty of mortality; and the love of our errors is not less inherent in our constitution than error itself. It is this general constitution which is to be studied by us, that we may know with what mistakes and weaknesses we must have to deal, when we have to deal with our fellow men; and the true art, therefore, of learning to forgive individuals, is to learn first how much we have to forgive to the whole human race.

How much of the fury of the persecuting spirit of darker ages would have been softened and turned into moderation, by juster views of the nature of man, and of all the circumstances on which belief depends! It appears to us so very easy to believe what we consider as true,—or, rather, it appears to us so impossible to disbelieve it,--that, if we judge from our own momentary feelings only, without any knowledge of the general nature of belief, and of all the principles in our mental constitution by which it is diversified, we very naturally look on the dissent of others as a sort of wilful and obstinate contrariety, and as an insulting denial of a right of approbation, which we consider ourselves, in these circumstances, as very justly entitled to claim. The transition from this supposed culpability to the associated ideas of pains and penalties, is a very natural one; and there is, therefore, a sufficient fund of persecution in mere ignorance, though the spirit of it were not, as it usually is, aggravated by degrading notions of the divine Being, and false impressions of religious duty. Very different are the sentiments which the science of mind produces and cherishes. makes us tolerant, not merely by showing the absurdity of endeavoring to overcome, by punishment, a belief which does not depend on suffering; but which may remain, and even gather additional strength, in imprisonment, in exile, under the axe, and at the stake. The absurdity of every attempt of this kind it shows indeed; but it makes us feel, still more intimately, that injustice of it, which is worse than absurdity, by shewing our common nature, in all the principles of truth and error, with those whom we would oppress; all having faculties that may lead to truth, and tendencies of various kinds which may mislead to error, and the mere accidental and temporary difference of power being, if not the greatest at least the most obvious circumstances, which, in all ages, has distinguished the persecutor from the persecuted.

It

Let not this weak, unknowing hand,
Presume thy bolts to throw;
Or deal damnation round the land,
On all I judge thy foe!

If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay;

If I am wrong,-O, teach my heart,
To find the better way.

Such is the language of devout philosophy. No proud assertion of individual infallibility,-no triumph over the consequences in others, of a fallible nature, which ourselves partake in common, but the expression of feelings more suited to earthly weakness,—of a modest joy of belief, which is not less delightful for the humility that tempers it; and of a modest sorrow for the seeming errors of others, to which the consciousness of our own nature gives a sympathy of warmer interest. The more important the subject of difference, the greater, not the less, will be the indulgence of him who has learned to trace the source of human error,-of error, that has its origin not in our weakness and imperfection merely, but often in the most virtuous affections of the heart, -in that respect for age, and admiration of virtue, and gratitude for kindness received, which make the opinions of those whom we love and honor seem to us, in our early years, as little questionable, as the virtues which we love to contemplate, or the very kindness which we feel at every moment beaming on our heart, in the tender protection that surrounds us. That the subjects on which we may differ from others, are important to happiness, of course implies, that it is no slight misfortune to have erred; and that the mere error, therefore, must be already too great an evil to require any addition from our individual contempt or indignation, far less. from the vengeance of public authority, that may be right, in the opinions which it conceives to be insulted by partial dissent; but which must be wrong, in the means which it takes to avenge them. To be sincerely thankful for truths received, is, by the very nature of the feeling, to be sensible how great a blessing those have lost who are deprived of the same enjoyment; and to look down, then, with insolent disdain, on the unfortunate victim of error, is, indeed, to render contemptible,-as far as it is in our feeble power to render it contemptible, not the error which we despise, but the truth which allows us to despise it.

THE WAR-HORSE.

HAST thou given the horse strength?

Job.

Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?

Hast thou taught him to bound like the locust?
How terrible the noise of his nostrils!

He paweth in the valley; he exulteth in his strength,
And rusheth into the midst of arms.

He laugheth at fear; he trembleth not,
And turneth not back from the sword.
Against him rattleth the quiver,

The glittering spear, and the lance.

With rage and fury he devoureth the ground;
He standeth not still, when the trumpet soundeth.
He saith among the trumpets, Aha! aha!

And snuffeth the battle afar off;

The thunder of the captains, and the shouting.

THE WRETCHEDNESS OF THE WICKED.

BEHOLD! the light of the wicked shall be put out,
And the flame of his fire shall not shine.
Light shall become darkness in his tabernacle,
And his lamp over him shall be extinguished,
The steps of his strength shall be straitened,
And his own counsel shall cast him down.
He is brought into the net by his own feet,
And he walketh upon toils.

The springe layeth hold of him by the heel,
And the snare holdeth him fast.

A net is secretly laid for him on the ground,
Anda trap for him in the pathway.

Terrors assail him on every side,

And pursue him at his heels.
His strength is wasted by hunger,
And ruin is present at his side.

His limbs are consumed;

Job.

Yea, his limbs are devoured by the first-born of death. His confidence is torn away from his tabernacle,

And he is brought before the king of terrors;

Terror dwells in the tabernacle, no longer his;

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