TRUST IN GOD INCOMPATIBLE WITH THE NEGLECT OF DUTY.

He only can be truly said to confide in God, who waits upon him in his ordinances, in his word, and by earnest supplication to learn his will-who watches narrowly every signal of his providencereceives thankfully every intimation of his pleasure-obeys cheerfully every indication of the divine mind-and employs diligently all the means with which God has furnished him, to promote his own interests in conformity with those of society. Every thing has its season, and "he hath made every thing beautiful in his time." But if the season is suffered to pass away unimproved-all is lost. And who is to be censured? the beneficent Creator, whose unwearied liberality affords a succession of mercies, and an ample supply of good? or the shameless trifler, who neglects the opportunity, and slights the benefactor? "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise." Shall he who suffers the seed time to pass, and his field to lie fallow, accuse Providence because he has no harvest? Oh, ungrateful man! how often did the seasons pass, and lift up their warning voice in vain. Spring, the most beautiful of them all, the earliest and fairest daughter of the year, came-and in accents which charmed the nightingale, said, "Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over, and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is

heard in our land. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise—and come away!" And the insensible trifler slumbered. She scattered her perfumes, and showered her blossoms, and departed. Then came Summer, and found the sluggard asleep. He came, with his face embrowned with labour, and glowing with energy. He wore the circlet of his majesty, a wreath of the fiercest sunbeams-and cried aloud in the voice of his own thunder-"What meanest thou, O sleeper; arise, and call upon thy God." The loiterer was roused, he started up he saw all nature teeming with life, and replete with energy-he gazed for a moment, admired the scene-laid himself down, and slept again. Summer began to veil the intensity of his brightness, and yielded to Autumn-she drew near, with a solemn and gentle pace-—and when she had gathered her ripe clusters, passed by the sleeper, and sprinkled him with her chilling dew-dropswhile she admonished-"Redeem the time-work while it is called day—for the night cometh when no man can work:" and retired, unheard. length when the hollow blast announced the approach of the closing season, and the last sear leat was swept from the tree-the man awoke, to catch the parting gleams of the setting sun-and to see Winter ride on, in his car of storms, driven by the whirlwind, and canopied with clouds and darkness. And while he casts a desponding eye upon the dreary waste of desolation, stretched around him

At

on every side, can such a man presume to arraign the benignity of providence, because he finds himself without shelter, and without provision?

While we avoid negligence, therefore, on the one hand, let us beware of undue anxieties on the other; equally inconsistent as these are with that submission to providence, which, in the use of the prescribed means, confides the whole to the divine paternity. Shall not he, who has brought us hitherto, through every difficulty-through perils seen and unseen-who has sustained us, in the presence of friends and of enemies-who has done for us "exceeding abundantly above all that we could either ask or think"-who has made our strength equal to our day, and his grace sufficient for uswho has disappointed our fears and surpassed our hopes-who has never neglected, never abandoned, never forgotten us-shall not he be trusted with the little of life that remains? "O ye of little faith, wherefore do ye doubt ?"-" Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all other things shall be added unto you." "Take, therefore, no thought," no doubting, anxious, undue thought, "for the morrow :—for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." He who really submits to Providence, is armed against every foe, fortified against every danger-prepared fór every event-superior to every calamity

"His hand the good man fastens on the skiesThen bids the earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl!"

He defies time, chance, and change-for he trusts in Him, who is the same "yesterday, and to day, and forever!"

SOCIAL INTERCOURSE.

BEFORE a man can confer upon society, or receive from it advantages, he must possess social affections, and form social habits. Without the first, he is incapable of deriving satisfaction from intercourse with his fellow-men. If his hopes and his fears, his pleasures and his pains, are selfish, he comes into contact with society by accident only he never seeks its interchanges of kindness: the collision shocks rather than pleases him: he is incapable of association: circumstances may throw him and his neighbour together, but affection alone can form an union; this is the cement of kindred spirits; and without it, the man withdraws so soon as possible to his solitude, like the brute, to devour his morsel alone. There may be temporary adhesion, where there is no permanent combination-locality, without admixture: pressure may unite two bodies for a season, when there is no actual junction. There may be communion without congeniality-a confederacy of interests or convenience, without concord of mind and temper. These alliances are fortuitous, and cannot be permanent: while they last, they want the true social bondsoul; and when they are dissolved, there is no

parting pang-it is rather a subject of gratulation. General intercourse partakes too much of this adventitious and selfish character, to deserve the nobler appellation of social-it is contact, but not communion.

We have spoken of habits, as well as of affections, as essential to society. A social state requires something attractive and winning in the manners; some pliability of temper; some selfdenial; some sacrifices. Some of these things will appear under the division of personal duties; when describing particular dispositions of mind, we shall easily see, what tempers and manners best suit the social state; and others will be specified on the present occasion, as we follow the subject: general hints respecting habits, are all that can now be furnished; with a few obligations, as universal as they are obvious, which must be enumerated.

Habits of peace should be cultivated. A temper apt to take fire, is like Samson's foxes carrying their burning brands into the corn-fields—their course is fury, and its consequences desolation. An intermeddling temper, fond of prying into privacy, of tale bearing, of scattering abroad the uncertain information so imperfectly gleaned, and so surreptitiously obtained, produces incalculable mischief; it resembles Solomon's madman, scattering "firebrands, arrows, and death; and saying, Am I not in sport?" The scourge of this disposi