shadow of imperfection. Our reason indeed afsures us, that his attributes are infinite; but the poornefs of our conceptions is such, that it cannot forbear fetting bounds to every thing it contemplates, till our reafon comes again to our fuccour, and throws down all those little prejudices, which rife in us unawares, and are natural to the mind of man.

We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy thought, of our being overlooked by our Maker, in the multiplicity of his works, and the infinity of those objects among which he seems to be incessantly employed, if we confider, in the first place, that he is omniprefent; and in the fecond, that he is omnifcient.

If we confider him in his omnipresence, his being pofses through, actuates, and fupports, the whole frame of nature. His creation, and every part of it, is full of him. There is nothing he has made, that is either fo diftant, fo little, or fo inconfiderable, which he does not efsentially inhabit. His substance is within the fubftance of every being, whether material or immaterial, and as intimately present to it, as that being is to itself. It would be an imperfection in him, were he able to move out of one place into another; or to withdraw himself from any thing he has created, or from any part of that space which he diffused and spread abroad to infinity. In short, to speak of him in the language of the old philosophers, he is a being whose centre is every where, and his circumference no where.

In the fecond place, he is omniscient as well as omnipresent. His omniscience indeed necessarily and naturally flows from his omniprefence. He cannot but be confcious of every motion that arises in the whole material world, which he thus essentially pervades; and of every thought that is stirring in the intellectual world, to every part of which he is thus intimately united. Were the foul separate from the body, and with one glance of thought should start beyond the bounds of the creation; should it, for millions of years, continue its progress through infinite space, with the same activity, it would still find itself within the embrace of its Creator, and encompassed by the immenfity of the Godhead.

In this confideration of the Almighty's omniprefence and omniscience, every uncomfortable thought vanishes. He cannot but regard every thing that has being, especially such of his creatures who fear they are not regarded by him. He is privy to all their thoughts, and to that anxiety of heart in particular, which is apt to trouble them on this occafion: for, as it is impossible he should overlook any of his creatures, fo we may be confident that he regards, with an eye of mercy, those who endeavour to recommend themselves to his notice; and, in unfeigned humility of heart, think themselves unworthy that he should be mindful of them.

ADDISON.

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CHAPTER IV.

ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES.

SECTION I.

Happiness is founded in rectitude of Conduct.

ALL men purfue good, and would be happy, if they knew how: not happy for minutes, and miferable for hours; but happy, if possible, through every part of their existence. Either, therefore, there is a good of this steady, durable kind, or there is not. If not, then all good must be tranfient and uncertain; and if so, an object of the lowest value, which can little deferve our attention or inquiry. But if there be a better good, fuch a good as we are seeking; like every other thing, it must be derived from fome cause; and that caufe must either be external, internal, or mixed; in as much as, except these three, there is no other possible. Now a steady, durable good, cannot be derived from an external cause; fince all derived from externals muft fluctuate as they fluctuate. By the fame rule, it cannot be derived from a mixture of the two; because the part which is external, will proportionably destroy its essence. What then remains but the cause internal? the very cause which we have fuppofed, when we place the fovereign good in mind,-in rectitude of conduct.

HARRIS. SECTION II.

Virtue Man's highest Interest.

I FIND myself existing upon a little spot, surrounded every way by an immenfe unknown expanfion.Where am I? What fort of place do I inhabit? Is it exactly accommodated in every instance to my convenience? Is there no excess of cold, none of heat, to offend me? Am I never annoyed by animals, either of my own, or a different kind? Is every thing subservient to me, as though I had ordered all myself? No-nothing like it-the farthest from it possible. The world appears not, then, originally made for the private convenience of me alone? - It does not. But is it not possible fo to accommodate it, by my own particular industry? If to accommodate man and beast, heaven and earth, if this be beyond me, it is not pofsible. What consequence then follows; or can there be any other than this-If I feek an interest of of my own detached from that of others, I seek an interest which is chimerical, and which can never. have exiftence.

How then must I determine? Have I no interest at. all? If I have not, I am stationed here to no purpose. But why no interest? Can I be contented with none but one feparate and detached? Is a focial interest, joined with others, fuch an absurdity as not to be admitted? The bee, the beaver, and the tribes of herding animals, are fufficient to convince me, that the thing is fomewhere at least possible. How, then, am. I assured that it is not equally true of man? Admit it; and what follows? If so, then honour and justice

are my interest; then the whole train of moral virtues - are my interest; without fome portion of which, not even thieves can maintain fociety.

But, farther ftill-I stop not here-I pursue this focial intereft as far as I can trace my feveral relations. I pass from my own stock, my own neighbourhood, my own nation, to the whole race of mankind, as difperfed throughout the earth. Am I not related to them all, by the mutual aids of commerce, by the general intercourse of arts and letters, by that common nature of which we all participate?

Again--I must have food and cloathing. Without a proper genial warmth, I inftantly perish. Am I not related, in this view, to the very earth itself? to the distant fun, from whose beams I derive vigour? to that ftupendous course and order of the infinite host of heaven, by which the times and feafons ever uniformly pafs on? Were this order once confounded, I could not probably furvive a moment; fo abfolutely do I depend on this common general welfare. What, then, have I to do, but to enlarge virtue into piety! Not only honour and justice, and what I owe to man, is my intereft; but gratitude also, acquiefcence, refignation, adoration, and all I owe to this great polity, and its great Governour our common Parent.

SECTION III.

The Injustice of an uncharitable Spirit.

A SUSPICIOUS, uncharitable fpirit is not only inconfiftent with all focial virtue and happiness, but it is