tion. It is the right mind, the right apprehension of things only, that is wanting, to make the peasant's cottage as interesting, as intrinsically glorious, as the prince's pa lace. I wish that this view of life might be taken by us, not only because it is the right view, but because it would tend effectually to promote human happiness, and especially contentment. Most men look upon their employ ments and abodes as common-place and almost as mean. The familiar objects around them, appear to them almost as vulgar. They feel as if there could be no dignity nor charm in acting and living as they are compelled to do. The plastered wall, and the plain deal boards, the humble table, spread with earthen, or wooden dishes-how poor does it all seem to them! Oh! could they live in palaces of marble, clothed with silken tapestries, and filled with gorgeous furniture, and canopies of state-it were some. thing. But now, to the spiritual vision, what is it all? The great problem of humanity is wrought out in the humblest abodes; no more than this is done in the highest. A human heart throbs beneath the beggars gabardine; it is no more than this, that stirs with its beating, the prince's mantle. What is it, I say, that makes life to be life indeed-makes all its grandeur and power? The beauty of love, the charm of friendship, the sacredness of sorrow, the heroism of patience, the soul-exalting prayer, the noble self-sacrifice-these are the priceless treasures and glories of humanity; and are these things of condition? On the contrary, are not all places, all scenes, alike clothed with the grandeur and charm of virtues like these? And compared with these, what are the gildings, the gauds and shows of wealth and splendor! Nay, compared with every man's abode-his sky-dome and earth-dwel. Who Thou livest in a ling-what can any man's abode be? world of beauty and grandeur. liveth in a fairer a more magnificent world than thou? It is a dwelling which God hath made for thee; does that consideration deprive it of all its goodliness? And suppose thou wast rich, and wast surrounded with all the gaiety and grandeur of wealth. How might they hide from thee, alas! all the spiritual meanings of thy condition! How might the stately wall and the rich ceiling hide heaven from thy sight! Let thine eye be opened to the vision of life, and what state then, what mere visible grandeur, can be com. pared to them? It is all but a child's bauble, to the divine uses of things, the glorious associations, the beatific visions that are opened to thee! God hath thus "magnified," and to use the strong and figurative language of our text, "set his heart" upon the humblest fortunes of humanity. There are those who, with a kind of noble but mistaken aspiration, are asking for a life which shall in its form and outward course, be more spiritual and divine than that which they are obliged to live. They think that if they could devote themselves entirely to what are called labors of philanthropy, to visiting the poor and sick, that would be well and worthy-and so it would be. They think that if it could be inscribed on their tomb-stone, that they had visited a million of couches of disease, and carried balm and soothing to them, that would be a glorious record-and so it would be. But let me tell you, that the million occasions will come,-ay, and in the ordinary paths of life, in your homes and by your fire-sides -wherein you may act as nobly, as if all your life long, you visited beds of sickness and pain. Yes, I say, the : million occasions will come, varying every hour, in which you may restrain your passions, subdue your hearts to gentleness and patience, resign your own interest for another's advantage, speak words of kindness and wisdom, raise the fallen and cheer the fainting and sick in spirit, and soften and assuage the weariness and bitterness of the mortal lot. These cannot indeed be written on your tombs, for they are not one series of specific actions, like those of what is technically denominated philanthropy. But in them I say, you may discharge offices, not less gracious to others, nor less glorious for yourselves than the self-denials of the far-famed sisters of charity, than the labors of Howard or Oberlín, or than the sufferings of the martyred host of God's elect. They shall not be written on your tombs; but they are written deep in the hearts of men-of friends, of children, of kindred all around you they are written in the secret book of the great account! How divine a life would this be! For want of this spiritual insight, the earth is desolate, and the heavens are but a sparkling vault or celestial mechanism. Nothing but this spirit of God in us, can "create that new heavens and new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.' For want of this, life is to many, dull and barren, or trifling, uninteresting, unsatisfactory-without sentiment, without poetry and philosophy alike, without interpretation or meaning or lofty motive. Whirled about by incessant change, making an oracle of circumstance and an end of vanity, such persons know not why they live. For want of this spiritual insight, man degrades himself to the worship of condition, and loses the sense of what he is. He passes by a grand house, or a blazoned equipage, and bows his whole lofty being before them-forgetting that he himself, is greater than a house-greater than an equipage-greater than the world. Oh! to think, that this walking majesty of earth should so forget itself, that this spiritual power in man, should be frittered away, and dissipated upon trifles and vanities-how lamentable is it! There is no Gospel for such a being; for the Gospel lays its foundations in the spiritual nature. There is nothing for man, but what lies in his spirit-in spiritual insight-in spiritual interpretation. Without this, not only is heaven nothing, but the world is nothing. The great Apostle has resolved it all in few words. "There is no condemna. tion to them who are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the spirit—but to all others there is condemnation,-sorrow, pain, vanity, death. For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace." DISCOURSE III. LIFE CONSIDERED AS AN ARGUMENT FOR FAITH MATTHEW IV. 4. BUT HE ANSWERED AND SAID, IT IS WRITTEN THAT MAN SHALL NOT LIVE BY BREAD ALONE, BUT BY EVERY WORD THAT PROCEEDETH OUT OF THE MOUTH OF GOD. THE necessity to man of something above all the resources of physical life, is the subject to which, in this discourse, I shall invite your attention. In two previous discourses on human life which I have addressed to you, I have endeavored to show, in the first place and in general, that this life possesses a deep moral significance, nothwithstanding all that is said of it, as a series of toils, trifles and varieties, and in the next place, and in pursuance of the same thought, that every thing in life is positively moral-not merely that it is morally significant, but that it has a positive moral efficiency for good or for evil. And now I say in the third place, that the argument for the moral purpose, is clenched by the necessity of that purpose, to the well-being of life itself. "Man," |