Attentive only to

will infallibly be found to be his own centre. himself, absorbed in the contemplation of his own perfections, instead of feeling tenderness for his fellow-creatures as members of the same family, as beings with whom he is appointed to act, to suffer, and to sympathize, he considers life as a stage on which he is performing a part, and mankind in no other light than specWhether he smiles or frowns, whether his path is adorned with the rays of beneficence, or his steps are dyed in blood, an attention to self is the spring of every movement, and the motive to which every action is to be referred.

tators.

Nor is a mind inflated with vanity (egotism) more disqualified for right action than for just speculation, or better disposed to the pursuit of truth than to the practice of virtue. To such a mind, the simplicity of truth is disgusting. Careless of the improvement of mankind, and intent only upon astonishing with the appearance of novelty, the glare of paradox will be preferred to the light of truth; opinions will be embraced, not because they are just, but because they are new; the more flagitious, the more subversive of morals, the more alarming to the wise and good, the more welcome to men who estimate their literary powers by the mischief they produce, and who consider the anxiety and terror they impress, as the best measure of their renown. Truth is simple and uniform, while error may be infinitely varied; and, as it is one thing to start paradoxes, and another to make discoveries, we need the less wonder at the prodigious increase of modern philosophers.

We have been so much accustomed to consider extravagant self-estimation merely as a ridiculous quality, that many will be surprised to find it treated as a vice pregnant with serious mischief to society. But, to form a judgment of its influence on the manners and happiness of a nation, it is necessary only to look at its effects in a family; for bodies of men are only collections of individuals, and the greatest nation is nothing more than an aggregate of a great number of families. Conceive of a domestic circle, in which each member is elated with a most extravagant opinion of himself, and a proportionable contempt of every other member; is full of little contrivances to catch applause, and, whenever he is not praised, is sullen and disappointed. What a

picture of disunion, disgust, and animosity would such a family present. How utterly would domestic affection be extinguished, and all the purposes of domestic society be defeated. The general prevalence of such dispositions must be accompanied by an equal proportion of general misery.

The same restless and eager vanity which disturbs a family, when it is permitted to mingle with political affairs, distracts a kingdom or commonwealth; infusing into those intrusted with the enactment of laws, a spirit of rash innovation and daring empiricism, a disdain of the established usages of mankind, a foolish desire to dazzle the world with new and untried systems of policy, in which the precedents of antiquity and the experience of ages are only consulted to be trodden under foot; and into the executive department of government, a fierce contention for preeminence, an incessant struggle to supplant and destroy, with a propensity to calumny and suspicion, proscription and massacre. The nature and progress of vanity, and its kindred passions, were more strikingly displayed in the French revolution than they have ever been elsewhere; a revolution, which, viewed in its true light, ought to be contemplated as a grand experiment on human nature.

If such be the mischiefs, both in public and private life, resulting from an extravagant self-estimation, it remains next to be considered whether Providence has supplied any medicine to correct it; for, as the reflection on excellence, whether real or imaginary, is always attended with pleasure to the possessor, vanity is a moral disease, deeply seated in human nature.

Humility, cherished under an habitual sense of the Divine presence and of our sinfulness in the sight of God, evinced by hearty repentance, is the appointed antidote to this disease of our nature. Humility is, in truth, the most precious fruit of religion. In the teaching of our Saviour, there is no maxim so frequent as the following; "Whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." Religion, and that alone, teaches absolute humility; by which is meant, a sense of our absolute nothingness in the view of infinite greatness and excellence. That sense of inferiority, which results from the compari

son of men with each other, is often an unwelcome sentiment forced upon the mind, which may rather embitter the temper than soften it; that, which devotion impresses, is soothing and delightful. The devout man loves to humble himself at the footstool of his Creator, because it is there that he attains the most lively perceptions of the Divine excellence, and the most tranquil confidence in the Divine favor. In so august a presence, he sees all distinctions lost, and all beings reduced to the same level. He looks at his superiors without envy, and at his inferiors without contempt; and, when from this elevation he descends to mix in society, the conviction of superiority, which must in many instances be felt, is a calm inference of the understanding, and no longer a restless, importunate, and absorbing passion.

Again, ferocity and inhumanity of character were enumerated as another effect of skeptical impiety. As it has already been shown, that vanity and its accompanying kindred passions harden the heart, and that religion (humility) is the only effectual antidote, the connexion between irreligion and inhumanity is, in this view, obvious. But there is another light, in which this part of the subject may be viewed, in my judgment, much more important, though seldom adverted to. The belief, that man is a moral and accountable being, destined to survive the stroke of death, and to live in a future world in a never-ending state of happiness or misery, makes him a creature of incomparably more consequence, than the opposite belief. When we consider him as placed here by an Almighty Ruler in a state of probation, and that the present life is his period of trial, the first link in a vast and interminable chain which stretches into eternity, he assumes a character of dignity in our eyes. Every thing which relates to him becomes interesting; and to trifle with his happiness is felt to be the most unpardonable levity. If such be the destination of man, it is manifest, that in the qualities which fit him for it, his principal dignity consists; - his moral greatness is his true greatness. Let the skeptical principles be admitted, which represent him, on the contrary, as the offspring of chance, connected with no superior power, and sinking into annihilation at death, and he is a contemptible creature, whose existence and happiness are alike

insignificant. The characteristic difference is lost between him and the brute creation, from which he is no longer distinguished, except by the vividness and multiplicity of his perceptions.

If we reflect on that part of our nature which disposes us to humanity, we shall find, that, where we have no particular attachment, our sympathy with the sufferings, and concern for the destruction, of sensitive beings, are in proportion to their supposed importance in the general scale; or, in other terms, to their capacity for intelligence and enjoyment. We feel, for example, vastly more at witnessing the destruction of a man, than of an inferior animal, because we consider it as involving the extinction of a vastly greater sum of intelligence and happiness. For the same reason, he who would shudder at the slaughter of a large animal, will see, without a pang, a thousand insects perish. Our sympathy with the calamities of our fellow-creatures is adjusted by the same measure. We feel more powerfully affected with the distresses of fallen greatness than with equal or greater distresses suffered by persons of inferior rank; because, having been accustomed to associate with an elevated station the idea of superior happiness, the loss appears to us the greater, and the wreck the more extensive. But the disproportion in importance between man and the meanest insect is not so great, as that which subsists between man considered as mortal, and as immortal; that is, between man as he is represented by the system of skepticism, and by that of Divine revelation; for the enjoyment of the meanest insect bears some proportion, though a very small one, to the present happiness of man; but the happiness of time bears none at all to that of eternity. The skeptical system, therefore, sinks the importance of human existence to an inconceivable degree.

From these principles results the following important practical inference, that to extinguish human life by the hand of violence must be quite a different thing in the eyes of a skeptic, from what it is in those of a Christian. With the skeptic, it is nothing more than diminishing by one the many millions of fugitive and contemptible creatures, which exist on the earth. The Christian sees, in the same event, an accountable being cut off from a state of probation, and hurried, perhaps unprepared, into the presence of his Judge, to hear that final, that irrevocable sentence, which

is to fix him for ever in an unalterable condition of felicity or woe. The former perceives in death nothing but its physical circumstances; the latter is impressed with the magnitude of its moral consequences. It is the moral relation which man is believed to bear to a superior power, the awful idea of accountability, the influence which his present dispositions and actions are conceived to have upon his eternal destiny, more than any superiority of intellectual powers, abstracted from these considerations, which invest him with such mysterious grandeur, and constitute the firmest guard on the sanctuary of human life.

As the advantage of the armed over the unarmed, is not seen until the moment of attack, so in that tranquil state of society in which law and order maintain their ascendency, it is not perceived, perhaps not even suspected, to what an alarming degree the principles of modern infidelity leave us naked and defenceless. But, let the state be convulsed, let the mounds of regular authority be once overflowed, and the still, small voice of law drowned in the tempest of popular fury, (events which the experience of the present century shows to be possible,) it will then be seen that atheism is a school of ferocity and barbarism; and that, having taught its disciples to consider mankind as little better than a nest of insects, they will be prepared, in the fierce conflicts of party, to trample upon them without pity, and extinguish them without remorse.

Having shown that the principles of infidelity facilitate the commission of crimes, by removing the restraints of fear; and that they foster the arrogance of the individual, while they inculcate the most despicable opinion of the species; the inevitable result is, that a haughty self-confidence, a contempt of mankind, together with a daring defiance of religious restraints, are the natural ingredients of the atheistical character. Nor is it less evident that these are, of all others, the dispositions which most forcibly stimulate to violence and cruelty. We may, therefore, settle it in our minds, as a maxim never to be effaced or forgotten; that atheism is an inhuman, sanguinary, ferocious system, equally hostile to every useful restraint, and to every virtuous affection; that leaving nothing above us to excite awe, nor around us to awaken tenderness, it wages war with heaven and with