say, Would to God it were morning, for the fear of his heart wherewith he shall fear, and for the sight which his eyes shall see. His life shall be grievous unto him-Adversity! how blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver, in comparison with those of guilt!-But if such be the power of conscience, whence, it may be asked, comes it to pass, that its influence is not more general, either in restraining men from the commission of sin, or in leading them to a timely repentance? This brings me to observe,

III. That, during a course of prosperity, the operations of conscience are often suspended: and that adversity is the season which restores them to their proper force. At the time when crimes are committed, the mind is too much heated by passion, and engrossed by the object of its pursuit, to be capable of proper reflection. After this tumult of spirits has subsided, if a train of new passions be at hand to employ its activity, or a succession of pleasurable objects occur to engage its attention, it may for a while remain, though not entirely free from inward misgivings, yet unconscious of the degree of its guilt. Dissipated among the amusements of life, the sinner escapes, in some measure, from his own view. If he reflects upon himself at all, the continuance of prosperity seems to him a strong justification of his conduct. For it will be found that, in the hearts of all men, there is a natural propensity to judge of the favor of the Supreme Being, from the course of external events. When they are borne with a smooth gale along the stream of life, and behold every thing proceeding according to their wish, hardly can they be brought to

believe, that Providence is their enemy. Basking in the sunshine of prosperity, they suppose themselves to enjoy the smile of indulgent Heaven; and fondly conclude, that they are on terms of friendship with all above, and with all below. Easy they find it, then, to spread over the grossest crimes a covering, thin, indeed, and slight, yet sufficient to conceal them from a superficial view.

Of this we have a very remarkable instance, in those brethren of Joseph whose history we now consider. Not only from the silence of the inspired writer, we have ground to believe that their remorse was stifled, while their prosperity remained: but we are able to trace some of their pretences, by which, during that period, they quieted their minds. For when they were contriving the destruction of Joseph, we find Judah saying to his brethren, What profit is it, if we slay our brother, and conceal his blood? Let us sell him to the Ishmaelites; and let not our hand be upon him; for he is our brother, and our flesh and his brethren were content. Here you behold them justifying their crime, by a sort of pretended humanity: and making a light of selling their brother for a slave, because they did not take away his life. How strangely are the opinions of men altered, by a change in their condition! How different is this sentiment of the patriarchs, from that which they afterwards entertained of the same action, when, as you see in the text, the remembrance of it wrung their hearts with anguish.

But men, in truth, differ as much from themselves, in prosperity and in adversity, as if they were different

creatures. In prosperity every thing tends to flatter and deceive. In adversity, the illusions of life vanish. Its avocations, and its pleasures, no longer afford the sinner that shelter he was wont to find from conscience. Formerly he made a part of the crowd. He now feels himself a solitary individual, left alone with God, and with his own mind. His spirits are not supported, as before, by fallacious views of the favor of Heaven. The candle of the Lord shines not on his head; his pride is humbled ; and his affections are softened for receiving every serious impression. In this situation, a man's iniquity is sure to find him out. Whatever has been notoriously criminal in his former conduct, rises as a spectre, and places itself before him. The increased sensibility of his mind renders him alive to feelings which lately were faint and wounds which had been ill healed bleed afresh. When men take the timbrel and the harp, and rejoice at the sound of the organ, they say, What is the Almighty that we should serve him? But when they are holden in the cords of affliction, then he sheweth them their work, and their transgression, that they have exceeded. He openeth also their ears to discipline; and commandeth that they return from iniquity.

Hence, we may perceive the great usefulness and propriety of that interchange of conditions, which takes place in human life. By prosperity, God gives scope to our passions, and makes trial of our dispositions. By adversity, he revives the serious principle within. Neither the one, nor the other, could be borne entire and unmixed. Man, always prosperous, would be giddy and insolent;

always afflicted, would be sullen and despondent. Hopes and fears, joy and sorrow, are, therefore, so blended in his life, as both to give room for worldly pursuits, and to recall, from time to time, the admonitions of conscience. Of the proportion in which they should be mixed for this purpose, we are very incompetent judges. From our ignorance of the degree of discipline which the spiritual state of others requires, we often censure Providence unjustly, for its severity towards them: and, from the vanity and rashness of our wishes, we complain, without reason, of its rigour to ourselves. While we consult nothing but our ease, God attends to our spiritual improvement. When we seek what is pleasing, he sends what is useful. When, by drinking too deep of worldly prosperity, we draw in a secret poison, he mercifully infuses a medicine, at the time that he troubles and embitters the waters. It remains now to observe,

IV. That when conscience is thoroughly awakened, it determines the sinner to consider every calamity which he suffers, as a positive infliction of punishment by Heaven. As it had before alarmed him with threatenings of Divine displeasure, it tells him when he falls under distress, that the threatened day of account is come. Afflictions, on some occasions, rise directly out of our sins. Thus diseases are brought on by intemperance; poverty springs from idleness; and disgrace from presumption. In such cases, the punishment is so closely connected with the crime, that it is impossible to avoid discerning the relation which the one bears to the other. But the appointment of

Providence, which we now consider, reaches farther than this. God has framed us so, that distresses, which have no perceivable connexion with our former crimes, are nevertheless interpreted by conscience, to be inflicted on their account. They force themselves upon our apprehension under this view. They are made to carry, not only that degree of pain which properly belongs to themselves, but that additional torment also, which arises from the belief of their being the vengeance of the Almighty.

Let a man fall unexpectedly into some deep calamity. Let that calamity be brought upon him, either by means which the world call fortuitous; or by a train of incidents, in which his own misconduct or guilt has apparently had no part; yet one of the first questions, which, in such a situation, he puts to himself, is, What have I done to deserve this? His reflection is, almost instinctively, drawn back upon his former life; and if, in the course of that retrospect, any flagrant guilty deed occur to smite his conscience, on this he cannot avoid resting with anxiety and terror, and connecting it in his imagination with what he now suffers. He sees, or thinks that he sees, a Divine arm lifted up; and what, in other circumstances, he would have called a reverse of fortune, he now views as a judgment of Heaven.

When the brethren of Joseph, confined in the Egyptian prison, were bewailing the distress into which they had fallen, there was no circumstance which pointed out any relation between their present misfortune, and their former cruelty to their brother. A long course of years had