Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

thy lot, had not their care of thee begun before thou couldest remember, or know any thing.

Now fo proud, felf willed, inexorable, thou couldest then only afk by wailing, and move them with thy tears. And they were moved. Their heart was touched with thy distress: they relieved and watched thy wants, before thou knewest thine own neceffities or their kindness. They clothed thee; thou knewest not that thou waft naked: thou afkedit not for bread; but they fed thee. And ever fince, in fhort, for the particulars are too many to be recounted, and too many furely to be all utterly forgotten, it has been the very principal endeavour, employment, and ftudy of their lives to do fervice to thee.

And remember, for this too is of moment, it is all out of pure unfeigned affection. Other friends moftly expect their

K3

their civilities to be repaid, and their kind offices returned with intereft. But parents have no thoughts like these. They feek not thine, but thee. Their regard is real, and hearty, and undefigning. They have no reflex views upon themselves, no oblique glances towards their own intereft. If by all their endeavours they can obtain their child's welfare, they arrive at the full accomplishment of their wishes. They have no higher object of their ambition. Be thou but happy, and they are fo.

And now tell me: is not fomething to

be done, I do not now say for thyself, but for them? If it be too much to defire of thee to be good, and wife, and virtuous, and happy for thy own fake; yet be happy for their's. Think that a fober, upright, and let me add, religious life, besides the bleffings it will bring upon thy own head, will be a fountain of unfailing comfort to thy declining parents, and make the heart of the aged fing for joy.

What

What shall we say? Which of thefe is happier? the Son, that maketh a glad Father? or the Father, bleffed with fuch a Son?

Fortunate young man who haft an heart open fo early to virtuous delights; and canft find thy own happiness, in returning thy father's bleffing upon his own head.

And happy father! whofe years have been prolonged, not as it often happens, to fee his comforts fall from him one after another, and to become at once old and deftitute; but to taste a new pleasure, not to be found among the pleafures of youth, referved for his age; to reap the harvest of all his cares and labour in the duty, affection, and felicity of his dear child. His very look befpeaks the inward fatisfaction of his heart. age fit light on him.

The infirmities of

He feels not the

troubles of life: he fmiles at the approach

of death. Sees himself still living and honoured in the memory and the person of his fon, his other, dearer felf; and paffes down to the receptacle of all the living in the fulness of content and joy.

How unlike to this, is the condition of him, who has the affliction to be the father of a wicked offspring! Poor unhappy man! No forrow is like unto thy forrow. Diseases and death are bleffings, if compared with the anguish of thy heart, when thou feeft thy dearest children run heedlessly headlong in the ways of fin, forgetful of their parent's counfel, and their own happiness. Unfortunate old man! How often does he wish, he had never been born, or had been cut off before he was a father! No reflection is able to afford him confolation. grows old betimes: and the afflictions of age are doubled on his head. In vain are inftruments of pleasure brought forth. His foul refufes comfort. Every

He

bleffing

bleffing of life is loft upon Him. No fuccefs is able to give him joy. His triumphs are like that of David: While his friends, captains, foldiers, were rending the air with the fhouts of victory; he, poor conqueror! went up, as it is 2 Sam. written, to the chamber over the gate, and xviii. 33. wept: And as he went, thus he faid; O my fon Abfalom! my fon, my fon Abfalom! Would God I had died for thee! O Abfalom, my son, my fon!

SER

« AnteriorContinua »