duct that could be followed, could be more unwise, or more cruel.

It were unwise, surely, to unsettle all the foundations of duty in the minds of the people,-to remove those mighty obligations which alone can permanently reconcile them to a condition of inferiority and toil,-and to lead them to imagine that the inequalities they witness were not the design of that Providence which they revere, but the effects only of human power and human injustice.

It were cruel far more, to insinuate among them, either by language or conduct, a single doubt with respect to the foundations of their religion,-to wrest from them, even by carelessness or levity, any of those consolations on which the head of poverty and age may rest,-or to dim, to their believing eye, those hopes and expectations which irradiate that humble grave where "the weary" long "to be at rest."

Alas! my brethren, it were cruel also to yourselves. Life, with all its power, and all its riches, must have an end; and there is an hour coming, when all will be forgot but the use that has been made of them. In that hour, you would dread to think, that your example had been the cause even of present sorrow to your people,—that your severity had embittered the happiness of those whom you might have blessed, or your vices contaminated the purity of their ancient manners. Alas! is it not still more awful to think, that your example

may penetrate into eternity; that your levity may have raised doubts which ended in unbelief; that your carelessness may have taught the simple to throw off the yoke of religion ;—and that, in the final ruin of those souls which the providence of God had consigned to your care, you yourselves may have been the fatal instruments.

Such then are the virtues which may be exerted, and the means of usefulness which may be employed by those whom Providence has placed in this favoured condition of society. Go, then, my brethren,―return from the fatigues of business, and the tumult of unreal pleasure, to the calm joy and the dignified occupations of rural life! Return, but like the sun "when he goeth forth in his "might," to give beauty to the scenes of nature, and happiness to the dwellings of men. It is your noblest character to be considered as the fathers of your people. Go then, and to the young impart the means of instruction,-and spread the light of knowledge amid the obscurities of life, and maintain the proud distinction which learning has given to your country. Go, and awaken in manhood the spirit of industry, and give to the hand of labour the hope of independence, and exert that noblest charity which is not satisfied with relieving poverty, but which prevents it. Go, still more, and be the "leaders of your people in the "way of righteousness ;" and while you employ the benevolence of men in guiding them in peace

through things temporal, employ the greater benevolence of Christians, in guiding them in hope to things eternal.

Nor ask for a reward of your labours. To be thus employed is itself happiness. It is to be fellow-workers with the Father of Nature, in the prosperity of his people. It is to give men to society, citizens to your country,—and children to your God.

SERMON XI.

ON THE THANKSGIVING FOR THE VICTORY AT TRA

FALGAR.

ST. MATTHEW xvii. 4.

"Then answered Peter, and said unto Jesus, Lord! it is good for us to be here."

WHEN Our Saviour carried his disciples up into the mount, and was transfigured before them, we read, in this chapter, that St. Peter, overpowered with the vision of glory which he was permitted to see, exclaimed, in holy rapture, "Lord, it is "good for us to be here!" It is good for us to be raised above the lower world, and to witness this manifestation of the majesty of Him by whom thou art sent; that we may return again into the world with deeper conviction of thy divinity, and that thou art the beloved Son, whose voice it is our duty to hear!

With such feelings of devout gratitude, I trust, we are now assembled in the House of God, and have joined in those accents of praise which on this day rise from every corner of our land. We

are assembled to commemorate one of those signal deliverances which reach to the foundation and stability of our empire. We have seen the protracted anxiety of years, dispersed, as it were, by the breath of Heaven; and, accustomed as we are to the possession of national glory, we have seen it awaken, as if with accumulated lustre, and shed over the year which is about to close, a splendour unknown to any former age.

In such moments there is a command, superiour even to that of the sovereign or the legislature, which summons us into the temple of God, and leads us to join that multitude who, in receiving common blessings, are ardent to express their common praise. It is an instinct descriptive of our nature, and productive of sentiments that become us; it unites the concerns of earth with the laws of Heaven; it raises us from ordinary thought, to the conceptions of him in whose hand all "the "nations of the earth are as the dust in the bal"ance;"and, amid the miseries of nations, it leads us to the anticipation of that final state, when there shall be "war and tears no more."

If, indeed, it were only to swell the note of publick exultation, that assemblies of this kind were summoned.-if it were to cherish national vanity by the sanguinary record of achievement, or to inflame national malignity by an inhuman triumph over the chains of the captive, or the ashes of the fallen,-I know not that human impiety