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his opinions on church government, and conformed to the Established Church, and, on taking orders, was fortunate enough to find men capable of appreciating his great ability. He became preacher at the Rolls Chapel, where he delivered those famous sermons, which form the best summary in the language of the fundamental principles of moral science. Queen Caroline was a warm admirer of philosophical discussion, and Butler accordingly became a favourite with her Majesty, who rewarded his merit by raising him to the See of Bristol, from which he was afterwards translated to that of Durham. He did not long survive his new elevation, and died at Bath in 1752. His works are very few, consisting only of twenty-one sermons, and his Analogy of Religion," but they are likely long to perpetuate his fame. His sermons are characterized by depth of thought and accuracy of judgment, and his "Analogy" has never been surpassed as an able refutation of the common objections urged against religion, whether natural or revealed. Of the graces of style he is quite careless, his only object being to express his meaning in convenient terms, and the close condensation of thought which pervades all his writings sometimes renders his meaning obscure, and requires at all times, on the part of the reader, unremitting attention. His moral system has in modern times found many able exponents,-none more so than Sir James Mackintosh.

1. OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS, AND PARTICULARLY OF THE LATTER. (“ANALOGY," PART I., CHAPTER II.)

That which makes the question concerning a future life to be of so great importance to us, is our capacity of happiness and misery. And that which makes the consideration of it to be of so great importance to us, is the supposition of our happiness and misery hereafter, depending upon our actions here. Without this, indeed, curiosity could not but sometimes bring a subject, in which we may be so highly interested, to our thoughts; especially upon the mortality of others, or the near prospect of our own. But reasonable men would not take any farther thought about hereafter, than what should happen thus occasionally to rise in their minds, if it were certain that our future interest in no way depended upon our present behaviour; whereas, on the contrary, if there be ground, either from analogy or anything else, to think it does, then there is reason also for the most active thought and solicitude to secure that interest, to behave so as that we may escape that misery, and obtain that happiness in another life, which we not only suppose ourselves capable of, but which we apprehend also is put in our own power. And whether there be ground for this apprehension certainly would deserve to be most seriously considered, were there no other proof of a future life and interest than that presumptive one which the foregoing observations' amount to.

i.e., those in the previous chapters of the "Analogy."

Now, in the present state, all which we enjoy, and a great part of what we suffer, is put in our own power. For pleasure and pain are the consequences of our actions, and we are endued by the Author of our nature with capacities of foreseeing these consequences. We find by experience, He does not so much as preserve our lives, exclusively of our own care and attention to provide ourselves with, and to make use of that sustenance, by which He has appointed our lives shall be preserved; and without which He has appointed they shall not be preserved at all. And in general we foresee, that the external things which are the objects of our various passions can neither be obtained or enjoyed, without exerting ourselves in such and such manners; but by thus exerting ourselves, we obtain and enjoy those objects in which our natural good consists, or by these means God gives us the possession and enjoyment of them. I know not that we have any one kind or degree of enjoyment, but by the means of our own actions. And by prudence and care, we may for the most part pass our days in tolerable ease and quiet; or, on the contrary, we may, by rashness, ungoverned passion, wilfulness, or even by negligence, make ourselves as miserable as ever we please. And many do please to make themselves extremely miserable, that is, to do what they know beforehand will render them so. They follow those ways, the fruit of which they know by instruction, example, experience, will be disgrace, and poverty, and sickness, and untimely death. This every one observes to be the general course of things; though, it is to be allowed, we cannot find by experience that all our sufferings are owing to our own follies. It is certain matter of universal experience, and the general method of divine administration is, forewarning us, or giving us capacities to foresee, with more or less clearness, that if we act so and so, we shall have such enjoyments; if so and so, such sufferings; and giving us those enjoyments, and making us feel those sufferings, in consequence of our actions.

But it may be objected, “all this is to be ascribed to the general course of nature." True; this is the very thing which I am observing. It is to be ascribed to the general course of nature; that is, not surely to the words or ideas "course of nature," but to Him who appointed it and put things into it, or to a course of operation, from its uniformity or constancy called natural, and which necessarily implies an operating agent. For when men find themselves necessitated to confess an author of nature, or that God is the natural Governor of the world, they must not deny this again, because His government is uniform. They must not deny that He does things at all because He does them constantly; because the effects of His acting are permanent whether His acting be so or not, though there is no reason to think it is not. In short, every man, in everything he does, naturally acts upon the forethought and apprehension of avoiding evil or obtaining good; and if the natural course of things be the appointment of God, and our natural faculties of knowledge and experience are given us by Him, then the good and

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bad consequences which follow our actions are His appointment, and our foresight of those consequences is a warning given us by Him how we are to act.

Now, from this general observation, obvious to every one, that God has given us to understand He has appointed satisfaction and delight to be the consequence of our acting in one manner, and pain and uneasiness of our acting in another, and of our not acting at all; and that we find the consequences, which we were beforehand informed of, uniformly to follow, we may learn that we are at present actually under His government, in the strictest and most proper sense,-in such a sense, as that He rewards and punishes us for our actions. An Author of nature being supposed, it is not so much a deduction of reason as a matter of experience, that we are thus under His government,-under His government, in the same sense as we are under the government of civil magistrates; because the annexing pleasure to some actions and pain to others in our power to do or forbear, and giving notice of this appointment beforehand to those whom it concerns, is the proper formal notion of government. Whether the pleasure or pain which thus follows upon our behaviour be owing to the Author of nature's acting upon us every moment which we feel it, or to His having at once contrived and executed His own part in the plan of the world, makes no alteration as to the matter before us. For if civil magistrates could make the sanctions of their laws take place without interposing at all after they had passed them, without a trial and the formalities of an execution; if they were able to make their laws execute themselves, or every offender to execute them upon himself,— we should be just in the same sense under their government then as we are now, but in a much higher degree and more perfect manner. Vain is the ridicule with which one foresees some persons will divert themselves upon finding lesser pains considered as instances of Divine punishment. There is no possibility of answering or evading the general thing here intended without denying all final causes; for final causes being admitted, the pleasures and pains now mentioned must be admitted too as instances of them. And if they are, if God annexes delight to some actions, and uneasiness to others, with an apparent design to induce us to act so and so, then He not only dispenses happiness and misery, but also rewards and punishes actions. If, for example, the pain which we feel upon doing what tends to the destruction of our bodies,-suppose upon too near approaches to fire, or upon wounding ourselves,―be appointed by the Author of nature to prevent our doing what thus tends to our destruction, this is altogether as much an instance of His punishing our actions, and consequently of our being under His government, as declaring by a voice from Heaven that if we acted so He would inflict such pain upon us, and inflicting it whether it be greater or less. Thus we find, that the true notion or conception of the Author of nature is that of a master or governor, prior to the consideration of His moral attributes. The fact of our case,

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which we find by experience, is, that He actually exercises dominion or government over us at present, by rewarding and punishing us for our actions, in as strict and proper a sense of these words, and even in the same sense, as children, servants, subjects, are rewarded and punished by those who govern them. And thus the whole analogy of nature, the whole present course of things, most fully shows, that there is nothing incredible in the general doctrine of religion that God will reward and punish men for their actions hereafter; nothing incredible, I mean, arising out of the notion of rewarding and punishing; for the whole course of nature is a present instance of His exercising that government over us which implies in it rewarding and punishing.

2. OF BRIDLING THE TONGUE.—(SERMON IV.)

The due and proper use of any natural faculty or power is to be judged of by the end and design for which it was given us. The chief purpose for which the faculty of speech was given to man, is plainly that we might communicate our thoughts to each other, in order to carry on the affairs of the world, for business, and for our improvement in knowledge and learning. But the good Author of our nature designed us not only necessaries, but likewise enjoyment and satisfaction, in that being He hath graciously given, and in that condition of life He hath placed us in. There are secondary uses of our faculties: they administer to delight as well as to necessity; and as they are equally adapted to both, there is no doubt but He intended them for our gratification as well as for the support and continuance of our being. The secondary use of speech is to please and be entertaining to each other in conversation. This is in every respect allowable and right. It unites men closer in alliances and friendships, gives us a fellow-feeling of the prosperity and unhappiness of each other, and is in several respects serviceable to virtue, and to promote good behaviour in the world. And provided there be not too much time spent in it, if it were considered only in the way of gratification and delight, men must have strange notions of God and of religion to think that He can be offended with it, or that it is anyway inconsistent with the strictest virtue. But the truth is, such sort of conversation, though it has no particular good tendency, yet it has a general good one: it is social and friendly, and tends to promote humanity, good-nature, and civility.

As the end and use, so likewise the abuse of speech relates to the one or other of these; either to business or to conversation. As to the former, deceit in the management of business and affairs does not properly belong to the subject now before us: though one may just mention that multitude, that endless number of words, with which business is perplexed; when a much fewer would, as it should seem, better serve the purpose; but this must be left to those who understand the matter. The government of the tongue, considered as a subject of itself, relates chiefly to conversation; to that

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kind of discourse which usually fills up the time spent in friendly meetings and visits of civility. And the danger is, lest persons entertain themselves and others at the expense of their wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury or offence of their neighbour. If they will observe and keep clear of these, they may be as free and easy and unreserved as they can desire.

The wise man observes that "there is a time to speak, and a time to keep silence." One meets with people in the world who seem never to have made the last of these observations. And yet these great talkers do not at all speak from their having anything to say, as every sentence shows, but only from their inclination to be talking. Their conversation is merely an exercise of the tongue; no other human faculty has a share in it. It is strange these persons can help reflecting, that unless they have in truth a superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary manner furnished for conversation, if they are entertaining, it is at their own expense. Is it possible that it should never come into people's thoughts to suspect, whether or no it be to their advantage to show so very much of themselves? "Oh that you would altogether hold your peace, and it should be your wisdom!" Remember, likewise, there are persons who love fewer words, an inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve some regard, though of too still and composed tempers for you. Of this number was the son of Sirach; for he plainly speaks from experience when he says, 66 as hills of sands are to the steps of the aged, so is one of many words to a quiet man." But one would think it should be obvious to every one, that when they are in company with their superiors of any kind, in years, knowledge, and experience; when proper and useful subjects are discoursed of, which they cannot bear a part in; that these are times for silence; when they should learn to hear and be attentive, at least in their turn. It is indeed a very unhappy way these people are in: they in a manner cut themselves out from all advantage of conversation, except that of being entertained with their own talk; their business in coming into company not being at all to be informed, to hear, to learn; but to display themselves, or rather to exert their faculty and talk without any design at all. And if we consider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat to unbend the mind, as a diversion from the cares, the business, and the sorrows of life, it is of the very nature of it, that the discourse be mutual. This, I say, is implied in the very notion of what we distinguish by conversation, or being in company. Attention to the continued discourse of one alone grows more painful often, than the cares and business we come to be diverted from. He, therefore, who imposes this upon us, is guilty of a double offence: arbitrarily enjoining silence upon all the rest, and likewise obliging them to this painful attention.

I am sensible these things are apt to be passed over, as too little to come into a serious discourse; but, in reality, men are obliged, even in point of morality and virtue, to observe all the decencies of behaviour. The greatest evils in life have had their rise from some