time of its first publication. His "Hore Paulinæ," decidedly his most ingenious and original work, was not so popular, though exceedingly valued by scholars and students of divinity. Its object is to open a new department of evidence in favor of Christianity, by comparing the Epistles of Paul with his history as recorded by Luke in the Acts, and by marking what he designates as the "undesigned coincidences" of the one with the other. In this way he shows the genuineness of both, and thus furnishes a novel and ingenious, and at the same time a very conclusive, species of testimony in behalf of revealed religion. The most exceptionable of all Paley's works is his "Moral Philosophy." In it he takes the ground that "whatever is expedient is right"-a doctrine true, indeed, if man could see all things, and look into futurity; but a most dangerous one to a being so short-sighted as he who "knows not what a day may bring forth." Indeed, in many parts of this work may be found sentiments altogether too loosely expressed, and principles of action laid down of a character far too compromising; which at once remind us of his remark, when he was a fellow at Cambridge, and had been requested to sign a petition for relief in the matter of subscription to the "Thirty-nine Articles" of the Church of England, that he "was too poor to keep a conscience:"-in other words, that, where his conscience and his worldly interests came in conflict, the former must give way to the latter. So also, about the same time, he offered, as a subject which he intended to discuss, "The Eternity of Future Punishment Contradictory to the Divine Attributes;" but, finding that it would be very displeasing to the master of his college, he concluded to insert the word "Nor" before "contradictory." Such facts reveal a character lacking in moral firmness, certainly, if not in moral principle.3 Literally, "Pauline Hours;" that is, hours spent in comparing numerous facts which the apostle Paul incidentally states of himself in his Epistles, with what is narrated of him in the Acts of the Apostles. 2 For a triumphant refutation of the dangerous doctrines of his Moral Philosophy, read the "Essays on Morality," by that clear-headed, conscientious Christian moralist, Jonathan Dymond-the best work on the subject extant. But a clergyman of the Church of England has come to the rescue of Paley, in a work with the following title, "A Vindication of Dr. Paley's Theory of Morals from the Objections of Dugald Stewart, Mr. Gisborne, Dr. Pierson, and Dr. Thomas Brown, &c., by the Rev. Latham Wainewright, M. A." His arguments, if not conclusive, are certainly very ingenious. A writer in the London Athenæum of August, 1848, has shown very conclusively that Dr. Paley's Natural Theology is, in the outline of its argument and in its most striking illustra tions, (especially in the well-known story of the watch.) a stupendous plagiarism, taken from a work of Dr. Nienwentyt, of Holland, and translated into English, and published by Longman, in 1718, under the title of "The Christian Philosopher." A writer in the "Church and State Gazette," in reviewing this article in the Athenæum, remarks-"In the annals of literary corsairship we never heard of any thing equalling piracy like this; and unless the friends and relatives of Paley can submit satisfactory evidence before the tribunal of the public, that he has had foul wrong done unto him, his reputation as an honest writer sinks for ever beneath the sea of contemptuous oblivion. He is no more the author of the “Natural Theology" than any other work which he did not write." In a subsequent number of the Athenæum, a writer comes to the vindication of Paley, and partially excuses him on the ground that his "Natural Theology" was originally lectures delivered to his students, in which he embodied all he had read, without giving credit to the sources whence he borrowed, and that when these lectures were published in the form we now have them, he either could not, or forgot to give credit to the original sources. On this defence, the editor of the Athenæum remarks-"We think the letter of our correspondent gives the most satisfactory solution of this matter that has yet been offered, and the best probably that can be given, To our view, then, the most satisfactory is a most unsatisfactory one." HUMILITY. Humble-mindedness is a Christian duty, if there be one. It is more than a duty; it is a principle; and its influence is exceedingly great, not only upon our religious, but our social character. They who are truly humble-minded have no quarrels, give no offence, contend with no one in wrath and bitterness; still more impossible is it for them to insult any man under any circumstances. But the way to be humble-minded is the way I am pointing out, namely, to think less of our virtues and more of our sins. In reading the parable of the Pharisee and the publican, if we could suppose them to be real characters, I should say of them, that the one had first come from ruminating upon his virtues, the other from meditating upon his sins and mark the difference, first, in their behavior; next, in their acceptance with God. The Pharisee is all loftiness, and contemptuousness, and recital, and comparison; full of ideas of merit; views the poor publican, although withdrawn to a distance from him, with eyes of scorn. The publican, on the contrary, enters not into competition with the Pharisee, or any one. So far from looking round, he durst not so much as lift up his eyes, but casts himself, hardly indeed presumes to cast himself, not upon the justice, but wholly and solely upon the mercies of his Maker-" God be merciful to me a sinner." We know the judgment which our Lord himself pronounced upon the case: "I tell you this man went down to his house justified rather than the other." The more, therefore, we are like the publican, and the less we are like the Pharisee, the more we come up to the genuine temper of Christ's religion. THE WORLD WAS MADE WITH A BENEVOLENT DESIGN.1 It is a happy world after all. The air, the earth, the water, teem with delightful existence. In a spring noon or a summer evening, on whichever side I turn my eyes, myriads of happy beings crowd upon my view. "The insect youth are on the wing." Swarms of new-born flies are trying their pinions in the air. Their sportive motions, their wanton mazes, their gratuitous activity, their continual change of place without use or purpose, testify their joy and the exultation which they feel in their lately discovered faculties. A bee amongst the flowers, in spring, is one of the most cheerful objects that can be looked upon. Its life appears to be all enjoyment; so busy and so pleased: yet it is only a specimen of insect life, with which, by reason of the animal being "The common course of things is in favor of happiness: happiness is the rule, misery the exception. Were the order reversed, our attention would be called to examples of health and competency, instead of disease and want.”—BUTLER'S Analogy. half domesticated, we happen to be better acquainted than we are with that of others. The whole winged insect tribe, it is probable, are equally intent upon their proper employments, and, under every variety of constitution, gratified, and perhaps equally gratified, by the offices which the Author of their nature has assigned to them. But the atmosphere is not the only scene of enjoyment for the insect race. Plants are covered with aphides, greedily sucking their juices, and constantly, as it should seem, in the act of sucking. It cannot be doubted but that this is a state of gratification: what else should fix them so close to the operation, and so long? Other species are running about with an alacrity in their motions which carries with it every mark of pleasure. Large patches of ground are sometimes half covered with these brisk and sprightly natures. If we look to what the waters produce, shoals of the fry of fish frequent the margins of rivers, of lakes, and of the sea itself. These are so happy that they know not what to do with themselves. Their attitudes, their vivacity, their leaps out of the water, their frolics in it, (which I have noticed a thousand times with equal attention and amusement,) all conduce to show their excess of spirits, and are simply the effects of that excess. Walking by the sea-side in a calm evening upon a shady shore and with an ebbing tide, I have frequently remarked the appearance of a dark cloud, or rather very thick mist, hanging over the edge of the water, to the height, perhaps, of half a yard, and of the breadth of two or three yards, stretching along the coast as far as the eye could reach, and always retiring with the water. When this cloud came to be examined, it proved to be nothing else than so much space filled with young shrimps in the act of bounding into the air from the shallow margin of the water, or from the wet sand. If any motion of a mute animal could express delight, it was this: if they had meant to make signs of their happiness, they could not have done it more intelligibly. Suppose, then, what I have no doubt of, each individual of this number to be in a state of positive enjoyment-what a sum, collectively, of gratification and pleasure have we here before our view! The young of all animals appear to me to receive pleasure simply from the exercise of their limbs and bodily faculties, without reference to any end to be attained, or any use to be answered by the exertion. A child, without knowing any thing of the use of language, is in a high degree delighted with being able to speak. Its incessant repetition of a few articulate sounds, or perhaps of the single word which it has learned to pronounce, proves this point clearly. Nor is it less pleased with its first successful endeavors to walk, or rather to run, (which precedes walking,) although entirely ignorant of the importance of the attainment to its future life, and even without applying it to any present purpose. A child is delighted with speaking, without having any thing to say; and with walking, without knowing where to go. And prior to both these, I am disposed to believe that the waking hours of infancy are agreeably taken up with the exercise of vision, or perhaps, more properly speaking, with learning to see. But it is not for youth alone that the great Parent of creation hath provided. Happiness is found with the purring cat no less than with the playful kitten; in the arm-chair of dozing age, as well as in either the sprightliness of the dance or the animation of the chase. To novelty, to acuteness of sensation, to hope, to ardor of pursuit, succeeds what is, in no inconsiderable degree, an equivalent for them all, "perception of ease." Herein is the exact difference between the young and the old. The young are not happy but when enjoying pleasure; the old are happy when free from pain. And this constitution suits with the degrees of animal power which they respectively possess. The vigor of youth was to be stimulated to action by impatience of rest; whilst, to the imbecility of age, quietness and repose become positive gratifications. In one important step the advantage is with the old. A state of ease is, generally speaking, more attainable than a state of pleasure. A constitution, therefore, which can enjoy ease, is preferable to that which can taste only pleasure. This same perception of ease oftentimes renders old age a condition of great comfort, especially when riding at its anchor after a busy or tempestuous life. It is well described by Rousseau to be the interval of repose and enjoyment between the hurry and the end of life. How far the same cause extends to other animal natures, cannot be judged of with certainty. The appearance of satisfaction with which most animals, as their activity subsides, seek and enjoy rest, affords reason to believe that this source of gratification is appointed to advanced life under all or most of its various forms. In the species with which we are best acquainted, namely, our own, I am far, even as an observer of human life, from thinking that youth is its happiest season, much less the only happy one. Natural Theology. CONSTANT BLESSINGS SHOULD EXCITE CONSTANT GRATITUDE. One great cause of our insensibility to the goodness of our Creator, is the very extensiveness of his bounty. We prize but little what we share only in common with the rest, or with the generality of our species. When we hear of blessings, we think forthwith of successes, of prosperous fortunes, of honors, riches, preferments; that is, of those advantages and superiorities over others which we happen either to possess, or to be in pursuit of, or to covet. The common benefits of our nature entirely escape us. Yet these are the great things; these constitute what most properly ought to be accounted blessings of Providence; what alone, if we might so speak, are worthy of its care. Nightly rest and daily bread, the ordinary use of our limbs, and senses, and understandings, are gifts which admit of no comparison with any other; yet, because almost every man we meet possesses these, we leave them out of our enumeration. They raise no sentiment; they move no gratitude. Now herein is our judgment perverted by our selfishness. A blessing ought, in truth, to be the more satisfactory, (the bounty at least of the donor is rendered more conspicuous,) by its very diffusion, its commonalty, its cheapness; by its falling to the lot and forming the happiness of the great bulk and body of our species as well as of ourselves. The same. : PRAYER. We find our Lord resorting to prayer in his last extremity; and with an earnestness, I had almost said a vehemence of devotion, proportioned to the occasion. As soon as he came to the place, he bade his disciples pray. When he was at the place, he said unto them, Pray ye, that ye enter not into temptation. This did not content him this was not enough for the state and sufferings of his mind. He parted even from them. He withdrew about a stone's cast, and kneeled down. Hear how his struggle in prayer is described! Three times he came to his disciples, and returned again to prayer: thrice he kneeled down at a distance from them, repeating the same words. Being in an agony, he prayed more earnestly: drops of sweat fell from his body, as if it had been great drops of blood: yet, in all this, throughout the whole scene, the constant conclusion of his prayer was, "not my will, but thine be done." It was the greatest occasion that ever was-and the earnestness of our Lord's prayer, the devotion of his soul, corresponded with it.-Scenes of deep distress await us all. It is in vain to expect to pass through the world without falling into them. But, whatever may be the fortune of our lives, one great extremity at least, the hour of approaching death, is certainly to be passed through. What ought then to occupy us? What can then support us ?-Prayer. Prayer, with our blessed Lord, was a refuge from the storm: almost every word he uttered during that tremendous scene was prayer: prayer the most earnest, the most urgent; repeated, continued, proceeding from the recesses of the soul; private, solitary; prayer for deliverance; prayer for strength; above every thing, prayer for resignation. CHARACTER OF PAUL. Sermon viii. Here then we have a man of liberal attainments, and, in other points, of sound judgment, who had addicted his life to the service of the gospel. We see him, in the prosecution of his purpose, |