salutary.

"It is appointed unto men once to die," is a sentence with which we have been acquainted from our childhood; but to die, to lie down in the quiet grave, are words which we do not realize, till the silver thread of our own lives becomes loosened. What a mighty change is then brought about, as regards our estimation of temporal and eternal interests! Houses, lands, titles, rank, wealth, on which we lay so much stress, all seem bubbles, that may at any moment burst, and for ever; life itself, which appeared all in all, assumes the aspect of a thin vapour, which a ray of the sun, or a breath of wind, may disperse; earth, in which were centered all our plans and operations, is regarded as a simple place of sojourn, a mere land of pilgrimage; and now, upon the ruins of all that we had before deemed great, and solid, and valuable, rise before us in their true loveliness and grandeur,—not vague theories, not sunny visions,-but the realities of

heaven and eternity. "My mind, (said one, whose earthly existence was fast drawing to a close,) my mind is crowded with thoughts,-precious thoughts of death and immortality." Is not then sickness, indeed, a benefit to us, if it thus draw away our thoughts and affections from the fading and transitory of earth, and lift them up to things above? Truly, as well as poetically, has it been written,—

"Thou art like night, O sickness! deeply stilling Within my heart the world's disturbing

sound,

And the dim quiet of my chamber filling, With low, sweet voices, by life's tumult drown'd.

Thou art like awful night!-thou gatherest

round

The things that are unseen, tho' close they lie

And with a truth, clear, startling and pro

found,

Giv'st their dread presence to our mental

eye.

Thou art like starry, spiritual night!

High and immortal thoughts attend thy

way,

And revelations, which the common light

Brings not, though wakening with its rosy

ray

All outward life.-Be welcome, then, thy rod, Before whose touch my soul unfolds itself to God!"*

Nor is this all. There is, almost as a necessary result of this change in our views and prospects, an awakening of conscience, a deep spiritual thoughtfulness on practical duties, and a most sanctify ing and elevating influence on our whole character. Seeing that the material universe will be dissolved, we are struck with the immense importance of the question, What manner of men ought we to be? A searching retrospect is made of our past lives; all adventitious circumstances being removed, every thing is judged by the unfailing standards of truth and goodness then falls the silent tear of pe

:

* Mrs. Hemans.

nitence, and the one object which henceforth appears worth living for, is to become like Christ, fit for the divine presence and the abodes of the blessed.*

"If, (observes Pope, in a letter to Sir Richard Steele,) if what Waller says be true, that 'The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made;'

then surely sickness, contributing no less than old age to the shaking down this scaffolding of the body, may discover the inward structure more plainly. Sickness is a sort of early old age; it teaches us a diffidence in our earthly state, and inspires us with the thoughts of a future, better than a thousand volumes of philosophers and divines. It gives so warning a concussion to those props of our vanity, our strength and youth, that we think of fortifying ourselves within, when there is so little dependence upon our outworks."

"Sickness is one of God's kindest messengers, to put us in mind of our folly, and incogitance, and excess, in health: and how discomposed and disconsolate soever it renders our thoughts, it awakens those that have long slept, and presents many things to our clearest view, which we had laid aside, never to be thought of more."-Clarendon.

Ought we not, then, to be in a great measure reconciled to an appointment, wherein we can trace so manifest a tendency to build us up to the full stature of the perfect man?

In thus describing the fruits of sickness, we are earnestly desirous others should feel as we do, that we are not dealing in mere gratifying speculations; what we have stated is confirmed by great and good men without number, of all nations and ages. Go we back to antiquity, we have a testimony from an observing Heathen," I had lately (he remarks) an opportunity of seeing, in my attendance on a friend in a languishing state, how much better we all are for sickness : for avarice and vice then lose their hold upon us; we are no more slaves to our irregular passions; the honours of the world are no allurement to us; its wealth we slight, finding that, be our pittance ever so small, it will serve us to our journey's end. At such seasons, we think of