the active exertions of the full grown, and that fecond childhood to which the decrepi-. tude of age brings us, and which renders us dependent upon the care, and attention, and active endeavours of thofe, to whom we had been formerly obliged to lend a like attention in different circumftances; these all fhew us that man is made for action, and that neceffity forces it upon him. This is so true, that if perfect and entire indolence were to take place, death would foon overtake the vigorous and the robuft; and the infant, whofe cries feldom fail to excite our attention and our endeavours to help it, and the aged, whose grey hairs and exhaufted vigour now command our respect and affiftance, would feel the effects of an inhumanity, founded in the love of repose, more fatal than any that ever actuated the breast of the cruel and revengeful. Our state and condition, then, proves, that we were intended for action and exertion. The general propenfities and conduct of human creatures prove the fame. A child no fooner begins to distinguish objects, than it shews fome defire of moving towards them, or discovers a wifh of having them brought within his reach. Ten thousand attempts

tempts he makes, before he can use his limbs; but no fooner does he obtain the use of them than he is conftantly exerting them. Except the feafon taken up in fleep, children are continually exerting themselves; and all that playfulness and useless labour, as we fometimes think it, but which was once fo delightful to every one of us, are necessary to the increase of their growth, the strength of their bodies, the expansion of every corporeal and mental Before the age power. reafon and reflection, an inactive human creature is in that unfortunate condition which we must lament and pity,—the condition of idiotism. Can any thing prove more ftrongly that action is natural to man?

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When man grows up, the keenness, the warmth, and the variety of his paffions and affections keep him almost constantly employed; and if, by the proper direction of these, he does not acquire habits of activity, which remain with him at a lefs turbulent period of life, he feels the refentment of nature against his misconduct; and his liftlefs days, and the difcontent which never fails to be confequent upon them, fufficiently inform him how grievously he has erred. To judge of this

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matter, let us only appeal to what we have experienced. When employed in any innocent and useful occupation, or in the bringing to maturity any virtuous and praife-worthy plan, how short does the day feem, and how swiftly do the hours pafs away! When the body is not employed, nor the mind exerted; when a man is half asleep, and reduced to that often desired state of having nothing to do, how completely miferable is he! The present hour is tirefome; the reflection upon it is painful. Thus our earliest propensities, and consciousness of what we feel, and experience afterwards, coincide with the neceffities of our state and the circumstances of our condition, to fhow us that man was made for action. Is it to be believed, then, that religion should be addressed only to what is fecondary in our nature and state, and not to what is primary and most important?

In the 2d place: The neceffity of joining the practice of religion to the knowledge of it, appears from the general analogy of nature with respect to all our purfuits, employments, and occupations. Arguments drawn from the general tenor of ordinary life, and applied to things that are of a more spiritual N

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and exalted nature, certainly ought to have weight with us. They will have weight with all who are of a fober and attentive turn of mind; nor, as far as I can recollect, do I know of one general conclufion taken from the ordinary conduct of life, which, when applied to us as religious and immortal creatures, would tend to mislead us. Let us, then, confider how the cafe ftands as to our temporal pursuits and employments; and here we shall find, that if knowledge is confidered as fufficient of itself, and not as the foundation for conduct and practice, it becomes even ridiculous, and renders the perfon indued with it, more contemptible than if he had been immerfed in ignorance. Suppofe that any of you called a physician to vifit a parent, a child, or a domeftic, and that he should talk to you every time of the nature and kind of the diftemper with which his patient was afflicted, but applied nothing for his relief; what judgment would ye form of him, if the perfon diftreffed fhould die? You would, no doubt, think you had reason to reproach the physician. And if in answer to your refentment against his indolence and neglect, he should begin a learned differtation,

differtation, and prove to you that he underftood the cafe thoroughly; would you not confider him as affronting your understanding, and difgracing his own profeffion? If you > had loft your caufe at law by the negligence of your advocate, who, to apoligize for himfelf, should talk to you about the nature of fimilar rights, of evidence and probation; would you not believe the man to be a compound of knavery and impudence, without the least spark of virtue, or the least fitness for his employment?

A man that could believe himself to be a husbandman, because he could defcribe all the utensils in husbandry, and discourse learnedly on the nature of foils and manures, and every time his crop misgave him, should think he fufficiently vindicated his own management by giving an ingenious description of a plough or a harrow, we should all be tempted to esteem a fool, notwithstanding the wisdom of his words.

If a merchant should difcourfe of all the articles of commerce, defcribe the countries whence they come, the easiest and best method of importing them, and yet never have any thing in his fhop, but goods that were extravagant

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