when he observes the health and activity, the cheerful countenance and vigorous spirits of the labourer whom he employs, his continual occupation and sound rest, and compares it with his own languor and listlessness; when he reflects how burthensome his time and thoughts are, when he reflects upon his tedious days and wakeful nights-when he takes this view of his own condition, he repines at the superior lot of those whose humble but active station supplies them with employment, and exempts them from care.

Stations of peril and enterprise are generally envied by those who are tired with the slow progress of their fortunes; while such men, in their turn, regret the situations they have left, or lament that they ever exchanged the plain path of patient industry for scenes of adventure and uncertainty. And all such mutual discontents are governed by the same mistake—each man forgets his own advantages, and magnifies those of others: -each party is impatient under his own sufferings, and ignorant of those of his neighbours. Generally speaking, we cannot employ our time or thoughts worse than in comparing our own condition with that of others. For the most part, the fewer of these comparisons we make, the better. Indeed, when the mind is in health, as we may say, when the spirits and temper are properly composed, we seldom concern ourselves with them at all; yet if we will make such comparisons, it is of consequence that we make them truly. This we can never do, till we learn to allow a great deal for the intimate knowledge we have of our own condition, and the imperfect judgement we can form of other men's-for there is a wide difference between observing an evil or inconvenience in others, and coming actually to experience it ourselves-and lastly, for our imperfect enjoyment of pleasures which are new and unexperienced,

Secondly; the best remedy for discontent is, to learn to attend to those blessings which we enjoy in common perhaps with the rest, or with the generality of mankind, instead of looking for other exclusive or particular privileges which some men possess beyond or above others. A blessing is in reality not the less valuable because others possess it as well as ourselves; and yet it requires some generosity of temper to see this. It is for the want or defect of this temper that the love of God obtains so little in the heart of man-that there is so much less gratitude towards Him than might be expected from reasonable

creatures to such a benefactor. Health and liberty, the perfect enjoyment of our limbs and reason, the use of our understanding and the faculties of our mind, are blessings beyond all price; yet because others possess them as well as ourselves, because they are only common to us with almost every man we meet, they are seldom in our thoughts-seldom subjects either of satisfaction to ourselves, or of gratitude to God. Not one man in ten reflects from whom he receives these blessings, or continues to receive them. If we are not indulged with riches and honours, and high stations, with the means and knowledge of luxury and show; unless we are distinguished by those favours which, from the nature of them, must be confined to a few, we can see nothing in our own condition to be thankful for. Could this narrowness of mind be once so far got rid of, as to allow us to estimate the blessings we enjoy according as they are in themselves, and not by the comparison with others, there are few who might not find enough in their condition to excite sentiments of complacency and content, certainly of gratitude towards God.

Discontent, considered in a religious view, besides that it indisposes us for the duties of our station, by making us lazy or careless about them-besides that it sometimes puts men upon advancing themselves by unjust or forcible means-is utterly inconsistent with a religious temper of mind. It destroys, as we have already said, the love and gratitude we owe to God. It is not to be expected that men should be, nor is it found in fact that they are, capable of much affection towards God, whilst they are discontented with the condition in which he has placed them. When we confer favours, if, instead of observing satisfaction and gratitude in the person obliged, we meet with nothing but impatience, complaint, and discontent, we are naturally and justly offended with such obstinacy of temper: nor do I know any reason why the same temper should not be offensive to God, especially when it is considered that the favours we are able to confer upon one another bear no proportion to those which God has bestowed upon us all.

Discontent, again, argues too great a fondness for the world and for the concerns and advantages of it: a fondness, I mean, greater than is consistent with our expectations and pursuits of a better. Were this world a man's all, it would be difficult to offer any considerations that could abate his passion for it, alle

viate his disappointment, or soothe his complaints: but when another, and a better existence, and of longer duration, is held out to us, such a prospect is calculated, one would think, to moderate our attachment to the present, and our solicitude and concern about it. The differences and distinctions of human life, which so much affect and perplex us, when placed beside this great object, appear what they are, too diminutive to provoke our jealousy or discontent. For these two reasons, contentment in us Christians appears to be our duty as well as our happiness, and as such, is enjoined by St. Paul: "having food and raiment," he writes to Timothy, "let us be therewith content;" and to the Hebrews he commands, "be content with such things as ye have." But above all precepts does he recommend this virtue by his own example: "I have learnt," says he, "in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound; every where, and in all things, I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need." There is something very great and affecting in these words, and quite of a piece with that fortitude and firmness of mind which distinguished St. Paul's character upon all occasions.

From what has been said, then, it appears that when we repine at our own condition, and covet other men's, we, for the most part, impose upon ourselves- that we are the dupes of a delusion, natural enough, no doubt, but of which a proper exertion of judgement and reflection will get the better;-that when we indulge this fretful, discontented, dissatisfied humour, we cherish a narrow-mindedness, which overlooks the many and great blessings we enjoy, because in common perhaps with most others, in order to torment ourselves with the thought of some fewer, some single advantage which is denied to us;-that this frame of mind is both extremely unfavourable to all sense of affection and gratitude to God Almighty, and also too much. binds down our souls to this world, and prevents any due preparation for, and progress to another.

XLVII.

SUICIDE.

2 SAM. XVII. 23.

"And when Ahithophel saw that his counsel was not followed, he saddled his ass,

and arose, and got him home to his house, to his city, and put his house in order, and hanged himself, and died, and was buried in the sepulchre of his father."

THE crime of suicide prevailing amongst us beyond the example of any other Christian age or country, and the lawfulness of it being maintained, as it is said, by many, it becomes high time to look into the question, to see whether this practice is, or is not, forbidden to the Christian moralist.

I set out with observing, that to those who regard death as the termination of their being, this question becomes a mere computation of interest, a single comparison of the evils of life with its advantages; and according as one or the other shall appear to preponderate, a wise man will relinquish his existence or preserve it. In which estimate however we shall do well to remember that the prospect of many evils is worse than the presence; that though circumstances change not, we shall : that time may dissolve those associations which torment us; that habit accommodates the temper to every variety of situation, and, as the dilated eye discovers glimmerings of light amidst the thickest darkness, so the mind inured to misfortune finds alleviation and comfort in the most desperate condition.

But to those who look for a future day of retribution and account, the lawfulness of suicide becomes a question of a very different nature. The self-murderer, though he fears not him that killeth the body, and after that can do no more, has the same reason with others to fear Him who casteth soul and body into hell-fire. And here I would premise, but without the least distrust of my argument, that should the guilt of suicide turn out at last to be a matter of doubt only, we are bound by that very doubt to abstain from it. There can be no question but that we may, if we will, lawfully continue in existence. There is a question whether we may lawfully quit it. It is a contempt of authority to incur even the danger of disobedience, when a safe and certain choice is in our power. Besides that, the action in this case would want that entire acquiescence and approbation of conscience, which should accompany every important step of a good man's conduct. For he who can overrule the

scruples of his conscience will soon learn to reject its decisions. I am the more confirmed in this position, as I take the case of a hesitating conscience to have been thus, and in an instance of much less importance, adjudged by St. Paul-" He that doubteth," saith the Apostle," is damned if he eat; because he eateth not of faith for whatsoever is not of faith," that is, not done with a full persuasion of the lawfulness of it, "is sin." This caution applies with especial force to the case of suicide; a sin, if it be one, which cuts off all place of reparation and repent

ance.

We now proceed to the inquiry itself, whether a man possesses such a right over his own life and person, that he may lawfully destroy them at his pleasure.

To ask then, what is our duty in any instance, is to ask what the will of God is in that instance. Now the will of God, as of every other intelligent being, must be learnt upon any point, from his express declarations where they can be had; or, where these are silent, from his general character and disposition; from the aim and analogy of his laws and conduct in other instances. We will begin with this latter inquiry, and see how the question stands, upon the foot of reason and natural religion.

First then, the divine will is intimated by that eager and instinctive love of life, which prevails without exception through the whole animal creation. There are who think this love of life to be nothing more than what results from a sense and experience of the pleasures it affords; and to those who think so, this argument has no weight. Many, on the other hand, observe a violence and intensity in this passion, beyond what they deem either the value of life or the pains of death could on their own account create. To such there will appear a separate and original principle superadded for this special purpose, to retain men in existence, when disgust or despair would drive them out of it. And considered in this light, it becomes a proof of God's intention, that we should preserve our lives; and consequently, of his displeasure against those who wilfully and wantonly destroy them.

Secondly; he, who puts it out of his power to do his duty, refuses to do it: and who is there so disengaged and unconnected, as to have no duty or demand upon him? Who is there that owes not to some relation or other, industry or obedience,