Neither is it the part of justice to indulge passion, nor to gratify revenge, nor in any mysterious way to satisfy the claims of law, but to check the progress of vice and misery, by correcting the evil dispositions from which they proceed. By inflicting punishment on the sinner, it accomplishes this in two ways. First, by the effect of example operating as a warning on those who may be disposed to commit similar offences; and, secondly, by making the transgressor himself feel the evil consequences of his conduct, and thereby inducing him to avoid it in future. Every person allows, that the first is one object of the inflictions of justice, but surely the second is at least equally important; since it applies to the root of the evil at once, and aims to correct actual, while the other can only prevent possible evil. If the punishment which justice imposes can prevent the commission of crimes in future, and correct the disposition from which the past have proceeded, it is both more perfect and more benevolent than if it effect the one without the other. That it is in itself possible to accomplish both, cannot be denied; and since God is able to do all that is possible, and disposed to do all that is best, he must effect both.

In the 18th chapter of Ezekiel, there is a beautiful passage which illustrates in a striking manner this view of the Divine justice. The house of Israel had complained that the conduct

of God was not just. He condescends to reason with them on the subject, and to prove that his dispensations are perfectly equitable. "If," says he, "the wicked turn from all the sins that he hath committed, and keep all my statutes, and do that which is lawful and right, he shall surely live, he shall not die: his transgressions that he hath committed shall not be mentioned to him; in his righteousness that he hath done he shall live. Have I any pleasure at all that the wicked should die, saith the Lord God, and not that he should return from his ways and live? But when the righteous turneth away from his righteousness, and committeth iniquity, and doeth according to all the abominations that the wicked man doeth, shall he live? All the righteousness that he hath done shall not be mentioned in his trespass that he has trespassed, and in his sins that he has sinned, he shall die. Yet ye say that the way of the Lord is not equal. Hear now, O house of Israel, is not my way equal, and are not your ways unequal? When a righteous man turneth away from his righteousness and committeth iniquity, and dieth in them, for his iniquity that he hath done he shall die. Again, when the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive. Because he considereth and turneth away from all his transgressions that he hath

committed, he shall surely live; he shall not die."

This is as though he had said—When the wicked man turns from his sins, I cease to punish him. I do not remember against him his former transgressions. His moral state is changed; my conduct towards him is therefore no longer the same. While he was wedded to transgression it was necessary that he should be punished. Now that he is repentant and obedient, it has ceased to be so, and I may visit him with the smiles of favor. I have no pleasure in his misery or death: neither can benefit or gratify me: all my dispensations are designed and have a tendency to make him in love with life, with goodness, and with happiness.

If, on the other hand, the righteous man forsake the path of rectitude, and do according to the abominations of the wicked, I suffer him no longer to be at peace. I permit not his former righteousness to secure him from punishment. It is necessary that experience should teach him the error of his choice. It is the only way to rectify his will and reclaim his heart. Is not this conduct consistent with justice? Does not justice render it indispensable? To both I act as their moral state requires; and thus I will always act. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him. Do you demand the

reason of my conduct? It is because I have no pleasure in the misery of the wicked, and because it is the object of my dispensations to make the wicked righteous, and the righteous happy.

Such is the principle according to which the moral Governor of the world himself declares that he invariably regulates his conduct. Nothing surely can afford a more solid ground of confidence and trust. In the state in which his wisdom has seen fit to place us on the earth, there is much which, to our short-sighted view, may seem inconsistent with perfect rectitude. When we see the triumph of the vicious and the fall of the virtuous; when we behold the prevalence of natural and moral evil, and contemplate the wickedness and misery which desolate the earth, who is there that is not sometimes ready to raise a murmur against the Sovereign Ruler of events, or who does not lift, trembling, his eye to his throne, half doubting whether there be indeed an all-perfect Ruler there? When the storm of adversity falls with violence on our head; when our hearts ache with suffering, or when we weep for the woes of those who are dear to us as ourselves; when our brightest hopes are shrouded in disappointment; when our comforts are snatched from us, and the Merciless Spoiler bears to the tomb our best-loved friends; the soul desponding asks, if that can be wisdom which

occasions such terrible emotion, or that goodness which gives but to take away ?—It is a suspicion which agony extorts from human infirmity. But in the Christian's breast it is only the suspicion of a moment. No where can he direct his attention without perceiving traces of the goodness of God, nor even in the hour of deepest sorrow can he look inward on himself, without discovering numberless proofs of mercy. His faith revives. The iron grasp of despair loosens its hold of his heart. Again he is himself, and while his principles resume their wonted influence in his soul, the language of reviving hope and trust falls from his lips-"Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?' Can he, whose benevolence called me into being, made me what I am, and gave me what I possess, forget to be gracious, or treat me with injustice? It is impossible! Justice and judgment are the habitation of his throne!""

But it is not to the sorrows of life alone, that this view of the Divine justice applies its sustaining energy. It supports our hopes in the prospect of that awful day, which it is so difficult to contemplate with composure. There are moments, when the most pious and holy tremble at the thought of appearing before the tribunal of the Judge of the whole earth; but the conviction that his decisions must tend to promote the ultimate welfare of all. intelligent beings, subdues every gloomy and mistrustful fear.