world which ministers to it, are God's handiworks as well as
the soul; and that it is He himself who has adjusted their relative
workings. And surely it is quite unnecessary to remind you at any
length how exquisitely God has fashioned our physical frame, as the
medium of communication with the outer material world. The nostrils
inhale the sweet perfumes which scent the breezy air, and rise as
incense from the flowers that cover the earth. By the eye the soul
perceives the glories of the summer sky, and searches for its midnight
stars; recognises splendour of colour, and beauty of form; gazes
on the outspread landscape of fertile field and hoary mountain, of
stream, forest, ocean, and island; and contemplates that world of
profounder interest still, the human countenance, of beloved parent,
child, or friend, strong with the power of elevated thought, sublime
with the grandeur of moral character, or bright with all the sunshine
of winning emotion. The ear, too, is the magic instrument which
conveys to the soul all the varied harmonies of sound, from the choirs
of spring, and the other innumerable minstrelsies of nature, as well
as from the higher art of man, that soothe, elevate, and solemnise. It
is true, indeed, that there are grosser appetites of the body which
many pervert so as to enslave the spirit; thus abusing by gluttony,
drunkenness, and every form of sensuality, what God the merciful and
wise has intrusted to man to be used for wise and merciful ends. But
even here there is already perceptible a marked difference between
those appetites and the more refined tastes alluded to; inasmuch
as the former are found in their abuse to be, strictly speaking,
unnatural, and destructive of man's happiness; and even in their
legitimate use they decay with advancing years, thus proving that
the stamp of time is upon them as on things belonging to a temporary
economy; whereas such tastes as those that enjoy the beautiful in
nature or in art, for example, abide in old age with a youthful
freshness, and more than a youthful niceness of discernment; and so
afford a presumption that they are destined for immortality. To the
aged saint "the trees clap their hands, the little hills rejoice, and
the mountains break forth into singing;" and when the earth is empty
of every other sentient pleasure, it is in the beauty of its sights
and sounds, still full to him of the glory of his God.

And so must it be for ever! The glorified sain