ittle knowledge to render them vain: hence the unjust
imputation often brought upon Religion by those, whose degree of
Religion is just sufficient, by condemning their course of conduct, to
render them uneasy: enough merely to impair the sweetness of the
pleasures of sin, and not enough to compensate for the relinquishment of
them by its own peculiar comforts. Thus these men bring up, as it were,
an ill report of that land of promise, which, in truth, abounds with
whatever, in our journey through life, can best refresh and strengthen
us.

We have enumerated some sources of pleasure which men of the world may
understand, and must acknowledge to belong to the true Christian; but
there are others, and those of a still higher class, to which they must
confess themselves strangers. To say nothing of a qualified, I dare not
say an entire, exemption from those distracting passions and corroding
cares, by which he must naturally be harassed, whose treasure is within
the reach of mortal accidents; there is the humble quiet-giving hope of
being reconciled to God, and of enjoying his favour; with that solid
peace of mind, which the world can neither give nor take away, that
results from a firm confidence in the infinite wisdom and goodness of
God, and in the unceasing care and kindness of a generous Saviour: and
there is the persuasion of the truth of the divine assurance, that all
things shall work together for good.

When the pulse indeed beats high, and we are flushed with youth, and
health, and vigour; when all goes on prosperously, and success seems
almost to anticipate our wishes; then we feel not the want of the
consolations of Religion: but when fortune frowns, or friends forsake
us; when sorrow, or sickness, or old age, comes upon us, then it is,
that the superiority of the pleasures of Religion is established over
those of dissipation and vanity, which are ever apt to fly from us when
we are most in want of their aid. There is scarcely a more melancholy
sight to a considerate mind, than that of an old man, who is a stranger
to those only true sources of satisfaction. How affecting, and at the
same time how disgusting, is it to see such an one awkwardly catching at
the pleasures of his younger years, which are now beyond his reach; or
feebly attempting to retain them, while they mock his endeavours and
elude his grasp! To such an one, _gloomily_ indeed does the evening of
life set in! All is sour and cheerless. He can ne