tions. How are our hearts, minds, and consciences, affected by sickness! for that, after all, is the main thing. Our burden of pain and anguish appears too great for us to bear, our hearts sink, we need succor; to whom shall we Christians go but to Jesus, who hath said, "Come unto me all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest;" and to whom will he lead us but unto the Father? Thus one unspeakable advantage is that of being drawn near to God. If the blessing of health after recovery raise man's soul toward God, there is something that incites us to far more frequent, and earnest, and holy communion- we mean want or suffering. It ought not so to be, but so it is, when most is withheld from us, and not when we are most bountifully supplied, are we most given to thanksgiving. Accordingly, were we asked to point out one in whom the fire of devotion burns most brightly, we should answer, There, in the bosom of that invalid, who praises God more for the fraction of health he is permitted to retain, than yonder robust man, who cannot tell you what indisposition is. If, then, the pale thin face be most frequently turned toward the skies; if the trembling hands be most fervently lifted up; if the weak voice be most tuned to prayer, are the visitations of disease so unnecessary as we are sometimes wont to imagine? Not only, however, is there the weight of what we endure, there is also a consequent operation of our minds, the apprehension of death, which is likewise very salutary. "It is appointed unto men once to die," is a sentence with which we have been acquainted from our childhood; but to die, to lie down in the quiet grave, are words which we do not realize, till the silver thread of our own lives becomes loosened. What a mighty change is then brought about, as regards our estimation of temporal and eternal interests! Houses, lands, titles, rank, wealth, on which we lay so much stress, all seem bubbles, that may at any moment burst, and forever; life itself, which appeared all in all, assumes the aspect of a thin vapor, which a ray of the sun, or a breath of wind, may disperse; earth, in which were centred all our plans and operations, is regarded as a simple place of sojourn, a mere land of pilgrimage; and now, upon the ruins of all that we had before deemed great, and solid, and valuable, rise before us in their true loveliness and grandeur, vague theories, not sunny visions, but the realities of heaven and eternity. "My mind (said one, whose earthly existence was fast drawing to a close), my mind is crowded with thoughts, precious thoughts of death and immortality." Is not then sickness indeed a benefit to us, if it thus draw away our thoughts and affections from the fading and transitory of earth, and lift them up to things above? Truly, as well as poetically, has it been written: not "Thou art like night, O sickness! deeply stilling Within my heart the world's disturbing sound, And the dim quiet of my chamber filling, With low, sweet voices, by life's tumult drown'd. "Thou art like starry, spiritual night! High and immortal thoughts attend thy way, Brings not, though wakening with its rosy ray Nor is this all. There is, almost as a necessary result of this change in our views and prospects, an awakening of conscience, a deep spiritual thoughtfulness on practical duties, and a most sanctifying and elevating influence on our whole character. Seeing that the material universe will be dissolved, we are struck with the immense importance of the question, What manner of men ought we to be? A searching retrospect is made of our past lives; all adventitious circumstances being removed, every thing is judged by the unfailing standards of truth and goodness: then falls the silent tear of penitence, and the one object which henceforth appears worth living for, is to become like Christ, fit for the *Mrs. Hemans. divine presence and the abodes of the blessed.* Ought we not, then, to be in a great measure reconciled to an appointment, wherein we can trace so manifest a tendency to build us up to the full stature of the perfect man? In thus describing the fruits of sickness, we are earnestly desirous others should feel as we do, that we are not dealing in mere gratifying speculations; what we have stated is confirmed by great and good men without number, of all nations and ages. Go we back to antiquity, we have a testimony from an observing heathen,-"I had lately (he remarks) an opportunity of seeing, in my attendance on a *"If (observes Pope in a letter to Sir Richard Steele), what Waller says be true, that 'The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made;' then surely sickness, contributing no less than old age to the shaking down this scaffolding of the body, may discover the inward structure more plainly. Sickness is a sort of early old age; it teaches us a diffidence in our earthly state, and inspires us with the thoughts of a future, better than a thousand volumes of philosophers and divines. It gives so warning a concussion to those props of our vanity, our strength and youth, that we think of fortifying ourselves within, when there is so little dependence upon our out-works." "Sickness is one of God's kindest messengers, to put us in mind of our folly, and incogitance, and excess, in health and how discomposed and disconsolate soever it renders our thoughts, it awakens those that have long slept, and presents many things to our clearest view, which we had laid aside, never to be thought of more."-Clarendon. friend in a languishing state, how much better we all are for sickness: for avarice and vice then lose their hold upon us; we are no more slaves to our irregular passions; the honors of the world are no allurement to us; its wealth we slight, finding that, be our pittance ever so small, it will serve us to our journey's end. At such seasons, we think of God, and remember that we ourselves are mortal; we neither envy nor despise others, nor take a malignant pleasure in hearing their faults exposed." And now let Christians bear witness. One, who was at the same time one of our greatest philosophers, and most learned and pious followers of Christ, in reviewing his pilgrimage, as he approached the vale of years, declares, "I even think it an advantage to me, and am truly thankful for it, that my health received the check that it did, when I was young; since a muscular habit, from high health and strong spirits, is not, I think, in general, accompanied with that sensibility of mind, which is favorable both to piety and to speculative pursuits." And an eminent American divine, not long since gathered to his fathers, speaks thus in a letter to a young friend: "There was a time, when we thought it was commanded you speedily to join the company of those who have entered on their reward. Thacher is gone, and others stand feebly in their places, so that we are doubly grateful for every one who is threatened and yet spared. I dare say that |