ing. It is to cherish the unfeigned love of God, and to show this love by the daily imitation of his beneficence and excellence. It is, therefore, to restrain all the injurious, the sensual, and the selfish passions, and to exhibit an example of self-government, temperance, generosity and kindness. Nothing less than this, will make us excellent, or happy. Nothing less than this, therefore, could have been designed by our benevolent Creator, to be the object of our pursuit, the measure of our worth, the arbiter of our welfare, here and hereafter. Whosoever is born of God, doth not commit sin; that is, doth not practice iniquity; but is habitually a good and pious man. This is his character.

And now the great question is, what are the proper evidences of possessing this character?

Let me still take advantage of the principle of comparison, to which I have invited the principal attention of my readers in this discussion. Let us take this matter out of the hands of all technical, peculiar, partial dealing. What are ordinarily the great and decisive evidences of character?

Do they not lie very much, in the first place, in a man's own consciousness? May not every man know whether he is really, and heartily, and habitually a good man? whether he is a man of pure feelings, and upright intentions, and virtuous habits, and pious affections? I am aware that in the minute discriminations of character, there is danger of self-deception. But in the broad veiw, in the general question, need there be any great difficulty? Let a man look at his own consciousness, at his own heart. Can any one reasonably doubt, whether he is an honest man, a temper

ate man, a just dealer, a sober citizen, a kind neighbor, a dutiful child, or the exemplary head of a family? But let us go farther and higher. Can any one really doubt, whether he most loves and seeks the gratifications of sense, or of the soul? whether he more craves an outward property or an inward purity of heart; and whether, in fine, the love of God has taken fixed possession of his mind, and often draws forth its most sacred and tender affections, or whether, on the other hand, the thoughts of God are irksome or indifferent to him?

But I dare not trust this great inquiry to mere consciousness; for it is, after all, liable to deceive. I refer, then, to other considerations; but still to such considerations as decide all other questions of character.

In the next place, then, would any one know whether he is a Christian, let him ask himself whether he performs the outward actions, and leads the course of life, that is appropriate to such a character. The character of a merchant, a philosopher, a student, has its appropriate actions and course of life, and so has the character of a Christian. It is in place, then, for the inquirer to ask himself whether he prays; whether he daily communes-I say not in what form; but whether he does daily commune with that great and good Being, in whom he lives, and moves, and has his life, and being, and hope? It is for him to ask himself, whether he does deeds of kindness and mercy, and speaks words of charitableness, and forbearance, and truth, and renders justice, and respects the claims of equity, and abhors every unrighteous act? whether he is, not in profession only, or in some imaginary feeling, but in deed, in reality, in habit, a good man?

There is one farther test of character which I will take up a moment to state. Most men have in their minds some project, or plan, or wish, with regard to what they consider as the most desirable situation or state in this world. Now I do not make it a matter of objection, if this supposed desirable situation embraces wealth, or honor, or lawful pleasure. But the question I have to ask, is this-What sort of happiness is it, that you expect and wish to enjoy, when you shall have gathered around you, all the means that this world can furnish for that end? Is it a selfish, or a benevolent happiness that you are thinking of? As you answer this question, so are you now, a selfish, or a benevolent man. Now, the answer that is wanted, is not one that may be formed at the present moment. It is better to go back to your reveries, and see what they say. You would travel, perhaps; you would visit foreign countries; you would follow the bent of your tastes, whatever they are. You would, perhaps, locate yourself at home; you would have such a house, and such and such arrangements for domestic convenience, or luxury; you would live in a certain style, and command certain equipage; or you would have a library, and spend your days in reading; or you would be content with the possession, or the honors of wealth. But is this all? Do no other things, do no labors of benevolence, does no relief of misery, vice, or ignorance, mingle with your visions? Then I see not how the conclusion is to be escaped, that you are a worldly and selfish man. He who does not propose to himself any generous and noble deeds, I am afraid is not very likely to perform them. At any rate, he has no strong

desire to perform them now, and that is the question before us.

Such, then, is the great inquiry; and such are the principles by which it is to be conducted. As such, in its simple character, in its solemn import, it is commended to every man's heart, and to every man's life.

The world is full of inquiries. Multitudes are saying, who will show me any good? What shall I eat, and what shall I drink, and wherewithal shall I be clothed? What shall I pursue, and what shall I have? But when every question relating to this world has been asked, and when every question has been answered, and they will soon be asked and answered, then, will the simple and solemn inquiry, AM I A GOOD MAN? supersede and swallow up every other. Every other will be remembered as but 'vanity of vanities,' in the comparison. Yes, be it repeated and be it felt, and rested on, as the most certain and momentous of all truths, when the covetous have asked for wealth, and the voluptuous have asked for pleasure, and the studious have sought and solved all their problems, and the vain have lifted up their hearts for admiration, and the ambitious for honor, then, the simple and the solemn inquiry, AM I A GOOD MAN? AM I A GOOD BEING? shall penetrate every heart, and absorb every mind; then, shall it be felt to be the great, the decisive, the overwhelming question; and the answer to that question shall be to every human being, the register of his welfare, or his woe!

D.

FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD.

The Christian church is an intimate and widespread fellowship. The fellowship of kindness and love with all sentient beings, is its distinguishing spirit; sympathy with the whole moral universe, its end and aim. To rejoice with those that do rejoice, and weep with those that weep,' sums up the practical precepts of the Gospel. To love others tenderly, throwing off as much as we can, the shackles of selfishness, to feel for others as for ourselves, to go out of ourselves, as it were, and live in others, seems to be the distinguishing and happy disposition to which it would bring us.

We all see this, and acknowledge it, and perhaps strive accordingly to cherish a cordial fellow-feeling for every child of mortality, rejoicing or sorrowing before us. We exercise sympathy, it may be, not only with the sharers of our humanity, not only with every living creature, but some even with the inanimate creation; its warm sensibilities almost endowing it to the imagination with life and conscionsness.

But amid this universal sympathy, as it seems, there is still, too often, one fatal exception; and the omission is felt through all the rest of our social affections. I speak of sympathy with-GOD-the realizing of that fellowship which we have with the Father, through his son Jesus Christ. Start not at the familiarity and presumptuousness of the sentiment proposed. It is usually directed to men, and therefore it seems bold to speak of sympathy with God; but in the nature of things there is the same foundation for the feeling in