How. Yes, dear Conway, but no part of creation known to us remains perfect, but those heavens. 'The whole earth

6

is,' indeed, full of the glory of God;' but we cannot perceive that glory, until we know and understand, in the scripture sense, that God is holy.' Without this knowledge, we must continually be at a loss to account for the many imperfections every where visible in our still beautiful part of creation. I allow that it does so greatly display the wisdom, and care, and power, and tenderness of its Creator; and so attracts the heart by its profusion of beauty, and grandeur, and sublimity, that we anxiously attempt to discover perfections in its very imperfections, and some purpose of good in its most apparent evils. But ought we to look for perfection where God himself has marked his curse?

Con. His curse! How harsh and gloomy the idea seems.

How. It is truth, Conway. God,

Yet

cursed the earth for man's sake. when we carefully examine the nature of the curse, we find that, as in all the works and ways of God, so in it there is a glory, a glory in the wisdom that pronounced it, and a glory in the tenderness which is mingled with its fulfilment. To perceive this, however, we must believe the revealed truth, that our world was once, like him for whom it was intended, a perfect work of a perfect Divine Mind, but is now, like man, and fitted for fallen man, a marred work, a beautiful design, but with a blight, a curse upon it.

Con. Allowing the truth, Howard, that there is a curse on the earth for man's sake, I cannot see any tenderness in it, or any good result to man from it. You have just been describing the elevating effects produced by the contemplation of those bright and perfect hea-were we surrounded with equal perfection on earth, would it not have the same effect?

vens;

How. No, my dear Conway, experi

Those heavens
Whatever

ence says the contrary.
we can only contemplate.

man has in his power, is polluted and perverted by him. If it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter heaven, how incalculably greater must the difficulty have been to the whole human race, had they been exposed to the temptations arising from a world in a state of such luxuriant abundance, that it only required manto dress it,' to repress that luxuriance? Let us only suppose all mankind in that state of idleness, and outward enjoyment, and we shall instantly see the mercy of that curse which made the sweat of the brow' necessary to make the earth produce what was necessary for their existence.

Con. I believe you are right. At this moment I recollect some men, to whom, I am sure, it would have been mercy to have compelled them to toil for their sup

port, that they might have been kept from the misery their extravagance and vices have brought upon them.

How. Experience, my dear Conway, will always be found to confirm the truth and wisdom of God, in all his ways; and if you would, while you admire the beauties of nature, and feel a sad pleasure in viewing its decays and changes, recollect that it is in them we see the curse of sin for our sakes, I think you would perceive a tenderness in all, that would enhance a thousand-fold the pleasure you experienced.

Con. (Smiling.) I think, my dear Howard, this is one of those theories in which your mind is always deeply inter

ested.

How. Perhaps it is. I confess that the beautifully perfect sympathy which exists between our feelings, and the natural objects which surround us, has always been very striking to me; and now I think I perceive its use,—it leads us to

perceive the infinite wisdom, and infinite tenderness, of him who so suited them to each other, as to produce this exquisite union, even when clothed in a curse. Were natural objects altogether perfect, Conway, should we feel this sympathy? Con. I believe not.

How. No. It is the resemblance of their changes and decays, their alternate sunshine and clouds, to human feelings and human affairs, which makes natural objects so indescribably attractive; and this manifestation of the character of God may be traced over the whole face of nature. In every part we may observe the curse of an holy God, the consequence of sin, and his mercy and tenderness in so mingling that holy curse in all things, as to produce instruction to the soul, conveyed in objects, sad perhaps, but most powerfully touching and attractive. But, if I enter on this subject, I shall keep you up all night.