of human life. When human nature bears so much

it can act but little.

But what a blessed state will that be when we shall never feel this indisposition to duties, either human or divine, through any uneasiness of the body? When we shall never more be subject, to any of these painful impediments, but for ever cast off all those clogs and burdens which fetter the active powers of the soul? Then we shall be joyfully employed in such unknown and glorious services to God our Father, and to the blessed Jesus, as require much superior capacities to what we here possess, and shall find no weakness, no weariness, no pain throughout all the years of our immortality, Rev. vii. 15. None of the blessed above are at rest or idle, either "day or night, but they serve him in his temple," and never cease, and iv. 8. No faintness, no languors are known there. The "inhabitants of that land shall not say, I am sick :" Everlasting vigour, cheerfulness and ease shall render every blessed soul for ever zealous and active in obedience, as the angels are in heaven.

3. Pain unfits us for the enjoyments of life, as well as for the labours and duties of it.' It takes away all the pleasing satisfactions which might attend our circumstances, and renders the objects of them insipid and unrelishing. What pleasure can a rich man take in all the affluence of earthly blessings around him, while some painful distemper holds him upon the rack, and distresses him with the torture? How little delight can he find in meats or in drinks which are prepared for luxury when sharp pain calls

all his attention to the diseased part? What joy can he find in magnificent buildings, in gay and shining furniture, in elegant gardens, or in all the glittering treasures of the Indies, when the gout torments his hands and his feet, or the rheumatism afflicts his limbs with intense anguish? If pain attacks any part of the body and rises to a high degree, the luxuries of life grow tasteless, and life itself is embittered to us: Or when pains less acute are prolonged through weeks and months, and perhaps stick in our flesh all the night as well as in the day; how vain and feeble are all the efforts of the bright and gay things around us to raise the soul into cheerfulness? Therefore Solomon calls old age the "years wherein there is no pleasure," Eccles. xii. 1. Because so many aches and ails in that season pursue us in a continual succession; so many infirmities and painful hours attend us usually in that stage of life, even in the best situation that mortality can boast of, as cuts off and destroys all our pleasures.

But what a wondrous, what a joyful change shall that be, when the soul is commanded to forsake this flesh and blood, when it rises as on the wings of angels to the heavenly world, and leaves every pain. behind it, together with the body in the arms of death? And what a more illustrious and delightful change shall we meet in the great rising day, when our bodies shall start up out of the dust with vigorous immortality, and without any spring or seat of pain? All the unknown enjoyments with which heaven is furnished, shall be taken in by the enlarged powers

of the soul with intense pleasure, and not a moment's pain shall ever interrupt them.

4. Another inconvenience and evil which belongs to pain is, that it makes time and life itself appear tedious and tiresome, and adds a new burden to all other grievances.' Many evidences of this truth are scattered throughout all nature, and on all sides of this globe. There is not one age of mankind but can furnish us with millions of instances. In what melancholy language does Job discover his sensations of the tiresome nature of pain? "I am made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me: When I lie down I say, when shall I rise and the night be gone? And I am full of tossing to and fro unto the dawning of the day," Job vii. 3. When pain takes hold of our flesh, it seems to stretch the measures of time to a tedious length: We cry out as Moses expresses it, Deut. xxviii. 67. "In the morning we say, would to God it were evening; and at the return of the evening we say again, would to God it were morning."

Long are those hours indeed, whether of daylight or darkness, wherein there is no relief or intermission of acute pain. How tiresome a thing is it to count the clock at midnight in long successions, and to wait every hour for the distant approach of morning, while our eyes are unable to close themselves in slumber, and our anguish admits not the common refuge of sleep. There are multitudes among the race of mortals who have known these truths by sore

experience. Blessed be God that we do not always feel them.

But when we turn our thoughts to the heavenly world, where there is no pain, there we shall find no weary hours, no tedious days, though eternity with all its unmeasurable lengths of duration lies before

What a dismal thought is eternal pain? The very mention of it makes nature shudder and stand aghast; but futurity with all its endless years, in a land of peace and pleasure gives the soul the most delightful prospect, for there is no shadow of uneasiness in that state to render our abode there tiresome, or to think the ages of it long.

5. Another evil that belongs to pain is, that it has an unhappy tendency to ruffle the passions, and to render us fretful and peevish within ourselves, as well as towards those who are round about us.' Even the kindest and the tenderest hand that ministers to our relief, can hardly secure itself from the peevish quarrels of a man in extreme pain.

Not that we are to suppose that this peevish hu. mour, this fretfulness of spirit are thereby made inno cent and perfectly excused: No, by no means; but it must be acknowledged still that continuance in pain is too ready to work up the spirit into frequent disquietude and eagerness: We are tempted to fret at every thing, we quarrel with every thing, we grow impatient under every delay, angry with our best friends, sharp and sudden in our resentments, with wrathful speeches breaking out of our lips.

This peevish humour in a day of pain is so common a fault, that I fear it is too much excused and indulged. Let me rather say with myself, My God is now putting me to the trial what sort of Christian I am, and how much I have learnt of self-government, and through his grace I will subdue my uneasy passions, though I cannot relieve my pain.' O it is á noble point of honour gained in a sick chamber, or on a bed of anguish, to lie pressed with extreme pain, and yet maintain a serenity and calmness of soul; to be all meekness and gentleness and patience among our friends or attendants, under the sharp twinges of it; to utter no rude or angry language, and to takė every thing kindly that they say or do, and "become like a weaned child." But such a character is not found in every house.

A holy soul, through the severity of pain, may sometimes in such an hour be too much ruffled by violent and sudden fits of impatience. This proceeded to such a degree even in that good man Job, under his various calamities and the sore boils upon his flesh, that it made him "curse the day wherein he was born," and cry out in the anguish of his spirit, "my soul chooseth strangling and death rather than life," Job iii. and vii. 15. and there have been several instances of those who, having not the fear of God before their eyes, with hasty violence and murderous hands have put an end to their own lives, through their wild and sinful impatience of constant pain.

But these trials are for ever finished when this life expires: Then all our pains are ended for ever if we