SERMON XI.

ON A GOOD NAME.

[Concluded.]

In this discourse, we shall more fully show why "a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches."

Though wealth is desirable, and in many instances conducive to human happiness, because it puts it in our power to relieve the wants and distresses of our fellow-creatures, yet it does not possess the charm to convey unbroken peace or solid joy to any bosom. The value of any thing within the range of human action, is to be estimated by its usefulness in promoting the happiness of man. That, which pours the most numerous and refined enjoyments into the soul, is to be considered of the greatest worth; and that, which has a tendency to bring upon us the most alarming miseries, misfortunes, and woes, is of course the most worthless. The one is to be fondly chosen, and pursued in proportion to its worth in administering to our enjoyments, and the other is to be avoided in proportion to its unhappy effects in multiplying our sorrows. This being an undeniable fact, the superlative value of a good name, procured by a virtuous course of

conduct, appears, at once, to transcend all other considerations. A pure, unsullied conscience before heaven, is the most permanent bliss that a rational being can enjoy, and is of that enduring nature which no earthly power or misfortune can destroy. It supports us in the hour of adversity and trial; it comforts us in the dark hour of sorrow; it remains unmoved amidst the storms of life, and lights up the smile of satisfaction on the lips of the dying.

Nor is this all. It affords us other unruffled streams of unmingled felicity in the common intercourse of life. The approbation of the wise and the good, the confidence and esteem of our friends and associates, and the good opinion even of the vicious, are consideration of no ordinary

moment.

They awaken emotions in the heart of the most pleasing gratification, and open in the soul all the avenues of heaven-born felicity, imparting that peace, which this world can neither giye nor take away. But as it respects wealth, we would remark, that though it may communicate happiness by enabling us to relieve the wants of our fellow-creatures, and afford us many joys in the indulgence of our benevolence, yet it cannot of itself communicate happiness, but virtue can. A wicked and unprincipled man is wretched, though he roll in all the wealth and splendors that earth can give. He feels in his bosom a

burning flame, that all the streams of wealth can never quench, and a craving desire, that nothing on earth can gratify. If his " great riches" afford him any enjoyments, yet these are by no means permanent and lasting. The desolating flame may lay them in ruins, the storms on the ocean may sink them in its waves, the famine or blighting mildew may wither them forever, and leave him stripped of all his fancied joys. But nothing of this can happen to virtue That re

mains forever unharmed amidst the shocks of earth. A good name is, therefore, of inconceivably more value than riches, and rather to be chosen than silver and gold.

We are formed for society. God in the beginning said, "It is not good that man should be alone." This being a fact, which all past experience, and the history of our whole race demonstrate, it is, therefore, equally true, that our dearest enjoyments flow from the social affections and from a sincere cultivation of the social intercourse of life. There is, perhaps, not a human being in existence, who would accept of all the wealth of the Indies on the condition, that he should not be respected by a single individual on earth. This circumstance shows us, in noonday light, the superior value of a good name above all the glittering appendages of wealth. Every man is beloved, and esteemed in proportion to his good

ness and usefulness in the world, particularly by those with whom he associates in life. If, then, to love and to be beloved depend on our conduct in the world, and if, at the same time, our happiness is derived from the exercise of reciprocal affection, we see the importance of pitching upon that course of life, which alone can secure those solid pleasures resulting from a well spent life.

Too many persons suppose they can be happy in sin; yes, even in criminal indulgence. But that transgressor was never yet found, who could point to a single wicked act in his life, the remembrance of which ever imparted one solitary gleam of joy to his heart. They may fancy there is happiness in sin; but here is the deception. It is immaterial what some may preach about the pleasures of sin, and the satisfaction the transgressor often takes in a wicked course, yet all this amounts to nothing, so long as the voice of heaven declares, THERE IS NO PEACE, SAITH MY GOD, TO THE WICKED." Infinite wisdom must know, and infinite wisdom has given the decision, and that decision is stamped with immortality, and from it there is no appeal. If we impress the sinner with the idea that he is not punished and rewarded here, but that the whole is to be settled in the future world, then we, in the same proportion, weaken the force of virtue and strengthen the cause of vice. And this is one obvious

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reason, why men continue in sin, as long as they dare, expecting at some future day to repent and escape all punishment. They go on from day to day, and from year to year, with all the thunders of endless and immortal pain sounding in their ears, and even believing it true, yet continue to indulge in sin. Would they run such an awful risk, unless, by a certain course of education, they had been made to believe that there was happiness in transgression? No. If they believed that sin had nought to impart but misery, they would abandon it for its own sake; because happiness is the object of all men.

They have, therefore, by some means or other, been led to the strange infatuation, that sin possesses some secret charm to communicate that happiness to the soul, for which every bosom throbs. This fancied happiness, they vainly imagine, they can obtain by wallowing in the dark waters of iniquity, be happy here, then repent at last, and be happy hereafter. As they pass along in their wretched career, expecting every moment to grasp the fancied pleasure, yet the fond, anticipated phantom flies from their embrace and leaves them in the ruin of their joy. Though disappointed again and again, yet firmly believing that there is happiness in sin, they again push on, and thus far attribute their want of success to some miscalculation. Insensible of the nature of sin, blinded