1. A slothful man is useless to himself.

The first utility of man to himself, the most natural, and that, to which we are led by the strongest and most universal propensity of our nature, is the acquisition of our subsistence. To this we are called by the most absolute necessity; our exposure to hunger, thirst, and nakedness, to all the sufferings of beggary, and the still keener sufferings of contempt. On the other hand, comfort, reputation, usefulness, duty, and even ambition and avarice, powerfully urge us to industry. These loud calls are heard, accordingly, by almost all men. Even those, who are born in

poverty, feel their influence in such a degree, that in ordinary circumstances they struggle vigorously for a comfortable support; and usually with success. The diligent hand even of these persons makes them in many instances rich; and in most ensures to them a comfortable subsistence. But the man in the text was plainly born the heir of a patrimonial estate. He had a field and a vineyard, and not improbably many fields; but neither produced any thing beside nettles and thorns. Had any thing better grown in either; it would have been destroyed by cattle for the enclosure, by which it should have been defended, was broken down. The proprietor, in the mean time, was at home, and not in his field; stretched on his bed in the day-time, and not at his plough, or his pruning-hook. Instead of cultivating corn and grapes, his proper employment; instead of providing food for himself, and his household; he was crying out beneath the noonday sun, with the feelings of a mere animal, "Yet a little sleep : a little slumber; a little folding of the hands to sleep."

A more useless being than this, even to himself, cannot be imagined by the human mind. In defiance of all the powerful motives, which I have mentioned, he was contented to be hungry and naked, despised and forgotten, if he might only be permitted to dissolve in sloth and lose himself in sleep.

This is an exact as well a strong picture of every lazy man. Every such man is of the same useless character: useless I mean to himself. Every one has not indeed fields and vineyards, to cultivate or neglect: but all manage whatever possessions they have in a similar manner.

This however is not the worst of the case. He is not merely useless to himself; but is his own enemy. The whole character of an enemy is exhibited in destroying or preventing the happiness of him, whom he hates. The slothful man is his own enemy, because he both destroys and prevents his own happiness. This truth, if it needs proof, will be abundantly evident from a few observations.

He prevents his own happiness by wasting his property. This effect of indolence is so inseparably connected with it, and so universally seen to flow from it, that no words are necessary to establish the position in the most incredulous mind.

The same evil he produces also by wasting his time. GOD thought it necessary, and gave it as a law to mankind, that they should labour six days every week, and in this manner do all their work. Experience has abundantly shown the wisdom and the goodness of this law. But, every week, the slothful man spends six days in idleness; and does not labour even one. All these, therefore, are by him voluntarily lost; and all the blessings, which would spring from using them wisely, and diligently. Thus the desire of the slothful killeth him: for his hands refuse to labour. I need not observe that he, that he who wastes six days in the week, will certainly squander the seventh.

Equally does he waste his talents. The employment of our faculties is in itself, probably, the greatest secular pleasure which we enjoy. Neither health, nor property, nor reputation, nor all of them, nor, as I believe, even Religion itself, so far as its existence is possible on such a supposition, will make men happy or keep them from being wretched, without the employment of their faculties. Accordingly, all the miserable beings who are without useful business or refuse to perform it, are driven for the mere purpose of killing time to the card-table, the dram-shop, the horse-race, the corners of streets, or some other miserable haunt of those who do nothing, and who seek here to while away their heavy hours.

But, should it be said, that the slothful man thinks himself as happy as other persons, and is therefore to be accounted so; I ask, VOL. II.

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"What is this happiness?" The answer plainly is, "that of an oyster," found in a mere exemption from insensibility.

The employment of our faculties produces enjoyment also, in a rich train of consequences. Property, character, influence, consciousness of being useful, provision for the wants of sickness and old age, and the satisfaction of providing for the comfort and usefulness of those who are dependent on us; all follow in a regular train the employment of our faculties in the business for which they were designed. All these the lazy man relinquishes for the privilege of setting in his chair, lolling on his bed, and lounging in taverns.

Nor is he less an enemy to his reputation. Laziness is so contemptible a character, and sinks a man down so near to the verge of nihility, that it is despised by every eye, and reproached by every tongue. Contempt snuffs it as his proper prey; and infamy follows it unceasingly with her hiss and her sting. But a good name is better than great riches; and loving favour than silver and gold." Disgrace on the other hand is probably felt by mankind as the last evil, usually suffered in the present world.

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Equally is he an enemy to his usefulness. To be useful is in every sense a blessing, of high moment. The most melancholy lamentation of an old man is, "I am good for nothing." But the slothful is voluntarily good for nothing throughout life. His usefulness is all given up of design: and he will not suffer himself to be useful, even in his own person, and by his own faculties. Influence, the great source of our usefulnes, where others are to be persuaded and engaged, he has not, and cannot have. All influence is acquired by reputation: but of this he has deprived himself. His wishes therefore, and his plans, will only be opposed, and despised, by others.

Finally he is an enemy to his soul. "Therefore," says St. James, "to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin." In this manner the whole life of a lazy man is passed. Much good, which he perfectly well knows, is every day left by him undone. Day by day, therefore, he accumulates sins from morning to night. How vast, then, must be their num

ber; how incomprehensible their amount! It is hardly necessary to observe that these sins are the most fatal enemies of the soul. 2dly. The slothful man is useless to Mankind.,

My observations on this subject must in a great measure be anticipated by my audience. He, who is not useful to himself, will never be useful to others. He, who is a nuisance to himself, will be a nuisance to mankind. The lazy man must, if he lives, be indebted to the labour of others for the food and raiment, the fuel and lodging, on which he lives. Others must toil for every enjoyment, which he partakes: and he is a mere load upon their shoulders. At the same time he is a nuisance by his example, and by his wickedness. A lazy man makes others lazy; as a drunken man makes others drunkards. Around him gather, of course, those who are like him; or those who speedily assume the same character. Talkers, drones, incapable of managing their own business, and meddling perpetually with that of others; loungers in shops, and market places; politicians, perfectly capable of guiding the wheels of government: each wiser, in his own conceit, than seven men, who can render a reason: stains upon the character of man, and a smoke in the nostrils of JEHOVAH.

On each of these poverty shall come, with the speed of one that travelleth; and want as an armed man. His end in this world is commonly the Alms-house or Bridewell, the jail or the gibbet; and in the world to come that outer darkness, into which every unprofitable servant will be cast, and in which there is perpetual weeping, and gnashing of teeth.

I will now proceed, my young friends, to apply this subject to your own circumstances.

The general nature of sloth I have unfolded to you succinctly; but your circumstances differ so widely from those of most others, that, in order to make my observations of any material use to you, it will be desirable, if not absolutely necessary, that the case should be directly and particularly made your own. This, therefore, I will now attempt.

Sloth in this Seminary of learning is directed, as it is elsewhere, into different channels. I will attempt briefly to follow it in some of its most obvious and distinguished courses.

A number of those, who find admission into these walls, in some degree varying at different times, have an original disrelish to study, and a ruling propensity to the active business of life. These youths take up their books originally and solely, in obedience to the wishes and injunctions of their parents, and in opposition to the strong bent of their own nature. Those parental wishes, which send them hither, are in my view unwise and unhappy. Few, very few of the children who possess this character, will ever become scholars. The strength of natural propensity in this case almost always prevails. The intentions of the parents, indeed, are in the highest degree commendable: for they evidently design to dispose of their children in the manner most beneficial to them. Their disrelish to study, and their attachment to active life, they hope by persevering opposition to overcome. But they almost always hope in vain: for after all their labours the child passes through the successive periods of his education, with no more of learning or of science, than that which adheres to him, merely because he is where it is; because he has eyes and ears, and is compelled by irresistible necessity to see and hear something of what is passing before these senses.

Those of you, who possess this character, I consider as the least censurable among the idle members of this institution. In some measure you are certainly to be pitied; because your continuance here is a struggle against the stiff bent of nature; a violence done to your constitutional inclinations. Were my own advice to be followed; every such person would speedily take a dismission, if his parents' consent could be obtained; betake himself to business, better suited to his inclinations; and no longer struggle in vain against a propensity plainly too powerful to be

overcome.

But let me remind all persons of this character, that they are not merely to be pitied, but are also to be severely censured. Such of you, as have been sent hither in these circumstances, ought ever to remember that you were sent hither by your parents; that they had an absolute right to dispose of you in this manner, that you are bound by the authority of GOD to submit