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That this love by which a pious mind is united to its Creator, is a source of the purest pleasures, we now proceed to shew, not solely on the authorities of scripture, but by the force of reason and common

sense.

The man who loves God, enjoys that first of felicities, the consciousness of having placed his affections on the only object in the universe that truly deserves them. Our love is the most precious thing we possess; it is indeed the only thing we can properly call our own, and therefore to bestow it unworthily, is the greatest shame and sorest mistake that we can ever commit. A man must needs be infinitely mortified and troubled, when he finds that the object of his love possesses not that excellence which he fondly expected would satisfy his wishes. and make him completely happy. Alas! What is a little skin deep beauty, a few flashes of wit, or some small degrees of

goodness? We soon see to the bottom of such shallow goods, and consequently must experience a decay of that admiration and affection which constitutes happiness in the first degree. But to no such mortifying disappointment is he liable, who directs his love to God. In him the enlightened eye of true philosophy discovers so much of all that is great and good, as to keep the happy mind in an eternal extacy of admiration and love.

Divine love advances the happiness of man, because it tends, above all other attachments, to refine and ennoble his nature. The most inattentive must have observed, that love has a surprising force to give our manners a resemblance to those of the person we love. Seen through the eyes of a tender affection, even blemishes appear like beauties, and heaven born virtue puts on charms more than human. No wonder then that we

so easily adopt the sentiments, and imitate the manners of those we love. This is a conduct so natural and common, that to tell the character of any man, we need but be told that of the person's he loves.

Hence, the anxious parent rejoices to see his child fond of the society of the virtuous and wise: he knows that such an attachment indicates a relish for virtue, and promises an honourable and happy event: while, on the other hand, he deplores his attachment to the vain and vicious, as a sad, but certain presage of folly and depravity.

Certainly then, in order to be happy, it most nearly concerns us to direct our love to the proper object. But who, or what is that object? The creatures all have their imperfections. They are all utterly unworthy, and beneath the supreme love of an immortal mind. And to love these in the extreme, is

infinitely to demean ourselves, to disgrace our understandings, to contract low earthly passions, and consequently to make ourselves miserable. Would we do honour to our reason, would we dignify our affections, ennoble our nature, and rise to true happiness, let us give our hearts to God. The man who loves God is animated with an ambition becoming the dignity of his birth; he is inspired with a greatness of soul that spurns all grovelling passions and base designs. The love which he has for God impells him, by a sweet and powerful influence, to imitate his alllovely and adorable perfections, and consequently renders him every day a more divine and heavenly creature.

God is the only worthy object of our love, because he is the only one who will certainly and generously reward it. Love, as we have observed, was design. ed to be the spring of joy, but, alas!

when placed on the creature, it often proves a source of sorrow, because it is too often treated with ingratitude and neglect. The lover in giving his heart, gives his all; and, if after so great a sacrifice, he cannot obtain the fond return he coveted, what can be expected but that he should sicken with grief, and sink under an oppressive load of melancholy? But though our fellow worms should reject our love with disdain, yet it is always O! adorable goodness! it is always acceptable to God. Amidst the adorations of millions of glorious angels, he graciously observes the attentions we pay him, and receives with complacency our smallest tribute of affection. He knows that the souls which he has made cannot be happy until they return to him. Unceasingly he calls.

to them,

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"Seek ye my face." And if, convinced by a thousand disappointments,

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