"My friends, my children, and fellow-sufferers, when I reflect on the distribution of good and evil here below, I find that much
has been given man to enjoy, yet still more to suffer. Though we should examine the whole world, we shall not find one man so
happy as to have nothing left to wish for; but we daily see thousands who by suicide show us they have nothing left to hope. In
this life, then, it appears that we cannot be entirely blessed; but yet we may be completely 'miserable.

   "Why man should thus feel pain, why our wretchedness should be requisite in the formation of universal felicity; why, when all
other systems are made perfect by the perfection of their subordinate parts, the great system should require for its perfection
parts that are not only subordinate to others, but imperfect in themselves; these are questions that never can be explained, and
might be useless if known. On this subject

Providence has thought fit to elude our curiosity, satisfied with granting us motives to consolation.

   "In this situation, man has called in the friendly assistance of philosophy; and Heaven, seeing the incapacity of that to console
him, has given him the aid of religion. The consolations of philosophy are very amusing, but often fallacious. It tells us that life is
filled with comforts if we will but enjoy them; and, on the other hand, though we unavoidably have miseries here, life is short,
and they will soon be over. Thus do these consolations destroy each other; for if life is a place of comfort, its shortness must be
misery; and if it be long, our griefs are protracted. Thus philosophy is weak; but religion comforts in a higher strain. Man is here,
it tells us, fitting up his mind and preparing it for another abode. When the good man leaves the body, and is all a glorious mind,
he will find he has been making himself a heaven of happiness here; while the wretch that has been maimed and contaminated
by his vices, shrinks from his body with terror, and finds that he has anticipated the vengeance of Heaven. To religion, then, we
must hold, in every circumstance of life, for our truest comfort; for if already we are happy, it is a pleasure to think we can
make that happiness unending; and if we are miserable, it is very consoling to think that there is a place of rest. Thus to the
fortunate, religion holds out a continuance of bliss; to the wretched, a change from pain.

   "But though religion is very kind to all men, it has promised peculiar rewards to the unhappy; the sick, the naked, the
houseless, the heavy-laden, and the prisoner, have ever most frequent promises in our sacred law. The Author of our religion
everywhere professes himself the wretch's friend, and, unlike the false ones of this world, bestows all his caresses upon the
forlorn. The unthinking have censured this as partiality, as a preference without merit to deserve it. But they never reflect that it
is not in the power even of Heaven itself to make the offer of unceasing felicity as great a gift to the happy as to the miserable.
To the first, eternity is but a single blessing, since, at most, it but increases what they already possess. To the latter, it is a
double advantage; for it diminishes their pain here, and rewards them with heavenly bliss hereafter.

   "But Providence is in another respect kinder to the poor than the rich; for as it thus makes the life after death more desirable,
so it smooths the passage there. The wretched have had a long familiarity with every face of terror. The man of sorrows lays
himself quietly down, without possessions to regret, and but few ties to stop his departure; he feels only nature's pang in the final
separation, and this in no way greater than he has often fainted under before; for, after a certain degree of pain, every new
breach that death

opens in the constitution, nature kindly covers with insensibility.

   "Thus Providence has given the wretched two advantages over the happy in this life: greater felicity in dying, and in Heaven all
that superiority of pleasure which arises from contrasted enjoyment. And this superiority, my friends, is no small advantage, and
seems to be one of the pleasures of the poor man in the parable; for though he was already in heaven, and felt all the raptures it
could give, yet it was mentioned as an addition to his happiness, that he once had been wretched, and now was comforted; that
he had known what it was to be miserable, and now felt what it was to be happy.

   "Thus, my friends, you see religion does what philosophy could never do; it shows the equal dealings of Heaven to the happy
and the unhappy, and levels all human enjoyments to nearly the same standard. It gives to both rich and poor the same
happiness hereafter, and equal hopes to aspire after it; but if the rich have the advantage of enjoying pleasure here, the poor
have the endless satisfaction of knowing what it was once to be miserable, when crowned with endless felicity hereafter; and
even though this should be called a small advantage, yet being an eternal one, it must make up by duration what the temporal
happiness of the great may have exceeded by intenseness.

   "These are, therefore, the consolations which the

wretched have peculiar to themselves, and in which they are above the rest of mankind; in other respects they are below them.
They who would know the miseries of the poor, must see life and endure it. To declaim on the temporal advantages they enjoy,
is only repeating what none other either believe or practice. The men who have the necessaries of living are not poor, and they
who want them must be miserable. Yes, my friends, we must be miserable. No vain efforts of a refined imagination can soothe
the wants of nature, can give elastic sweetness to the dank vapor of a dungeon, or ease to the throbbings of a broken heart! Let
the philosopher from his couch of softness tell us that we can resist all these. Alas! the effort by which we resist them is still the
greatest pain.

   "Death is slight, and any man may sustain it; but torments are dreadful, and these no man can endure.

   "To us, then, my friends, the promises of happiness in Heaven should be particularly dear; for if our reward be in this life
alone, we are then indeed, of all men the most miserable. When I look round these gloomy walls, made to terrify, as well as to
confine us; this light that only serves to show the horrors of the place, those shackles that tyranny has imposed, or crime made
necessary; when I survey these emaciated looks, and hear those groans, oh, my friends, what a glorious exchange would
heaven be for these! To fly through regions unconfined as air, to bask in the sunshine of

eternal bliss, to carol over endless hymns of praise, to have no master to threaten or insult us, but the form of Goodness himself
forever in our eyes; when I think of these things, Death becomes the messenger of very glad tidings; when I think of these
things, his sharpest arrows become the staff of my support; when I think of these things, what is there in life worth having? when
I think of these things, what is there that should not be spurned away? Kings in their palaces should groan for such advantages;
but we, humbled as we are, should yearn for them.

   "And shall these things be ours? Ours they will certainly be if we but try for them; and, what is a comfort, we are shut out
from many temptations that would retard our pursuit. Only let us try for them and they will certainly be ours, and, what is still a
comfort, shortly too; for if we look back on a past life it appears but a very short span, and whatever we may think of the rest
of life, it will yet be found of less duration; as we grow older the days seem to grow shorter, and our intimacy with Time ever
lessens the perception of his stay. Then let us take comfort now, for we shall soon be at our journey's end; we shall soon lay
down the heavy burthen laid by Heaven upon us; and though Death, the only friend of the wretched, for a little while mocks the
weary traveller with the view, and like his horizon still flies before him, yet the time will certainly and shortly come when

we shall cease from our toil; when the luxuriant great ones of the world shall no more tread us to the earth; when we shall think
with pleasure of our sufferings below; when we shall be surrounded with all our friends, or such as deserved our friendship;
when our bliss shall be unutterable, and still, to crown all, unending."