In the third and last place, he informs him, that the best methods he could make use of to draw down blessings upon himself, and to render his prayers acceptable, would be to live in a constant practice of his duty towards the gods and towards men. Under this head he very much recommends a form of a prayer the Lacedemonians made use of, in which they petition the gods "to give them all good things, so long as they were virtuous.". Under this head likewise he gives a very remarkable account of an oracle to the following purpose.

When the Athenians, in the war with the Lacedemonians, received many defeats both by sea and land, they sent a message to the oracle of Jupiter Ammon, to ask the reason why they, who erected so many temples to the gods, and adorned them with such costly offerings; why they, who had instituted so many festivals, and accompanied them with such pomps and ceremonies; in short, why they, who had slain so many hecatombs at their altars, should be less successful than the Lacedemonians, who fell so short of them in all these particulars. To this, says he, the oracle made the following reply: "I am better pleased with the prayer of the Lacedemonians, than with all the oblations of the Greeks." As this prayer implied and encouraged virtue in those who made it, the philosopher proceeds to shew how the most vicious man might be devout, so far as victims could make him; but that his offerings were regarded by the gods as bribes, and his petitions as blasphemies. He likewise quotes, on this occasion, two verses out of Homer, in which the poet says, that the scent of the Trojan sacrifices was carried up to heaven by the winds; but that it was not acceptable to the gods, who were displeased with Priam and all his people.

The conclusion of this dialogue is very remarkable. Socrates having deterred Alcibiades from the prayers

and sacrifice he was going to offer, by setting forth the above-mentioned difficulties of performing that duty as he ought, adds these words: "We must therefore wait till such time as we may learn how we ought to behave ourselves towards the gods and towards men." But when will that time come, says Alcibiades, and who is it that will instruct us? for I would fain see this man, whoever he is. It is one, says Socrates, who takes care of you; but as Homer tells us that Minerva removed the mist from Diomedes's eyes, that he might plainly discover both gods and men, so the darkness that hangs upon your mind must be removed, before you are able to discern what is good and what is evil. Let him remove from my mind, says Alcibiades, the darkness, and what else he pleases; I am determined to refuse nothing he shall order me, whoever he is, so that I may become the better man by it. The remaining part of this dialogue is very obscure: there is something in it that would make us think Socrates hinted at himself, when he spoke of this Divine Teacher who was to come into the world, did he not own, that he himself was in this respect as much at a loss, and in as great distress, as the rest of mankind.

Some learned men look upon this conclusion as a prediction of our Saviour; or at least that Socrates, like the High-priest, prophesied unknowingly, and pointed at that Divine Teacher who was to come into the world some ages after him. However that may be, we find that this great philosopher saw, by the light of reason, that it was suitable to the goodness of the Divine nature to send a person into the world who should instruct mankind in the duties of religion, and, in particular, teach them how to pray.

Whoever reads this abstract of Plato's discourse on prayer, will, I believe, naturally make this reflection: that the great Founder of our religion, as

well by his own example, as in the form of prayer which he taught his disciples, did not only keep up to those rules which the light of nature had suggested to this great philosopher, but instructed his disciples in the whole extent of this duty, as well as of all others. He directed them to the proper object of adoration, and taught them, according to the third rule above mentioned, to apply themselves to Him in their closets, without shew or ostentation, and to worship Him in spirit and in truth. As the Lacedemonians, in their form of prayer, implored the gods in general to give them all good things so long as they were virtuous, we ask in particular "that our offences may be forgiven us, as we forgive those of others." If we look into the second rule which Socrates has prescribed,namely, that we should apply ourselves to the knowledge of such things as are best for us,-this too is explained at large in the doctrines of the Gospel, where we are taught in several instances to regard those things as curses, which appear as blessings in the eye of the world; and, on the contrary, to esteem those things as blessings, which to the generality of mankind appear as curses. Thus, in the form which is prescribed to us, we only pray for that happiness which is our chief good, and the great end of our existence, when we petition the Supreme Being for "the coming of his kingdom," being solicitous for no other temporal blessing but our daily sustenance. On the other side, we pray against nothing but sin, and against evil in general, leaving it with Omniscience to determine what is really such. If we look into the first of Socrates's rules of prayer, in which he recommends the above-mentioned form of the ancient poet, we find that form not only comprehended, but very much improved, in the petition wherein we pray to the Supreme Being that "his will may be done:" which is of the same force with that form which our Saviour used,

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when he prayed against the most painful and most ignominious of deaths, "Nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done." This comprehensive petition is the most humble, as well as the most prudent, that can be offered up from the creature to its Creator, as it supposes the Supreme Being wills nothing but what is for our good, and that he knows better than ourselves what is so. L.

-Nequeo monstrare, et sentio tantum.

Juv. Sat, VII. 1. 56.

'Tis what I only feel, but can't express.

If there were no other consequence of it, but barely that human creatures on this day assemble them. selves before their Creator, without regard to their usual employments; their minds at leisure from the cares of this life, and their bodies adorned with the best attire they can bestow on them; I say, were this mere outward celebration of a Sabbath all that is expected from men, even that were a laudable distinction, and a purpose worthy the human nature. But when there is added to it the sublime pleasure of devotion, our being is exalted above itself; and he who spends a seventh day in the contemplation of the next life, will not easily fall into the corruptions of this in the other six. They who never admit thoughts of this kind into their imaginations, lose higher and sweeter satisfactions than can be raised by any other entertainment. The most illiterate man, who is touched with devotion, and uses frequent exercises of it, contracts a certain greatness of mind, mingled with a noble simplicity, that raises him above those of the same condition; and there is an indelible mark of goodness in those who sincerely possess it. It is hardly possible it should be otherwise; for the fervours of a pious mind will naturally contract such an earnestness and attention towards a better being, as

will make the ordinary passages of life go off with a becoming indifference. By this a man in the lowest condition will not appear mean, or in the most splendid fortune insolent.

As to all the intricacies and vicissitudes under which men are ordinarily entangled with the utmost sorrow and passion, one who is devoted to Heaven, when he falls into such difficulties, is led by a clue through a labyrinth. As to this world, he does not pretend to skill in the mazes of it, but fixes his thoughts upon one certainty,—that he shall soon be out of it. And we may ask very boldly, what can be a more sure consolation than to have a hope in death? When men are arrived at thinking of their very dissolution with pleasure, how few things are there that can be terrible to them! Certainly, nothing can be dreadful to such spirits but what would make death terrible to them,-falsehood towards man, or impiety towards Heaven. To such as these, as there are certainly many such, the gratifications of innocent pleasures are doubled, even with reflections upon their imperfection. The disappointments which naturally attend the great promises we make ourselves in expected enjoyments, strike no damp upon such men, but only quicken their hopes of soon knowing joys, which are too pure to admit of allay or satiety.

It is thought, among the politer sort of mankind, an imperfection to want a relish of any of those things which refine our lives. This is the foundation of the acceptance which eloquence, music, and poetry, make in the world; and I know not why devotion, considered merely as an exaltation of our happiness, should not at least be so far regarded as to be considered. It is possible the very inquiry would lead men into such thoughts and gratifications as they did not expect to meet with in this place. Many a good acquaintance has