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 A SHORT MEMOIR 
 
 CLEMENTINE CUVIER, 
 
 DAUGHTER OF BARON CUVIER J 
 V v OF THE r 
 
 _j ECT, 7 '% ' 
 
 BY JOHN Atf*G&LL JAMES. 
 
 11 The gra*3s withereth, the flower fadeth, but the Word of 
 our God shall stand for ever." 
 
 NEW- YORK : 
 D. APPLETON & CO., 
 
 200, BROADWAY. 
 
 1 83 3. 
 

 2« 
 
 g/^ 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 
 HENRY LTJDWIG, PRINTER, 
 Corner of Greenwich and Vesey-sts. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 My Dear S. A. 
 
 You cannot have forgotten, that during 
 one of those seasons of severe illness, with 
 which it is the will of our Heavenly Father 
 so often to afflict you, I selected for your 
 perusal, the short but exquisitely beautiful 
 memoir of Clementine Cuvier, drawn up ' 
 by the Rev. Mark Wilks, and inserted 
 in the Evangelical Magazine, for Febru- 
 ary, 1 828. You professed to admire her 
 character, and wished to resemble her. 
 Siich a desire was commendable, and both 
 on your part and on mine, ought to be assi- 
 duously cherished. I determined, there- 
 fore, to present to you the narrative, accom- 
 panied by a short account of her illustrious 
 
4 DEDICATION. 
 
 father, and some reflections suggested by 
 her early removal from the brilliant scenes 
 by which she was surrounded, and the 
 bright prospects which expanded before 
 her. Although I dedicate this book in 
 an especial manner to you, I design it of 
 course, for general circulation, and for that 
 reason, have adopted a form of address suited 
 to young persons of your own sex. 
 
 You were not born to the prospects and 
 the hopes of Clementine Cuvier, nor like 
 her have you been called to see their grow- 
 ing brightness suddenly obscured by the 
 fogs that rise from the dark valley of the 
 shadow of death ; but the scenes of opening 
 life have for you been shaded by the clouds 
 of personal affliction. May you learn more 
 impressively than ever, from this touching 
 narrative, to what source to apply for con- 
 solation, and in what manner to obtain it. 
 "It is good," said the prophet, " for a man 
 
DEDICATION. D 
 
 to bear the yoke in his youth," and the 
 sentiment has been confirmed by the expe- 
 rience of multitudes of young persons of 
 both sexes ; who, to the surprise of their 
 gay companions, have uttered amidst the 
 scenes of their sorrow, the following strange 
 and grateful testimony : — 
 
 Father, I bless thy gentle hand j 
 How kind was thy chastising rod, 
 That forced my conscience to a stand, 
 And brought my wand'ring soul to God ! 
 Foolish and vain, I went astray ; 
 Ere I had felt thy scourges, Lord, 
 I left my guide and lost my way j 
 But now I love and keep thy word. 
 'T is good for me to wear the yoke, 
 For pride is apt to rise and swell ; 
 »T is good to bear my Father's stroke, 
 That I might learn his statutes well. 
 
 Youth is a time eminently favourable to 
 the cultivation and enjoyment of religion ; 
 the body is then vigorous, the mind lively, 
 
6 DEDICATION. 
 
 the time at command, the spirit unoppress- 
 ed with the rude cares of life, and the 
 heart not bowed or broken with the sorrows 
 of this world. Halcyon season ! did the 
 young know it. But, alas ! they do not 
 consider this, and instead of remembering 
 their Creator in the days of their youth, 
 they put off the consideration of piety to 
 the uncertain hereafter. Their temptations 
 I admit, are many. Youth is the vernal 
 season of existence, and it is the first and 
 only spring of its kind they will ever spend. 
 The whole scene is covered with " living 
 green," and adorned with blossoms of 
 hope. Every thing has the freshness and 
 charm of novelty. They roam onwards, 
 pleased with the present, and still more at- 
 tracted by the dim visions of the future ; 
 and thus, my dear S. A., the character is 
 too generally formed by the plastic influence 
 of things seen and temporal, and formed 
 exclusively for an earthly existence, while 
 
DEDICATION. 7 
 
 things unseen and eternal are left out of 
 view, and God is not in all their thoughts. 
 Hence, Jehovah, in great mercy, sometimes 
 darkens the whole scene by affliction, that 
 in the bitterness of disappointment they 
 may turn from the vain shadows of the 
 world, to the substantial realities of religion. 
 How. many have been plucked from the 
 vortex of earthly pleasure, by the severe but 
 merciful hand of a chastising God, and 
 have not only made it their confession on 
 earth, but the theme of their song in hea- 
 ven, — " It is good for me that I ivas 
 afflicted" 
 
 God is love, and since he has placed our 
 world, through the mediation of his Son, 
 under a dispensation of mercy, the suffer- 
 ings of the children of men are rather 
 disciplinary than penal. "He does not af- 
 flict willingly, nor grieve the children of 
 men." His language that accompanies 
 
8 DEDICATI ON. 
 
 every affliction is this, " I spake unto thee 
 in thy prosperity ; but thou saidst, I will 
 not hear ; this hath been thy manner from 
 thy youth, that thou obeyedst not my 
 voice ; now hear ye the rod, and who hath 
 appointed it." God hath told us in a few 
 words, the secret of all the sorrows which he 
 calls us to endure on earth ; "He chasten- 
 eth us for our profit, that we might be par- 
 takers of his holiness" We cannot ima- 
 gine that the bitter disappointments and 
 deep sorrows of the following narrative, 
 could have been inflicted by a God that 
 delighteth in mercy, but with some merci- 
 ful design. Seek, then, my dear S. A. 
 that in reference to your own trials, you 
 may be of one mind with God in sending 
 them ; and you know what that is, that 
 you might be a partaker of his holiness. 
 An affliction sanctified, is better, said an 
 old divine, than an affliction removed ; and 
 the first proof of a sanctified affliction, is an 
 
DEDICATION. 9 
 
 earnest and prayerful solicitude that it 
 might be sanctified. In that precious volume, 
 which is at once our pillar of cloud by day 
 and of fire by night, our brightest sun in 
 prosperity, and our only lamp in the dark 
 chamber of sickness, it is said " they that 
 sow in tears shall reap in joy." The drops 
 of sanctified sorrow on earth, are the seeds 
 of immortal joys in the heavenly world. 
 11 Our light affliction, which is but for a 
 moment, worketh out for us a far more ex- 
 ceeding and eternal weight of glory." 
 
 To that glory Clementine Cuvier has 
 departed ; and do think what heaven must 
 be, where there are millions similar to her. 
 What would earth be if its inhabitants 
 were all as holy, as humane, as intelligent, 
 as she was ? but the least in the kingdom 
 of heaven is far greater than she was here 
 below. O, who ought to cling to this 
 world, or should be reluctant to leave it, 
 when such a community, gathered around 
 
10 DEDICATION. 
 
 the throne of God and the Lamb, beckon 
 us away to their sublime, their perfect, 
 their everlasting fellowship. May all your 
 sufferings, by the grace of God, be the 
 means of preparing you for that society, 
 and then will you confess that you have 
 not had one too many. That this may be 
 the case, is the prayer of 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 J. A. J. 
 
-!B/?4 
 
 ■BSITY; 
 
 MEMOIR OF BARON CUVIER. 
 
 Baron Cuvier, the father of the subject 
 of the following memoir, was a Protestant 
 Peer of France, who, by the force of genius, 
 diligence, and virtue, rose from a compa- 
 ratively obscure origin, to be one of the 
 most distinguished men of modern times. 
 He combined, as he ascended in life, the 
 seemingly incompatible characters of a 
 profound philosopher and an active states- 
 man. Such were the powers of his mind, 
 and so great was the versatility of his ge- 
 nius, that in whatever situation he was 
 placed, his superiority was soon acknow- 
 ledged by his associates and competitors. 
 His greatest celebrity was derived from 
 his extensive researches, valuable discove- 
 ries, and immortal works in the department 
 
12 MEMOIR OP 
 
 of natural history, comparative anatomy, 
 and especially in the subject of fossil geo- 
 logy. As a statesman, it is a striking 
 proof of his abilities and his moderation, 
 and some think of his somewhat too great 
 flexibility of politics, that he made himself 
 acceptable to the despotic Napoleon, to the 
 weak and bigoted Bourbons, and the liberal 
 government of Louis Philippe; by all of 
 whom he was engaged in official functions 
 for his country. " Those who have known 
 this great man," says a writer in the Edin- 
 burgh Review, "and have followed him 
 through his brilliant and diversified career, 
 will not charge us with overstrained pane- 
 gyric, when we say that in all the lists of 
 fame which we have enumerated, he not 
 only attained a pre-eminent distinction, but 
 acquired a reputation in each, which might 
 have gratified the ambition of any common 
 aspirant for fame. 
 
 " In the splendid museum of natural his- 
 
BARON CUVIER. 13 
 
 tory and comparative anatomy, which he 
 almost created, we shall see him in the 
 character of an indefatigable collector, a 
 judicious classifier, and a skilful anatomist. 
 As a lecturer on the same subject in the 
 Jardin des Plantes, and in the College of 
 France, he shone as a successful teacher, 
 and enchanted crowded audiences by the 
 magic of his eloquence. As a secretary to 
 the Institute, he acquired by his Eloges the 
 reputation of the most learned, and elo- 
 quent, and powerful writer of his day. As 
 a systematic author, his unwearied research, 
 his lucid arrangement, and his pleasing, 
 perspicuous, and nervous style, placed 
 him above the philosophical naturalists of 
 every age. As an original inquirer, his 
 discoveries in fossil geology have raised 
 him to the highest distinction, and given 
 birth to new trains of research which are 
 fast disclosing to us the structure of our 
 planet, and the nature of the convulsions 
 
14 MEMOIR OF 
 
 with which it has been so often shaken. 
 As Minister of Public Instruction, as Chan- 
 cellor of the University, and Inspector 
 General of Education, he conferred on the 
 colleges of France and on her schools, on 
 her religious and charitable establishments, 
 the richest and most enduring benefits: and 
 as a statesman charged with high legisla- 
 tive functions, he obtained for the French 
 people many valuable ameliorations of 
 their laws, and many solid improvements 
 in their political institutions. 
 
 "In 1818, Cuvier was elected a mem- 
 ber of the French Academy, an honour 
 which he owed to the eloquent Eloges he 
 had read in the Institute ; and in the same 
 year he was offered the ministry of the In- 
 terior, but upon political considerations, to 
 which he could not accede. In 1819, he 
 was appointed President of the C omit 6 de 
 VInterieur, belonging to the Council of 
 State, and he was soon after created a Ba- 
 
BARON CUVIER. 15 
 
 ron by Louis xviii., who repeatedly sum- 
 moned him to assist in the Cabinet Coun- 
 cils. He was appointed in 1822, Grand 
 Master of the Faculties of Protestant The- 
 ology in the University ; and in the Com- 
 mittee of the Interior, he was soon after- 
 wards charged with the management of the 
 affairs of all the different religions in 
 France, except the Catholic. At the Co- 
 ronation of Charles x. he officiated as one 
 of the Presidents of the Council of State, 
 and in 1836, he received the decoration of 
 Grand Officer of the Legion of Honour. 
 
 " These and other trophies of distinction 
 which now almost overburthened him, were 
 far from being a suitable preparation for 
 the heavy blow which was about to strike 
 him at the heart. His only daughter, 
 Clementine Cuvier, now his only child, 
 after surmounting the dangers of a sickly 
 infancy, had been reinstated in the bloom 
 of health, and had reached the winter of 
 
10 MEMOIR OF 
 
 her twenty-second year. Her acquire- 
 ments in profound studies were adorned 
 with every accomplishment of her sex ; and 
 she united in a singular degree, all the 
 charms of physical, intellectual, and moral 
 beauty. The loveliness of her person, and 
 the elegance of her manners, were enchased 
 in the fine gold of an ardent yet humble 
 piety, and encircled with all the graces of 
 a charitable and sympathizing spirit ; and 
 amid the universal admiration which such 
 a character commanded, she courted and 
 she earned, the blessings of the poor, the 
 ignorant, and the afflicted. About the 
 close of 1826, the first symptoms of a fatal 
 disease showed themselves in her delicate 
 constitution. Her health, however, was so 
 completely re-established, that in the be- 
 ginning of 1828, arrangements were made 
 for her marriage with an individual of her 
 own choice, who was in every respect 
 worthy of her love. The ceremony was 
 
BARON CU VIE R. 17 
 
 fixed for the 25th of August ; but before 
 the end of July her former disease return- 
 ed with redoubled force, and terminated 
 fatally on the 28th of September. Her 
 parents were overwhelmed^with grief, and 
 her bridal chaplet withering in the embrace 
 of her funeral wreath, was to one discon- 
 solate heart an image of still greater ago- 
 ny. Distracted with his loss, Cuvier 
 sought and found in the most absorbing 
 studies, some alleviation of his sorrows ; 
 but though with this view he enforced up- 
 on himself the most intense and continued 
 labour, yet on the occasion of his first dis- 
 charge of a public duty, when this high 
 pressure of his mental power was for a 
 time removed, his feelings burst forth in un- 
 controllable grief. It has been related by 
 an eye-witness, says Mrs. Lee, his memo- 
 rialist, that at the first sitting of the Comite 
 de VInterieur, at which he presided after 
 this event, and from which he absented 
 2 
 
18 MEMOIR OF 
 
 himself two months, he resumed the chair 
 with a firm and placid expression of coun- 
 tenance ; he listened attentively to all the 
 discussions of those present; but when it 
 became his turn to speak, and sum up all 
 that had passed, his firmness abandoned 
 him, and his first words were interrupted 
 by tears. The great legislator gave way 
 to the bereaved father ; he bowed his head, 
 covered his face with his hands, and was 
 heard to sob bitterly. A respectful and 
 profound silence reigned through the 
 whole assembly ; all present had known 
 Clementine, and therefore all could under- 
 stand and excuse this deep emotion. At 
 length Cuvier raised his head, and uttered 
 these few simple words — "Pardon me, 
 gentlemen, I ivas a father, and I have lost 
 all." Then, with a violent effort, he re- 
 sumed the business of the day with his 
 usual perspicuity, and pronounced judg- 
 
BARON CUVIER. 19 
 
 ment with his ordinary calmness and jus- 
 tice." 
 
 Cuvier lived at the Jardin des Plantes 
 for nearly forty years, surrounded by the 
 objects which engrossed so great a portion 
 of his thoughts, and there received every 
 Saturday the men of science of Paris, and 
 all others who visited that Capital from 
 any part of the world. Professors and 
 pupils met in his rooms to listen with in- 
 struction and delight to his conversation, 
 for he was accessible to all. Although 
 compelled to be a very rigid economist of 
 his time, he was so good-natured and con- 
 siderate, that if any person who had busi- 
 ness to transact with him, called at an un- 
 expected hour, he never sent him away, 
 saying that one who lived so far off had no 
 right to deny himself. 
 
 But I advance to the closing scene, 
 which in all probability was accelerated 
 by the withering influence of secret grief 
 
20 MEMOIR OF 
 
 for Clementine's death, which, though di- 
 verted by private study and public busi- 
 ness, could not be suppressed. The best 
 account of his death is found in Baron Pas- 
 quier's Eloge. " On the 18th of May, he 
 opened, in the College of France, the 
 course which he had continued for three 
 years with so much success, on the history 
 of the Natural Sciences. Those who 
 were present at the last lecture of this 
 great master, retain an impression which 
 can never be imparted to such as have not 
 experienced it, and of which I can convey 
 but a very feeble notion. Seldom had he 
 risen to such an elevation ; but his auditors 
 were particularly struck with the last 
 phrase which he used, to express his in- 
 tention of taking a view of the actual state 
 of the study of creation — that sublime 
 study, which, while it enlightens and 
 strengthens the human mind, ought to pre- 
 serve it from the deceptive habit of regard- 
 
BARON CUVIER. 21 
 
 ing things apart from their relation to each 
 other, and distorting them, that they may- 
 be subjected to the laws of a system ; 
 which ought, in short, to lead the thoughts 
 incessantly to that Supreme Intelligence, 
 who governs, enlightens, and vivifies all — 
 who reveals all things, and whom all 
 things reveal. 
 
 " At this part of his lecture he displayed 
 a calmness and justness of perception, com- 
 bined with a depth and seriousness of 
 thought, which led his auditors to think of 
 that Book which speaks of the creation to 
 all mankind. This was the result of his 
 ideas rather than his expressions, for every 
 thing in the free exposition which he made, 
 breathed the feeling of the omnipotence of 
 a supreme cause, and of an infinite wisdom. 
 He seemed, as it were, by the examination 
 of the visible world, to be led to the pre- 
 cincts of that which is invisible, and the 
 examination of the creature evoked the 
 
22 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Creator. At last these words fell from 
 him, in which it is easy to see a presenti- 
 ment ; — ' Such, gentlemen, will be the ob- 
 ject of our investigation, if time, my own 
 strength, and the state of my health, permit 
 me to continue and finish them.' The 
 closing scene of M. Cuvier's life as a pub- 
 lic teacher appears to me to have been im- 
 pressed with peculiar beauty. Who could 
 fail to be deeply affected at the last accents 
 of so pure an intelligence, disengaged from 
 the vanities and the interests of systems 1 
 Who could remain cold and insensible be- 
 fore the last look thrown on creation by 
 him who had revealed so many of its mys- 
 teries % Who could resist the feeling ex- 
 cited by the view of science revealing eter- 
 nal wisdom ? How noble, how affecting, 
 and how prophetic! So soon to appear 
 before the supreme tribunal, what convic- 
 tion could he express, what words could he 
 pronounce which would have formed a 
 
BARON CUVIER. 23 
 
 more suitable preparation ? After this lec- 
 ture, the first symptoms appeared of the 
 disorder, which in less than eight days 
 brought him to the grave. He presided, 
 notwithstanding, on the following day, at 
 the Committee of the Interior. Soon, how- 
 ever, paralysis of a peculiar kind, destroy- 
 ed in succession the nerves that produce 
 voluntary motion, leaving uninjured those 
 which form the seat of sensation ; the 
 members affected thus became completely 
 inert, and yet retained their sensibility; 
 All the assistance of art, lavished upon 
 him by men of the greatest skill, was in- 
 effectual, and it soon became apparent that 
 his end was drawing near. 
 
 " Every one knew with what courage 
 and serenity he saw it approach. The un- 
 remitting care and attention which were 
 bestowed on him affected him deeply, but 
 did hot diminish his courage. Even to the 
 last he permitted those to approach who 
 
24 MEMOIR OF 
 
 had been on terms of intimacy with him, 
 and it was thus that I was a witness of his 
 dying moments. Four hours before his 
 death, I was in that memorable cabinet, 
 where the happiest hours of his life had 
 been spent, and where I had seen him 
 surrounded with so much homage, enjoying 
 his well-merited success ; he caused him- 
 self to be carried thither, and wished that 
 his last breath should be drawn there. 
 His countenance was in a state of perfect 
 repose, and never did his noble head appear 
 to me more beautiful or worthy of admira- 
 tion. No alteration of a too sensible or 
 painful kind had yet taken place — only a 
 little weakness and difficulty in supporting 
 himself were observable. 
 
 " I held the hand which he had extended 
 to me, while he said in a voice scarcely ar- 
 ticulate,— 'You see what a difference there 
 is between the man of Tuesday, (we had 
 met on that day,) and the man of Sunday ; 
 
BARON CUVIER. 25 
 
 yet so many things remain to be done ! 
 Three important works to be published, the 
 materials of which are prepared, and no- 
 thing remains for me but to write them.' 
 I made an effort to find some words to ex- 
 press to him the general interest which he 
 excited. ' I love to believe it,' he replied ; 
 ' I have long endeavoured to render myself 
 worthy of it.' 
 
 11 It will be seen that his last thoughts 
 were toward the future, and aspiring after 
 glory — a noble desire of immortality ! At 
 nine o'clock of the evening of the 13th of 
 May, he had ceased to live, having reached 
 only the age of 62, although belonging to 
 a family remarkable for longevity. 
 
 14 At his own desire, Cuvier was buried 
 in the Cemetery of Pere la Chaise, beneath 
 the tomb-stone which covered the remains 
 of his daughter. His funeral obsequies 
 were attended by men of all ranks and opi- 
 nions, who even in the midst of a raging 
 
26 MEMOIR OF 
 
 pestilence (the cholera) were eager to offer 
 on his tomb their last tribute of affection 
 and admiration." 
 
 Affecting exclamation ! So many things 
 remain to be done ! And they were of 
 course left wrcdone. The stern messenger 
 of heaven had received his commission to 
 arrest the philosopher, and was allowed no 
 discretion in executing it ; turning a deaf 
 ear therefore to the wishes of Cuvier for a 
 respite, seconded though they were by those 
 of the whole scientific world, he carried 
 off his illustrious victim to the tomb. O 
 what a comment upon the words of the 
 wisest of men, " Whatsoever thy hand find- 
 eth to do, do it with thy might ; for there 
 is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor 
 wisdom, in the grave whither thou goest." 
 Eccles. 9, 10. Reader, when death comes, 
 may this not be your exclamation in refer- 
 ence to the great work, the work of your 
 salvation. Yet how common a case is this ! 
 
BARON CUVIER. 27 
 
 What multitudes are surprised by the last 
 enemy, with not only many works of time 
 unfinished, but the work for eternity not 
 even began ! How many, when the hand 
 of death has been suddenly laid upon them, 
 have started with amazement and horror 
 from their neglect of salvation, only to be 
 convinced that it was too late then to at- 
 tempt it, and that they had made a mistake 
 " at once infinite and irreparable ; and had 
 been guilty of an infatuation, which it will 
 require eternity to deplore and eternity to 
 comprehend, 11 
 
MEMOIR OF CLEMENTINE CUVIER. 
 
 ▲8 CONTAINED IN THE LETTER SENT TO THE EVANGE- 
 LICAL MAGAZINE FOR FEBRUARY, 1828.* 
 
 Paris, January 11, 1828. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I. send you, as I promised, some account 
 of the character and death of Sophia Laure 
 Clementine Cuvier, daughter of the cele- 
 brated Baron Cuvier, who was taken from 
 us last September. We had hoped much 
 from her piety, talents, and zeal ; but she 
 was prepared for higher enjoyments and 
 
 * Some of the particulars contained in this Let- 
 ter have already been generally alluded to in the 
 foregoing account, taken from the Edinburgh Re- 
 view, the writer in which acknowledges to have 
 received them from the Archives du Christianisme, 
 a French periodical, devoted to the cause of Evan- 
 gelical Religion, and to which the account of Cle- 
 mentine was no doubt furnished by the same hand 
 that sent it to the Evangelical Magazine. 
 
30 MEMOIR OF 
 
 more perfect services than those with which 
 I had associated her ; and though removed 
 from the sphere in which she promised to 
 be so useful, at the early age of twenty- 
 two, her departure has left an impression 
 as profound and as salutary as might have 
 been produced by many years of active 
 and successful exertion. The frame of 
 Clementine was never robust; in her 
 childhood her health was delicate ; but her 
 mind displayed a precocious vigour ; when 
 very young she preferred study to play, 
 and always evinced a desire for improve- 
 ment, which triumphed over all that is re- 
 pulsive in serious occupations to the ardour 
 and gaiety of youth. When only thirteen 
 years of age, she accompanied her father 
 to England; and an accidental circum- 
 stance revealed the habits of her mind, and 
 the disposition of her heart, at that early 
 age. She lost a book of prayers, which 
 she was accustomed to use ; it was found 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIEB. 31 
 
 by a friend, who assisted her father in the 
 education of his daughter — all the prayers 
 were written by her own hand, and all had 
 been composed by herself. 
 
 As she advanced in years, her amiable 
 and excellent qualities developed rapidly 
 and progressively, she became the delight, 
 and even the instructress of the aged of her 
 rank, and a model for the young — she took 
 her place in all the religious institutions 
 which had been formed in the last few 
 years, in this city, and manifested not 
 merely a benevolent interest in their suc- 
 cess, but a Christian and spiritual attach- 
 ment to the sacred cause they were in- 
 tended to advance. During several years 
 preceding her more decided profession of 
 faith in the doctrines of the Gospel, it was 
 easy to discover, on public occasions, by 
 the fixedness of her intelligent countenance, 
 the attitude of her fine form, and the suffu- 
 sion of her beautiful eyes, that her whole 
 
32 MEMOIR OF 
 
 heart was occupied and engaged with the 
 truths and facts to which she listened with 
 breathless eagerness. Clementine was a 
 member of a committee of twelve ladies, 
 who superintended the Female School of 
 the Lutheran Church ; and she not only- 
 attended with regularity the classes, but 
 she visited frequently the young persons 
 in their families, that she might be useful 
 both to the aged and the young. She 
 founded a benevolent society, composed of 
 young females of the two Protestant com- 
 munions; she drew up the plan, and ob- 
 tained the necessary assistance. This little 
 society had only existed about two years ; 
 but in the course of the last year, more 
 than sixty families were relieved by gifts 
 of clothes and linen, the work of the ladies 
 themselves, and by distributions of bread 
 and meat, purchased with the savings of 
 their purse. Clementine was also one of 
 the collectors of the Ladies' Bible Society, 
 
CLEMENTINE CI7VIER. 33 
 
 and of the Ladies' Missionary Society; 
 and besides these and other similar occu- 
 pations, she frequently visited the Hospital 
 for Aged Women, where the Protestants 
 were collected in a room while she read the 
 Scriptures, and the Psalms, and Prayers of 
 the Church to them, and addressed them, 
 with modesty and wisdom, on the subjects 
 that had been presented by their reading, 
 or on those most suitable to their peculiar 
 conditions. In the midst of these useful 
 and delightful exertions, she was assailed 
 by a pulmonary disease. Towards the 
 close of the year 1826, her health was 
 seriously affected ' t and from the month of 
 December, till the February of the follow- 
 ing year, she was confined to her bed. It 
 was during this season of suffering, that 
 God more particularly manifested to her 
 the beauty and the glory of the Gospel, 
 and prepared her for that further manifes- 
 tation of his love, to which, in a few short 
 3 
 
31 MEMOIR OF 
 
 months, it was her happiness to be admit- 
 ted. Her habits of respect for religion, 
 contracted in childhood, and manifested in 
 the regular performance of all her relative 
 and social duties, did not satisfy her desires, 
 nor afford tranquillity to her mind. She 
 felt that she must love an infinite object, 
 and that Christ alone could fill the soul 
 in which he had already excited those 
 spiritual appetites which he has promised 
 to supply. Even surrounded as she was 
 by all the enjoyments and illusions of this 
 world, she was only happy as she was 
 conversant with the spiritual and substan- 
 tial blessings of the kingdom of God. She 
 read and reflected much : dreading on the 
 one hand the pride of reason, and on the 
 other, the impulse of the imagination, she 
 examined with severe application of mind, 
 both her own religious state, and the doc- 
 trines that were presented to her faith. 
 Buck's Christian Experience, Scott's Force 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIER. 35 
 
 of Truth, Gregory's Evidences, Appia's 
 Christian Life, and especially Chalmers' 
 publications, were read with delight; and 
 that they met both her taste and her wants 
 was evident from the numerous extracts 
 that she made of those passages that were 
 more particularly calculated to bring the 
 mind into subjection to the obedience of 
 Christ. 
 
 Long after every doubt had been re- 
 moved as to the divine inspiration of the 
 Scriptures, she complained that she did not 
 feel her heart sufficiently affected by the 
 remedy which the Gospel revealed, and of 
 which she felt, increasingly, her need — at 
 the same time she was convinced that faith 
 is the gift of God, and that no man can call 
 Jesus Christ, Lord, but by the Holy Ghost. 
 In this state of mind, writing to one of her 
 friends, she said — 
 
 ; " Every day brings me fresh proof of my 
 own insufficiency , but, ■ ask, and it shall 
 
36 MEMOIR OF 
 
 be given you ; knock, and it shall be open- 
 ed unto you.' These words save me from 
 despair." Feeling increasingly her spiritual 
 indigence, and especially the necessity of a 
 free and sovereign pardon, she said, in 
 another letter — 
 
 " It is not God, the Creator of the world, 
 that we really love, but God the Saviour — 
 God who receives us graciously. The 
 heart only feels real love to God, as it em- 
 braces the mysteries of the Gospel. The 
 mercy of God, his love for sinful creatures, 
 is manifested in an admirable manner and 
 degree in the work of redemption; and 
 when that redemption is embraced, the heart 
 must be regenerated, and consequently filled 
 with love and gratitude to its Saviour ; but 
 till then it remains cold and insensible. 
 The grace of God rises in my soul ; I com- 
 prehend the mercy of the Lord Jesus, and 
 certainly I experience the sweetness of his 
 promises." 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIER. 37 
 
 Such convictions and desires could not 
 but result in that " peace which passeth all 
 understanding" — the heart of Clementine 
 was soon filled with delight and joy. In a 
 letter written in April last, she thus ex- 
 pressed herself: — 
 
 " I want to tell you how happy I am : 
 my heart has at length felt what my mind 
 has long understood — the sacrifice of Christ 
 answers to all the wishes, and meets all the 
 wants of my soul ; and since I have been 
 enabled to embrace with ardour all its 
 provisions, my heart enjoys a sweet and 
 incomparable tranquillity. Formerly, I 
 vaguely assured myself that a merciful God 
 would pardon me : but now I feel that I 
 have obtained that pardon, that I obtain it 
 every moment, and I experience inexpres- 
 sible delight in seeking it at the foot of the 
 Cross. My heart is full, and it is now that 
 I understand the angelic song — ' Glory to 
 God in the highest, peace on earth, good- 
 
38 MEMOIR OF 
 
 will towards men.' But that which has 
 especially affected me, and has, by the 
 grace of God, opened to my view all the 
 tender mercy of the plan of our redemp- 
 tion, is the import of those gentle but 
 assuring words, 'He will not break the 
 bruised reed, nor quench the smoking 
 flax.' " 
 
 " I experience a pleasure in reading the 
 Bible," she said in another letter, " which 
 I have never felt before ; it attracts and 
 fixes me to an unconceivable degree, and 
 I seek sincerely there, and only there, the 
 truth. When I compare the calm and 
 the peace which the smallest and most 
 imperceptible grain of faith gives to the 
 soul, with all that the world alone can give 
 of joy, or happiness, or glory, I feel that 
 the least in the kingdom of heaven, is a 
 hundred times more blessed than the great- 
 est and most elevated of the men of the 
 world." 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIER. 39 
 
 Acknowledging with gratitude the com- 
 forts she possessed, and blessing the hand 
 that inflicted the sufferings she endured, 
 Clementine diffused around her the happi- 
 ness she enjoyed. To one of her Christian 
 friends, she wrote as follows : — 
 
 " Ours is, indeed, a delightful intimacy, 
 for it will never end. Often I anticipate 
 the day when we shall be all united in the 
 same love. O how unhappy must they be 
 who know not the sweetness of such a hope ! 
 and what thanks do we not owe to that 
 God who has given us the experience of its 
 power ! " 
 
 Her benevolence, always active, now 
 took a character more elevated and more 
 in harmony with the charity of the Gospel. 
 
 " When I now hear of the errors and 
 evil conduct of my fellow-creatures, or 
 when I witness their perverseness," she said 
 on another occasion, " the disgust which I 
 used to feel is exchanged for an indescriba- 
 
40 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ble movement of the heart : I want to 
 speak to them, and I enter into the meaning 
 of those divine words — * Verily, I say unto 
 you, there is joy in heaven over one sin- 
 ner that repenteth, more than over ninety 
 and nine just persons which need no re- 
 pentance.' 5 
 
 The sight of evil in others, produced 
 also, in her, an increased feeling of her 
 own weakness and unworthiness, and of 
 the absolute necessity and sufficiency of 
 Almighty grace. 
 
 " The certainty that without divine grace 
 I can do nothing ; but that that grace is 
 always with me, that it surrounds me, pre- 
 serves me, supports me, — this sweet assu- 
 rance fills my heart ; and thus I feel, most 
 profoundly, that faith alone can satisfy the 
 void which I sometimes used to feel in my 
 soul." 
 
 [A heavenly expression animated her 
 countenance, while gentle and serious re- 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIER. 41 
 
 flection was always impressed on her fea- 
 tures. There was in her whole deportment 
 something which seemed raised above this 
 world. Never was a more benevolent dis- 
 position united with greater intellectual 
 riches ; her countenance beamed with de- 
 light, when a good action was related ; but 
 when satire or unkindness ventured to ex- 
 hibit itself in her presence, she heard it 
 with a thoughtful air, as if she did not un- 
 derstand what it meant — it was the only 
 subject which seemed to be beyond her 
 comprehension.] (Archives du Chris- 
 tianisme.) 
 
 The health of Clementine appeared to 
 be sufficiently restored in the beginning of 
 the summer, to permit her parents to wish 
 for her marriage with a gentleman whom 
 she preferred, and whose character justi- 
 fied her preference. The marriage was 
 expected to take place on the 25th of Au- 
 gust last, and her sentiments on that occa- 
 
42 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sion were thus expressed in a letter to a 
 friend. — " I do not ask of God to make me 
 happy, but to sanctify and purify my soul ; 
 and I expect that he will keep and preserve 
 me in the important event. The profound 
 conviction, that there is an infinite and 
 merciful Being, who orders all things, that 
 not a hair of the head falls without his 
 permission, and that he will control every 
 circumstance for my real welfare, gives me 
 an habitual peace and tranquillity which 
 nothing else could inspire." 
 
 It was in the midst of the preparations for 
 her nuptials, that she was attacked by the 
 disease which soon brought her to the 
 grave. So fatal a result was not at first 
 apprehended, either by Clementine or her 
 family; but her mind was familiar with 
 death, and her heart was prepared for hea- 
 ven. Writing, about the period of her 
 seizure, to an absent friend, she said — 
 
 " What sweetness there is in the thought 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIER. 43 
 
 of that eternal life — of that state of rest and 
 love ! Then we shall comprehend those 
 delightful words of our Saviour, 'I go to 
 prepare a place for you, that where I am 
 ye may be also.' " 
 
 [When her complaint was fully confirm- 
 ed and those around her could no longer 
 doubt the result of this painful struggle, she 
 seemed to derive increasing energy from 
 her sufferings, and ceased to experience 
 any fear. She thus spoke to Mr. D. (her 
 intended husband) who was constantly be- 
 side her sick couch. " We must be re- 
 signed ; do not murmur ; without doubt I 
 shall be grieved to leave so many persons 
 whom I love ; but if it is the will of God, 
 I am ready." These words, " If it be the 
 will of God," " As it shall please God," 
 were incessantly repeated by her, they 
 were her constant answers ; and from her 
 lips they were not unmeaning words, but . 
 the genuine expression of confidence and 
 
44 MEMOIR OF 
 
 submission to the will of God. The pa- 
 tience with which she bore her various 
 sufferings having extorted expressions of 
 surprise and admiration from her friends, 
 she was most anxious to prevent such re- 
 marks in future.] Archives du Chris- 
 tianisme. 
 
 Her disorder soon confined her to her 
 bed, and, from the violence of the discharge 
 of blood, she was unable to converse. Her 
 sufferings were great ; but her patience, 
 her resignation, and her confidence, were 
 unimpaired. To a friend, who had not seen 
 her during several days, she said, " God 
 has been always with me ; he has holden 
 me by the hand : nature has been impa- 
 tient and has revolted, but the Lord has 
 been always there, ready to support my 
 courage." To another friend she said, 
 " Pray for me, for I can no longer pray for 
 myself." The accent and the look which 
 accompanied these words were, however, a 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIEK. 45 
 
 most powerful prayer. "It is God that 
 supports me ; I feel that he is with me, and 
 if he leaves me, I feel his absence in a 
 moment; you know," said she, appealing 
 to her sister,* "that I was never naturally 
 resigned." " If God grants you patience," 
 said a visitor, " he sees that you merit his 
 favour." "Hush," said she, with a most 
 expressive eagerness of manner, "talk not 
 of merit ! " She manifested for her father 
 and her sister the most tender affection; 
 and on one occasion, when, after a violent 
 attack, she had expressed her desire to de- 
 part, the tears of her sister and her parents 
 so overcame her, that she reproached her- 
 self for such a wish, and exclaimed, " O 
 how selfish I am ! I will take my medicine 
 and try every remedy, because I wish to 
 recover for your sakes." She gave to her 
 
 * A daughter of Madame Cuvier by a former 
 husband. 
 
46 M E M O I R F 
 
 intended husband a copy of " The Imitation 
 of Christ," in which her trembling hand 
 had marked some passages, and written 
 some lines of Christian affection ; and hav- 
 ing requested him to place his head before 
 her, she laid on it her hand, and said — 
 " Lord bless us both ! — Lord, restore me, 
 that I may love thee more ; but if thou hast 
 otherwise decided, thy holy will be done ! " 
 As a proof of the strength and tender- 
 ness of her filial piety and of her deep soli- 
 citude for the spiritual welfare of her pa- 
 rents, an incident may be mentioned which 
 occurred not long before her decease. A 
 number of pious ladies, some of them per- 
 sons of rank and distinction, had mutually 
 agreed to spend an hour in the week, each 
 in her own retirement, but all at the same 
 time, to pray for the conversion of their re- 
 latives. Clementine was one of this little 
 praying band, and most conscientiously 
 kept the sacred appointment : and we can 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIER. 47 
 
 easily imagine what were the hallowed 
 breathings of her soul, in those solemn sea- 
 sons set apart to plead with God for the 
 conversion of her illustrious parent. One 
 night, when rapidly sinking under the power 
 of her disease, she was heard to say, with 
 considerable emphasis and emotion, " My 
 father, my father.'' 1 The by-standers on 
 hearing the expression, sent for the Baron, 
 who came immediately to the bed-side of 
 his dying child. She intimated, however, 
 that it was not her design to have him sent 
 for, and seemed somewhat discomposed at 
 his appearance. Her friends were little at 
 a loss to account for her conduct, till one 
 of them, who was in the secret of her closet 
 engagement on behalf of her relatives, on 
 looking at the clock, perceived that it was 
 the hour of her intercession with God for 
 their salvation. The cry of " My father, 
 my father," was in fact the audible expres- 
 sion of her wrestling with God for the con- 
 
48 MEMOIR OF 
 
 version of the Baron : her feelings had 
 become too strong to be repressed into si- 
 lent mental prayer, and burst forth in sup- 
 plication, with strong crying and tears. 
 Nothing could make her forget the hour 
 consecrated to prayer for her beloved fa- 
 ther, not her own great sufferings and ap- 
 proaching death, and strong in death, the 
 sacred feelings of a pious child, lived and 
 triumphed in her breast. 
 
 [The last hours (September 28) which 
 this heavenly-minded young woman spent 
 on earth, were even more remarkable than 
 any of her preceding days. The night had 
 been passed in delirium ; it still continued ; 
 but she had intervals of reason, and her 
 heart never wandered. She was even 
 more than ever pervaded with resignation, 
 faith, and love. . Though still detained on 
 earth, her heart incessantly aspired to the 
 heavenly country whither she was going. 
 " You know," said she to a friend a few 
 
CLEMENTINE CTJVIER. 49 
 
 hours before her death, " you are my sister 
 in Christ — for eternity — there is nothing 
 else deserves the name." She perceived 
 that Mr. D. had been weeping ; " What is 
 the matter with you ? " said she, "I am 
 grieved to see you ill — all is right, since it 
 is the will of God."] — Archives du Chris- 
 tianisme* 
 
 She recovered the power of speech again 
 about half an hour before she breathed her 
 last ; she called her relatives, but she could 
 not pronounce their names, and could only 
 press their hands — she was calm — she 
 sighed — a sweet smile settled on her lovely 
 countenance : she was absent from the 
 body, and present with the Lord. 
 
 An incident which occurred when the 
 coffin was to be closed on the inanimate 
 form of Clementine, furnished an affecting 
 proof of the respect entertained by Baron 
 Cuvier for the religious belief and habits of 
 her whom he had so prematurely lost. 
 4 
 
50 MEMOIR OF 
 
 But a short time before her death, she 
 had shown to one of her most intimate 
 Christian friends, a volume containing the 
 New Testament and the Psalms, which she 
 had had bound together and interleaved 
 with blank pages. " This," said she to 
 her friend, " I design for my wedding pre- 
 sent to you." " Indeed," said her friend, 
 f* and why not give it me now % " " No, my 
 dear," replied Clementine, " not now, I 
 shall use it myself, and I wish to write 
 something in it before I give it to you." 
 
 After the first agitation occasioned by 
 her death, her friend remembered the pro- 
 mised volume, and as the present was not 
 less precious as a relic than as a gift, she 
 was eager to gain possession of the book, 
 which she considered as her own. It was 
 not to be found ; she examined the cham- 
 ber herself in vain ; she continued her 
 researches without success; the intended 
 bridegroom assured his friend, that he had 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIER. 51 
 
 not, as sho had suspected, removed the vo- 
 lume ; at length, by inquiring minutely of 
 all the persons who had assisted in the per- 
 formance of the last offices preparatory to 
 the funeral, the destination of the lost trea- 
 sure was ascertained. 
 
 It is usual in France to raise the hands 
 of deceased persons, place them on the 
 breast, and support them in that position by 
 some object that had belonged to the de- 
 parted. In this case, a book, a volume of 
 sermons much read by Clementine, had 
 been selected by her attendants. When 
 the Baron came to take his linal farewell 
 of the body of his child before the coffin 
 was closed, he inquired what book sup- 
 ported her hands; and when informed, 
 " That will not do," said he ; " the Bible 
 was my daughter's book : is there not one 
 here? " Among the books in her chamber 
 was found the interleaved copy, designed 
 for her friend j the title-page was shown to 
 
52 MEMOIR OF 
 
 the Baron, " Ah ! " said he, "that was her 
 book ; " and he placed it under the hands 
 of his unconscious daughter : under those 
 hands that had often been joined and raised 
 in prayer for her beloved father. 
 
 The lady who had thus lost the promised 
 pledge of her eternal friendship with Cle- 
 mentine was consoled and in some degree 
 compensated for her disappointment, by the 
 assurance that the grave of her lamented 
 friend contained the proof that a certain 
 measure of sympathy of sentiment on the 
 most important subjects united the afflicted 
 Baron and his departed child. 
 
 The funeral of this young lady formed a 
 scene of interest and solemnity, unprece- 
 dented in this city. Her remains were first 
 carried to the Lutheran Church, where a 
 prayer was offered up amidst the tears and 
 sobs of multitudes, and then deposited in 
 the Cemetery of Pere la Chaise, where a 
 discourse was delivered by one of the Pas- 
 
CLEMENTINE CUVIER. 53 
 
 tors, and another by M. Satrandi, a literary- 
 friend. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 M.W, 
 
54 VANITYOF 
 
 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 Reader, you have now perused this short 
 but interesting memorial of the young, the 
 beautiful, the pious Clementine Cuvier ; and 
 while the heart is softened, to receive, I 
 would hope, the impression of religious 
 truth, may I solicit your serious and devout 
 attention to the lessons with which the nar- 
 rative is fraught. 
 
 First, — Does it not most impressively 
 remind us of the vanity of the world, 
 and that, in two points of view its insuffi- 
 ciency to make us happy, and the uncer- 
 tainty of its continuance ? 
 
 "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity and 
 vexation of spirit." With such a confes- 
 sion did the man go off the stage of exist- 
 ence, who of all the human race was the best 
 qualified to give an opinion upon such a sub- 
 
THE WORtD. 55 
 
 ject. If the possession of royalty, unbound- 
 ed wealth, peace, surpassing wisdom, and 
 all the sources of sensual gratification, 
 could satisfy the desires of an immortal 
 soul, then had not Solomon been compelled 
 by experience, to reduce the sum total of 
 the world's power of giving happiness to 
 two mere cyphers, and pronounce it to be 
 nothing but vanity and vexation. And 
 now hear the testimony of another, " by 
 whom the world with its fashions and its 
 follies, its principles, and its practices, has 
 been proposed in form to Englishmen, as 
 the proper object of their attention and de- 
 votion.* Lord Chesterfield has avowed 
 as much with respect to himself, and by 
 his writings said in effect to it, ' Save me, 
 for thou art my God.' He has tendered 
 his assistance to act as priest upon the oc- 
 
 * I have quoted this in another of my works, 
 but it is so striking that it will bear to be re-quot- 
 ed. 
 
56 VANITY OP 
 
 casion, and conduct the ceremonial. At the 
 close of life, however* his God he found 
 was about to forsake him, and therefore 
 was forsaken by him. — You shall hear 
 some of his sentiments and expressions, 
 which have not been hitherto, so far as I 
 know, duly noticed and applied to their use ; 
 that of furnishing an antidote, and they do 
 furnish a very powerful one, to the noxious 
 positions contained in his volumes. They 
 are well worthy your strictest attention. 
 c I have seen,' says this man of the world, 
 " the silly rounds of business and pleasure, 
 and have done with them all. I have en- 
 joyed all the pleasures of the world, and 
 consequently know their futility, and do not 
 regret their loss. I appraise them at their 
 real value, which is in truth very low; 
 whereas those who have not experienced 
 always over-rate them. They only see 
 their gay outside, and are dazzled with 
 their glare : but I have been behind the 
 
THE WORLD. 57 
 
 scenes. I have seen all the coarse pulleys 
 and dirty ropes which exhibit and move the 
 gaudy machines ; and I have seen and 
 smelt the tallow candles, which illuminate 
 the whole decoration, to the astonishment 
 and admiration of an ignorant audience. — 
 When I reflect back upon what I have seen, 
 what I have heard, and what I have done, 
 I can hardly persuade myself that all that 
 frivolous hurry, and bustle, and pleasure of 
 the world had any reality ; but I look upon 
 all that has passed, as one of those roman- 
 tic dreams which opium commonly occa- 
 sions ; and I by no means desire to repeat 
 the nauseous dose for the sake of the fugitive 
 dream. Shall I tell you that I bear this 
 melancholy situation with that meritorious 
 constancy and resignation which most peo- 
 ple boast of? No; for I really cannot help 
 it. I bear it because I must bear it, 
 whether I will or no. I think of nothing 
 but killing time the best way I can, now 
 
58 VANITYOF* 
 
 that he has become mine enemy. It is my 
 resolution to sleep in the carriage during 
 the remainder of the journey.' 
 
 11 When a Christian priest speaks slight- 
 ingly of the world, he is supposed to do so 
 in the way of his profession, and to decry 
 through envy, the pleasures he is forbidden 
 to taste. But here, I think, you have the 
 testimony of a witness every way compe- 
 tent. No man ever knew the world better, 
 or enjoyed more of its favours, than this 
 nobleman. Yet you see in how poor, ab- 
 ject, and wretched a condition, at the time 
 when he most wanted help and comfort, 
 the world left him, and he left the world. 
 The sentences above cited from him com- 
 pose, in my humble opinion, the most strik- 
 ing and affecting sermon upon the vanity 
 of the world, ever yet preached to man- 
 kind."* 
 
 * Bishop Home's Sermons. 
 
THE WORLD. 59 
 
 Such was the confession, in his old age, 
 to a son that afterwards died by his own 
 hand, of Lord Chesterfield, the oracle of 
 English gaiety and manners. 
 
 It were easy to cite testimonies to the 
 vanity and insufficiency of the world from 
 writers, compared with whose purer, bright- 
 er fame, that of LordChesterfield is but as 
 the spark of an extinguished candle sending 
 forth smoke and an intolerable odour, to 
 the light of the morning. Sir James 
 Mackintosh, one of the most accomplished 
 men and elegant writers of modern times, 
 in speaking of Madame de Stael, that extra- 
 ordinary woman, who astonished all Eu- 
 rope by her writings and her conversation, 
 observes — " Placed in many respects in the 
 highest situation to which humanity can 
 aspire, possessed, unquestionably, of the 
 highest powers of reasoning, emancipated 
 in a singular degree from prejudices, and 
 entering with the keenest relish into all the 
 
60 VANITY OF 
 
 feelings that seemed to suffice for the hap- 
 piness and the occupations of philosophers, 
 patriots, and 1 Overs, she has still testified, 
 that without religion there is nothing stable, 
 sublime, or satisfactory ; and that it alone 
 completes and consummates all to which 
 reason and affection can aspire. 11 What a 
 confession from one whom the greatest mon- 
 archs of Europe either feared or courted, 
 and who lived amidst the applause of all 
 the rarest mind on earth at the time. Yet 
 she found the world a broken cistern, and 
 turned at last to religion as the only foun- 
 tain that could satisfy the cravings after 
 happiness which are felt alike by the great- 
 est and the least of the human race. If all 
 the brilliant scenes which the world pre- 
 sented to this wonderful woman proved to 
 be phantoms, and ended in vanity, what 
 has it to offer that can satisfy ordinary 
 minds ?" 
 
THE WORLD. 61 
 
 Precisely the same thing happens in sa- 
 vage as in civilized life, for the soul of man 
 is every where the same in its desires and 
 its disappointments, as long as things seen 
 and temporal are the highest objects of its 
 ambition. An old man in Siberia, once 
 said to a Missionary, " I will state to you a 
 case, and request your opinion of it. There 
 was a man. who, during a long life wished 
 to enjoy many things, and many of his de- 
 sires were granted ; he wished to have sons, 
 and sons were given him ; to have grand- 
 children, and his eyes have seen them ; to 
 be admitted to the feasts and assemblies 
 of the people, and he was gratified with 
 these ; to enjoy the pleasures of the chase, 
 and he was a successful hunter ; he sought 
 increase of riches, and his cattle multipli- 
 ed ; he wished for length of days, and he is 
 now an old man. But now he has nothing 
 more to wish or hope for in life, for the day 
 of death cannot be far off. He has done 
 
62 V A N I T Y O F 
 
 with feasting, and travelling, and hunting, 
 and making rich, and now he wishes to 
 know if he may without making any noise 
 about it, simply worship the God of heaven, 
 without avowing himself a Christian, and 
 give up the worship of the temple gods, 
 but make no formal abjuration of them ! " 
 
 How near akin to the experience of Solo- 
 mon, the wisest and richest of men, as de- 
 scribed in the book of Ecclesiastes, was that 
 of the poor savage here described : how 
 like to both these was the feeling of Ma- 
 dame de Stael and Lord Chesterfield ; how 
 consentaneous is the testimony of them all 
 with the universal sentiments of mankind ; 
 and how clearly and fully does the expe- 
 rience of the human race attest, that there 
 is a void in the heart of man which nothing 
 but religion can fill, and a yearning which 
 nothing else can satisfy. 
 
 But perhaps the history of Clementine 
 Cuvier will furnish an illustration of the. 
 
1 K * 
 
 THE WOULD. 63 
 
 emptiness of the world, far different in kind 
 from these, but as likely to impress a young 
 heart as any that could be brought for- 
 ward. Observe her situation, and mark the 
 rare combination of circumstances which 
 is presented, to delight and fascinate an 
 ardent mind. Think of the celebrity of her 
 illustrious father, whose political offices and 
 philosophical researches drew around him 
 all the most distinguished men of France, 
 and made his home one of the Parisian cen* 
 tres of intellectual and national greatness ; 
 think of those personal accomplishments 
 and mental acquirements which excited the 
 admiration and interest of all who knew 
 her ; think of the respect and attachment 
 of the humane and religious, whose schemes 
 she supported, and whose institutions she 
 patronised ; add to this the gratitude she 
 perpetually received from the persons 
 whose wants she had relieved; and to crown 
 all, think of the attachment of her loveri 
 
64 NATURE OF 
 
 and the prospect of her marriage, and you 
 will then perceive that the world, invested 
 with its brightest and purest glory, stood 
 before her in a form best adapted to capti- 
 vate a pure and youthful mind, and to 
 compel it to say, " J T is enough 1 ;! I am satis- 
 fied it is good to be here?" But did it 
 satisfy her mind? Did it fill her heart, 
 and leave her nothing more to wish for ? 
 No. Her memorialist tells us, that " sur- 
 rounded as she was by all the enjoyments 
 and illusions of this world, she was only 
 happy as she was conversant with the 
 spiritual and substantial blessings of the 
 kingdom of God. She felt that she 
 
 MUST LOVE AN INFINITE OBJECT, AND THAT 
 CHRIST ALONE COULD FILL THE SOUL. Even 
 
 to her, the world was nothing more than a 
 broken cistern, that could hold no water, 
 and she thirsted, panted, and looked round 
 for the fountain of living water — and found 
 
 it — IN RELIGION. 
 
RELIGION. 65 
 
 Reader, does the world satisfy you? 
 Perhaps you are a votary of worldly plea- 
 sure, and found at all its gay resorts ; if so, 
 let me ask you, whether there are no 
 occasional feelings of dissatisfaction ; no 
 cravings after something better; no sur- 
 misings that this is a scanty portion for a 
 rational and an immortal mind to live upon ; 
 no seasons of envy and disappointed ambi- 
 tion ; no felt resentments of a soul finding out 
 that it is mocked with the shadows of hap- 
 piness instead of the substance % Does not 
 a time of reflection come, when, after the 
 music is silent, the party is scattered, and 
 all the gay pageantry is passed away, and 
 you are alone, the mask drop's from the 
 world, and the gay deceiver stands before 
 you a detected impostor, a convicted liar % 
 Are there not seasons of ennui, when, un- 
 der the influence of satiety and disgust, 
 you exclaim in bitterness, " Yes, it is all 
 vanity ; the Preacher has said it, and I 
 5 
 
66 VANITYOF 
 
 /ee/it." Do you not find at times, that you 
 also want an infinite object for the affec- 
 tions, which shall yield, not drops to tanta- 
 lize, but ever- flowing streams to satisfy : a 
 fountain, a "river of life, clear as crys- 
 tal?" Hear then the words, listen to the 
 invitation of the prophet, " Ho, every one 
 that thirsteth, come ye to the waters ; and 
 he that hath no money, come ye, buy wine 
 and milk without money and without price. 
 Wherefore do ye spend money for that 
 which is not bread, and your labour for'that 
 which satisfieth not ? Hearken diligently 
 unto me, and eat ye that which is good, 
 and let your soul delight itself in fatness." 
 Isaiah, lv. 1, 2. Clementine was never 
 happy amidst all she had, or hoped for, till 
 she complied with this invitation, till she 
 opened her heart to the enjoyment of reli- 
 gion ; and then she found rest and peace 
 for her spirit, and hungered and thirsted no 
 
THE WORLD. 67 
 
 But her short history proves the vanity 
 of the world in another point of view, by 
 impressing us with the transient and pre- 
 carious tenure of its possessions. 
 
 The experience of all the parties in this 
 painful event concur in teaching the uncer- 
 tainty of the best and brightest hopes. If 
 we turn to the bereaved father, we see him 
 standing on the very pinnacle of human 
 glory, yet suddenly followed and wrapt, 
 even there, with a cloud so dark and dense 
 as to render nothing visible to him but the 
 gloomy shadow that had fallen upon his 
 prospect ; and we hear him at the very time 
 when a nation, proud of his name, was 
 laying the tribute of its homage at his feet, 
 giving vent to the sorrows of his bursting 
 heart in those few and bitter words, " /was 
 a father, but have lost all" What did 
 he not hope for from his Clementine, the 
 last, the most beautiful and promising of 
 his children ? O what a wreck was made 
 
68 VANITY OF 
 
 when she died ! What blissful anticipa- 
 tions hung withering like fading flowers, 
 upon her sepulchre, or were interred in her 
 coffin ! Earth presented little to interest 
 him, when he saw this angel daughter take 
 wing and flee to heaven : and after he had 
 gazed and lost her in the cloud which re- 
 ceived her out of his sight, who can won- 
 der, that as he looked upon her vacant seat 
 in his own house, he should mournfully ex- 
 claim, " Vanity of vanities, all is vanity" 
 Nor was his the heaviest loss, the deepest 
 emphasis of wo, the sharpest pang of dis- 
 appointment. There was one whose love 
 was more tender, and whose hope was more 
 fondly eager than even that of a father; 
 one who was so soon to receive her as his 
 lovely bride, and call her the companion 
 of his life, the sharer and ornament of his 
 home, the mother and instructer of his 
 children, the comfort and counsellor of his 
 spirit, amidst the sorrows and difficulties of 
 
THE WORLB. by 
 
 his earthly pilgrimage ; whose seraphic 
 piety was to aid him in his heavenward 
 coarse, and who perhaps would attend him 
 as his ministering angel in the dark valley 
 of the shadow of death. O ! for Mm to 
 have her snatched from his embrace almost 
 before the altar, when she was so soon to 
 be united with him in the bonds of wedded 
 love ! What a mockery of earthly ex- 
 pectations was here ! What a proof of the 
 vanity of the world, and the delusive nature 
 of its prospects and of its promises was this ! 
 And then, think of Clementine herself. 
 Whose opening scenes of life could be 
 more flattering than hers % The morning 
 was at length calm and beautiful, the sky 
 serene and clear ; the mists, which at one 
 time had arisen, had vanished, and left an 
 unclouded sun to shine upon her path. 
 Every thing invited hope, and every thing 
 seemed to support and justify the fondest 
 p: anticipations : 
 
70 V A N I T Y OF 
 
 But mortal pleasure, what in truth art thou ? 
 The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below. 
 
 On a sudden a storm arose, and the as- 
 pect of every thing was changed A mortal 
 sickness came upon her, and from the bed 
 of death she beheld the dark fogs gather 
 and settle upon the prospect ; she saw the 
 enchanting scenes which had so lately 
 spread out in vernal beauty before her, 
 sink one after the other into the deepening 
 gloom ; she witnessed the preparation of 
 her nuptials, exchanged for those of her fu- 
 neral obsequies, and contemplated nought, 
 so far as earth is concerned, but the cem- 
 etery occupying the field of vision ! So 
 uncertain, and therefore so vain, are the 
 promises, so deceptive the smiles of the 
 world ! O who would hang their best and 
 fondest hopes on the brittle thread of life ? 
 Who that is wise will stake their chief 
 happiness on a beating pulse ? " The voico -JJ 
 
THE WORLD. 71 
 
 said, cry ; and he said, What shall I cry % 
 Ail flesh is grass and all the goodliness there- 
 of is as the flower of the field; the grass 
 withereth, the flower fadeth, because the 
 Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it. Surely 
 the people is grass." Even granting, then, 
 that you enjoy the world, and that it has 
 performed all its promises, and left you 
 nothing to wish, but that things should re- 
 main as they are, how do you know that 
 they will remain as they are ? What is 
 wanting here? said a courtier to his sov- 
 ereign, with whom he was riding amidst 
 the acclamations and splendour of a tri- 
 umphal procession. — "Continuance," re- 
 plied the monarch. So say I. Tell me 
 if you will, of your youth, your health, the 
 buoyancy of your spirits, your happy con- 
 nexions, your gay parties, your elegant 
 pleasures, your fair prospects; and then 
 ask me what is wanting, I reply, " Con- 
 tinuance." A single day may spoil every 
 
72 V A N I T Y F 
 
 thing; before to-morrow's sun shall rise 
 you may be attacked by disease and death. 
 You know not what an hour may bring 
 forth. Turn then for happiness from the 
 world to religion, this is both satisfying and 
 certain. Nothing can rob you of its privi- 
 leges ; they are vast as the capacity of 
 your soul, and lasting as your eternal ex- 
 istence. Hear the beautiful language of 
 Christ, — " Whosoever drinketh of the wa- 
 ter that I shall give him shall never thirst; 
 but the water that I shall give him, shall be 
 in him a well of water, springing up into 
 everlasting life," — John iv. 14. 
 
 The following verses pleasingly illustrate 
 the folly of fixing our affections on any 
 thing earthly, and of seeking our happiness 
 in any thing short of God himself. 
 
THE WORLD. 73 
 
 THE REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 Oh] ever thus from childhood's hour, 
 I 've seen my fondest hopes decay, 
 
 I never loved a tree or flower, 
 But 't was the first to fade away. 
 
 I never nursed a dear gazelle, 
 
 To glad me with his soft black eye, 
 
 But when it came to know me well, 
 And love mej it was sure to die. 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Why hast thou thus from childhood's hour 
 Fi^'d hope on things which soon decay ? 
 
 Why hast thou loved a tree or flower, 
 Untaught that such must fade away ? 
 
 Would wisdom choose a dear gazelle, 
 Howe'er it roll'd its soft black eye, 
 
 As that which long could know thee well, 
 And love thee long, when sure to die ? 
 
 Lo ! now thou 'rt come to manhood's hour, 
 Hast seen thy fondest hopes decay, 
 
 Bid thy soul speed in heav'n-born pow'r 
 To bliss which ne'er can fade away. 
 
 In faith behold enduring joys 
 Spring up on earth from light above ; 
 
 Despise life's gilded infant toys, 
 
 And rest in God, for " God is Love." 
 
 Christian Observer. 
 
74 NATURE OF 
 
 The Second lesson we learn from this 
 beautiful narrative, is the nature, the tran- 
 scendent excellence, and the beneficial ef- 
 fects of true religion. And what is reli- 
 gion? A question this of infinite moment. 
 Indifference to all religion is shocking in a 
 rational, fallen, and immortal creature : 
 and ignorance of true religion is little less 
 so. It is not any kind of religion that will 
 save us, but only that which God has en- 
 joined in his word. It is painful to think 
 how many are most laboriously occupied, 
 in following false views of this subject, and 
 to whom may be addressed the words of 
 the Prophet, "Behold all ye that kindle a 
 fire, that compass yourselves about with 
 sparks that ye have kindled. This shall 
 ye have of mine hand, ye shall lie down in 
 sorrow." — Isaiah, bO, 11. Turn back to 
 the religion of Clementine, and you will see 
 that with her it was a matter of deep ear- 
 nestness and devout seriousness ; it was not 
 
RELIGION. 75 
 
 a mere form, a set of opinions, a round of 
 ceremonies, but a thing of the heart, a 
 matter that engaged and occupied the soul. 
 " During several years preceding her more 
 decided profession of faith in the doctrines 
 of the Gospel, it was easy to discover on 
 public occasions, by the fixedness of her 
 intelligent countenance, the attitude of her 
 fine form, and the suffusion of her beautiful 
 eyes, that her whole heart was occupied 
 and engaged with, the truths and facts to 
 which she listened with breathless earnest- 
 ness." 
 
 To suppose that there can be true reli- 
 gion without great solicitude, and for awhile 
 even an oppressive anxiety, is in the high- 
 est degree irrational. Such a subject must 
 produce a deep thoughtfulness, a meditative 
 solemnity, a devout seriousness. If levity 
 be not checked, if a taste for gaiety be not 
 repressed, if a love of worldly pleasure be 
 not abated, if there be the same fondness for 
 
76 NATURE OF 
 
 the company and pursuits of the people of 
 the world, there can be no real piety ; re- 
 ligion does not, cannot exist in such a state 
 of mind as this. A person may indeed go 
 to church or chapel with uninterrupted 
 regularity and untiring constancy, without 
 suspending their amusements, or losing 
 their relish for fashion, folly, or dissipation, 
 just because they may keep up an attend- 
 ance upon public worship without a parti- 
 cle of religion. Think how momentous, 
 how awfully momentous a thing true piety 
 is ! It is the transaction of a soul with God 
 on the high concern of eternal salvation ; 
 it is the escape of a sinner from all the con- 
 sequences of his sin; it is the flight of a 
 human spirit from the wrath of God, the 
 curse of the law and the bitter pains of 
 eternal death; it is repentance for all the 
 sins of a life; it is the entire change of 
 our whole moral nature ; it is a deliberate 
 surrender of the heart to God ; it is the 
 
RELIGION. 7? 
 
 setting out of an immortal mind upon her 
 journey to glory, honour, and immortality : 
 — what ! — and all this, without deep soli- 
 citude, intense earnestness, absorbing inter- 
 est ? It were absurd to suppose it. No- 
 thing can better describe or express the 
 first stage of religious experience than the 
 anxious inquiry of the Philippian jailor — 
 " What shall I do to be saved? " What 
 shall I do to gain the salvation of my im- 
 mortal soul ? What ! the salvation of the 
 soul, a matter of such little consequence 
 that it may be carried on without any 
 abatement of the natural levity of the hu- 
 man mind, or the ardent thirst after vanity? 
 Is it possible that such an affair can be 
 conducted while the mind is supremely in- 
 tent upon the pleasures of the world % As 
 well might you imagine a condemned cri- 
 minal, intent at the same moment upon 
 gaining a pardon, and enjoying the society 
 of a party of card players; or a person 
 
78 NATURE OF 
 
 afflicted with a fatal disease anxiously- 
 seeking a remedy for his complaint, and at 
 the same time enjoying tne festivities of a 
 ball-room. No. The things are incom- 
 patible. Religion must make us serious 
 if it really take possession of our hearts. 
 This very term has been selected, not inap- 
 propriately, to describe the commencement 
 of piety in the soul, and it is said of any one 
 recently awakened to the concerns of eter- 
 nity, " She has become serious." And it 
 cannot be otherwise. Serious we must and 
 shall be, if we are sincere and earnest in 
 religion. Can a shipwrecked mariner 
 standing upon a sinking vessel ask without 
 earnestness, the question — What shall I 
 do to be saved ? Much less can a lost sin- 
 ner just awakened to see his danger and 
 become desirous of salvation, ask the same 
 momentous question without an intense 
 anxiety of mind. Here then religion be- 
 gins, in a clear perception of our sin both 
 
RELIGION. 79 
 
 by nature and practice ; a discovering 
 of our being in a fallen, ruined condition, in 
 consequence of our transgression of the 
 law of God ; a sense of just liability to the 
 wrath of God j a feeling of naked and de- 
 fenceless exposure to the storm of divine 
 indignation: and the necessary result of 
 this will be a solicitous state of mind, which 
 will render not only insipid, but distasteful, 
 the vain amusements and fashionable follies 
 of the world. 
 
 The next thing in real religion, and 
 which was conspicuous in the piety of 
 Clementine, is faith in our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, for pardon and acceptance with 
 God. Observe again her expressions — 
 " It is not God the Creator of the world 
 that we really love, but God the Saviour — 
 God who receives us graciously. The 
 sacrifice of Christ answers to all the wishes 
 and meets all the wants of my soul. For- 
 merly I vaguely assured myself that a 
 
80 NATURE OF 
 
 merciful God would pardon me, but now I 
 feel that I have obtained that pardon, that 
 I obtain it every moment, and that I expe- 
 rience inexpressible delight in seeking it at 
 the foot of the cross." " If £od grant you 
 patience," said a visitor to her during her 
 last illness, " he sees that you merit this 
 favour." " Hush," she replied with a most 
 expressive eagerness, "talk not of merit." 
 " Talk not of merit." O how much is ex- 
 pressed and taught in that one short sen- 
 tence. A sinner has no merit, can have 
 none, in the sight of God. How can he 1 
 As a sinner he merits punishment, and how 
 then can he merit pardon ? A just man 
 falsely charged with a crime, may merit 
 acquittal ; but how can a sinner, truly 
 charged with transgression, deserve or 
 merit pardon % The thing is absurd, for it is 
 a contradiction. If we are sinners, we de- 
 serve death ; and how then by any subse- 
 quent conduct of our own can we deserve 
 
RELIGION. 81 
 
 life % Even if that subsequent conduct were 
 absolutely perfect, yet inasmuch as we owe 
 it to God for the future, it could not merit 
 the pardon of past transgression. How 
 much less then can it be supposed we can 
 merit that pardon, when we are continually 
 sinning afresh every day. The best doings 
 of even the best of men, have some defects 
 or imperfection attending them ; surely 
 then no sinner can be saved by his own 
 merits. Hence the declarations of the 
 apostle, u Now we know that what things 
 soever the law saith, it saith to them that 
 are under the law ; that every mouth may 
 be stopped, and all the world become guilty 
 before God. Therefore by the deeds of 
 the law there shall no flesh be justified 
 in his sight ; for by the law is the know- 
 ledge of sin,"-— Romans, iii. 19, 20. " If 
 by grace, then it is no more of works ; 
 otherwise grace is no more grace," — Rom. 
 xi. 6. "By grace are ye saved through 
 6 
 
Otf NiTUBE OF 
 
 faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the 
 gift of God ; not of works, lest any man 
 boast," — Ephesians, ii. 8, 9. "Not by 
 works of righteousness which w T e have 
 done, but according to his mercy he saved 
 us," — Titus, iii. 5. In all these passages, 
 as well as through all the New Testament, 
 it is most explicitly declared, that man has 
 -•no merit, and cannot be pardoned and jus- 
 tified on the ground of his own works. Lei 
 him do what he may, as much as he may, 
 either before or after his conversion, either 
 with or without the help of God, he cannot 
 be accepted to the divine favour on the 
 ground of his own doings or sufferings. 
 The very idea that he has any merits of 
 his own, any goodness of nature or con- 
 duct that deserves for him, and will secure 
 to him, the favour of God and the pardon 
 of his sin, will prevent him from being 
 saved ; it will put salvation far from him, 
 and he cannot be accepted of God till he 
 
RELIGION. OS 
 
 has put it away. This notion was the sin 
 of the Jews as described by the apostle, 
 " For they being ignorant of God's right- 
 eousness, and going about to establish their 
 own righteousness, have not submitted 
 themselves unto the righteousness of God," 
 Romans, x. 3. This is self-righteousness, 
 and it is a state of mind which instead of 
 recommending us to God, is exceedingly 
 displeasing in his sight, for it insults his 
 justice in the law, and contemns his mercy 
 in the Gospel. 
 
 If then we cannot be justified by our 
 own works, how is this immensely import- 
 ant blessing to be obtained % The apostle 
 answers the question ; " Being justified by 
 faith, we have peace with God through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, by whom also we have 
 access by faith into this grace, wherein we 
 stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of 
 God," — Romans, v. 1, 2. To him that 
 worketh not, but believeth on him that jus- 
 
84 NATURE OF 
 
 tifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for 
 righteousness. Romans, iv. 5. " For Christ 
 is the end of the law for righteousness to 
 every one that believeth," — Romans, x. 4. 
 Behold then the way of salvation, the true 
 way, the only way, the sure way, the way 
 for all. " By grace are we saved 
 through faith." He that believeth shall 
 be saved. But what are we to believe ? 
 That we are lost and ruined sinners, de- 
 praved by nature and guilty of innumera- 
 ble actual transgressions; that we are 
 deserving of the wrath of God, and really 
 exposed to it on account of our sins ; that 
 God would be righteous in our destruc- 
 tion ; that in a way of mere favour and 
 undeserved mercy, he sent his Son to be a 
 propitiation through faith in his blood to 
 declare his righteousness, that he might be 
 just and the justifier of him that believeth 
 in Jesus; that he is now willing to receive 
 to his favour every sinner, not excepting 
 
RELIGION. OO 
 
 the chief; who comes to him through Jesus 
 Christ ; that our entire, sole, and habitual 
 dependance for pardon is to be on the mer- 
 cy of God, granted to us for the sak® of 
 the death of Christ : — this we are to be- 
 lieve with the heart, and so to believe as 
 to expect salvation, and to rejoice in hope 
 of the glory of God. Every hope, every 
 idea, every expectation of pardon, must 
 rest entirely upon Christ. Christ is the 
 procurer of our salvation, and faith is the 
 means of obtaining it from him ; Christ is 
 the only foundation, and faith is the only 
 way of resting upon that foundation ; Christ 
 is our righteousness, and faith unites us to 
 him, and makes that righteousness ours. 
 This, this is the religion of the New Tes- 
 tament — this was the religion of Clemen- 
 tine Cuvier — this is the religion of every 
 true Christian — and is the only religion 
 which will take any one to heavenly glory. 
 
ob NATURE OF 
 
 Connected with faith is regeneration, or 
 that New Birth which our Lord thus 
 declared to Nicodemus, * " Verily verily, 
 except a man be born of water and the 
 Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of 
 God," — John, iii. 5. This New Birth means 
 that entire spiritual change of our hearts 
 and conduct, which is wrought in us by 
 the Spirit of God, when our fallen and cor- 
 rupt nature is taken away, and a holy and 
 heavenly nature is given in its place. The 
 whole bent and bias of the will is now 
 changed, because the taste and disposition 
 of the heart are changed ; and, to use the 
 emphatic language of the apostle, the sub- 
 ject of his great moral renovation becomes 
 a new creature; old things are passed away 
 and all things are made new. His nature 
 is changed, and not merely his conduct. 
 His tastes, his pursuits, his judgments are 
 altered. His outward actions are but the 
 expressions of inward feelings. He ima- 
 
RELIGION. 87 
 
 glnes, thinks, feels, purposes, fears, hopes, 
 rejoices, and sorrows differently to what he 
 did. Such is the New Birth, and it is an 
 essential part of real religion; there can be 
 no religion without it. Nor is this neces- 
 sary only for some persons, the vicious and 
 immoral for instance, but for all, — not ex- 
 cepting the amiable, the moral, and the 
 virtuous. The latter as much need to be 
 born again as the former. The New Birth 
 was as necessary for the lovely Clementine, 
 as the odious and execrable Robespierre. 
 No degrees of natural virtue can raise any 
 human being above the necessity of a spir- 
 itual change, for all are sinners and all must 
 be renewed. 
 
 And can this be done without earnest- 
 ness, intense earnestness ? No. It begins 
 in seeing and feeling that we are exposed 
 to the condemnation of Almighty God, 
 and it proceeds in urging the inquiry, 
 " What shall I do to be saved ? " Many 
 
88 NATURE OF 
 
 go to church, or chapel, all their lives, 
 and yet have no religion, for they have 
 no clear views of their sin, no fear of wrath 
 to come, no heartfelt solicitude after sal- 
 vation. 
 
 Another characteristic of true religion, 
 and of the religion of this young disciple, 
 is supreme love to God ; and what is any 
 religion but a name, where this is wanting? 
 " This is the first and great commandment, 
 Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
 thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all 
 thy mind," — Matt. xxii. " She felt she 
 must love an infinite object. 71 And how 
 this love was produced, she tells in another 
 place, — " The heart only feels real love to 
 God as it embraces the mysteries of the 
 Gospel. The mercy of God in his love for 
 sinful creatures, is manifested in an admi- 
 rable manner and degree, in the work of 
 redemption ; and where that redemption is 
 embraced, the heart must be regenerated, 
 
RELIGION. 89 
 
 and consequently filled with love and gra- 
 titude to the Saviour." This is very true : 
 we shall never love God, and consequently 
 never have true religion, till we believe the 
 love God has to us ; for, says the Apostle, 
 " We love him because he first loved us." 
 Religion, then, and it cannot be repeated 
 too often, is, to love God supremely and 
 practically, so as to delight in his holy, just, 
 and merciful character, to obey his com- 
 mandments, to approach him in the spirit of 
 adoption, and to seek to please him in all 
 our ways. This accords with the language 
 of St. Paul, — " In Jesus Christ, neither cir- 
 cumcision availeth any thing, nor uncir- 
 cumcision, but faith which icorketh by 
 love" — Gal. v. 6. He that would under- 
 stand what is the religion of the New 
 Testament, the religion that is acceptable 
 to God, the religion that will make him 
 happy, that will wean him from the world, 
 that will comfort him in death, that will take 
 
90 NATURE 0? 
 
 him to heaven, let him study till he under- 
 stand it, this short but beautiful compendium 
 of it, faith that worketh by love, for it is 
 all included in this. 
 
 Having described very briefly to you the 
 nature of religion, it may be of great im- 
 portance to guard you against some other 
 things which resemble it, but which are 
 only its resemblances. There may be a 
 constitutional dread of God, as of some 
 awful power whom it is dangerous to of- 
 fend, who is rather an object of aversion 
 than of love, delight, and confidence, and 
 whom it is desirable to propitiate in some 
 way or other, as we would a malevolent 
 being who had our destiny at command. 
 This is not religion. There is an educa- 
 tional reverence for Him, which, though it 
 keeps its subject from all scoffing at sacred 
 things, all ridicule or persecution of pious 
 people, and leads him to manifest something 
 of respect for religious places, and services, 
 
RELIGION. 91 
 
 is yet unaccompanied by true repentance, 
 faith in Christ, and supreme love to God, 
 Nor is this religion. Superstitious awe, 
 the awe which comes over the mind at the 
 grave, where all men are serious in spite 
 of themselves ; or during the solemn explo- 
 sions of a tempest, when the imagination 
 seems to recognise God's voice in the thun- 
 der, and the flashes of his eyes in the light- 
 nings ; or which seizes the soul during the 
 solemn stillness of midnight, when deep sleep 
 falleth upon man, and there is silence, and 
 the image of the invisible One, the Spiri 
 of him who maketh darkness his pavilion, 
 passeth before us ; this, though it cause 
 fear and trembling, is not true piety. Nor 
 is it a mere religious sensibility, a senti- 
 mental, imaginative emotion, which is 
 awakened by the aid of pictures and carved 
 work speaking to the eye on sacred sub- 
 jects, or is produced by the power of music 
 and poetry addressing *the ear ; nor is it 
 
92 NATURE OF 
 
 the effect of the imposing pomp of Gothic 
 architecture, either whole or in ruins, 
 stealing over the senses, and disposing the 
 mind to pensive, devotional, and solemn 
 melancholy. All these may exist and yet 
 there may be no true piety ; nothing but a 
 spurious pretence, which is so different 
 from real godliness, as scarcely to be called 
 a resemblance. 
 
 Nor must I omit to caution you against 
 another pretender to religion, more specious 
 than the things just mentioned, but not 
 more deserving of the name of true piety : 
 I mean that admiration of the power, wis- 
 dom, and beneficence of the Creator, in 
 which science indulges as it surveys the 
 proofs of benevolent intelligence, with which 
 the universe is replete. It is not, it cannot 
 be my intention to depreciate the advan- 
 tages of science, nor to repress the adoring 
 wonder and delight with which it connects 
 the works that are seen and made, with a 
 
RELIGION. 93 
 
 divine artificer. — Such books as Paley's 
 Natural Theology, and the Bridge water 
 Treatises, may be read with instruction 
 and advantage by all ; but it is never to be 
 forgotten, that it is by revealed, and not by 
 natural religion that the sinner is to be 
 saved. It is Christianity, and not deism, 
 that will take us to heaven. The whole ma- 
 terial universe with all its wonders, cannot 
 tell us for certain whether the soul of man 
 is immortal, or whether sin can be pardon- 
 ed. It is the book of Scripture, not the 
 book of nature, that must be studied to gain 
 an answer to the question, "What must I 
 do to be saved ? " Hence it is clear, that 
 it is not mere science, however profound, no, 
 nor is it even the professedly profound ad- 
 miration of the Creator to which, in some 
 cases it leads, that will save the soul ; but 
 those sentiments of repentance, faith, hu- 
 mility, holiness, and dependence, which are 
 to be obtained from the word of God. 
 
94 NATURE OF 
 
 Many a man, who has been willing to act 
 High Priest in the temple of Natural Reli- 
 gion, and to conduct its ceremonies, has re- 
 fused in the pride of his intellect to bow 
 before the Christian altar, and to approach 
 by faith the blood sprinkled throne of grace. 
 Let no one mistake then the raptures with 
 which he gazes upon the beautiful scenes 
 of nature ; the sublime elevation of soul 
 with which he surveys the bespangled 
 heavens by night, or the blue sky, the vast 
 ocean, and the varied prospect by day, for 
 genuine devotion. It is all mere poetry, 
 but not piety, if penitence and faith in 
 Christ, and love to a holy God be absent. 
 It is God in Christ, God reconciling the 
 world to himself, God the just and the 
 justifier of him that believeth in Jesus, and 
 not merely God the Creator, that is the ob- 
 ject of homage to a true Christian. The 
 religion that will save us is the religion of 
 the cross ; the religion of a broken heart 
 
SELII 
 
 95 
 
 •and contrite spirit ; the religion that is dai- 
 ly fed by the sincere milk of the word ; that 
 is sustained by prayer and meditation ; 
 that sinks in the dust and ashes, and rises 
 to set its affections on things that are above, 
 where Christ sitteth on the right hand of 
 God : — and such was the religion of Cle- 
 mentine Cuvier. 
 
 But look now at the effects and con- 
 sequences of religion as they appeared in 
 Clementine. Trace them in her usefulness. 
 See her like her divine Saviour, ever going 
 about to do good, greeted wherever she 
 went by the smiles of gratitude with which 
 her compassion lighted up the countenance 
 of sadness, and the tears of joy which her 
 beneficence drew from the eye that was 
 darkened with despair. Where in all the 
 theatres, the ball rooms, and soirees of 
 Paris, could there have been found among 
 the daughters of fashion one to whom the 
 wretched owed so much as to her ? A love 
 
96 EFFECTSOF 
 
 of pleasure withers the affections of the 
 heart from the needy, like the east-wind 
 the leaves of the flower ; it is religion that 
 like a summer's sun causes them to expand 
 and shed their reviving fragrance. To do 
 good is God-like, both in communicating 
 blessedness and experiencing it too ; and 
 there is no good so wide in its comprehen- 
 sion of benefits, nor so lasting in its dura- 
 tion, as that which we do for the spiritual 
 interests of our fellow- creatures. Huma- 
 nity smooths the passage of man to the 
 sepulchre, but the religious benevolence 
 which aims to convert a sinner from the 
 error of his ways, and save a soul from 
 death, seeks to confer the boon of a glori- 
 ous resurrection to eternal life. Think not 
 that I am advising you to withhold your 
 efforts from attempting to relieve the tem- 
 poral necessities of your fellow-creatures. 
 The Saviour of the world, while achieving 
 the sublimer object of saving the soul, 
 
RELIGION. 97 
 
 thought it not beneath his mercy, or un- 
 worthy of his dignity, to bestow ease and 
 comfort upon the body. He fed the hun- 
 gry, healed the sick, gave sight to the 
 blind ; in short, he had an ear to listen to 
 every tale of wo, and a hand to dispense 
 every kind of benefit. Imitate his exam- 
 ple. Where is woman seen to best ad- 
 vantage, invested with her greatest charms, 
 and shining in her purest radiance? Not 
 in the gay circles of fashion, dazzling by 
 the elegance of her dress, the beauty of her 
 person, and the vivacity of her conversa- 
 tion; the object of envy to one sex, and of 
 flattery and admiration to the other. O 
 no ! but in the chamber of sickness, a min- 
 istering angel to the sufferer, stripping pov- 
 erty of its terrors, and assuaging the vio- 
 lence of pain, by efforts of kindness which 
 none can perform as she can ; in the hovel 
 of want, carrying a supply, or that which 
 7 
 
98 RELIGION MAKES 
 
 shall procure it, for the poor destitute crea- 
 ture, who is 
 
 " Faint and desponding of to-morrow's bread : " 
 
 in the alms-house, binding up the heart of 
 her that had seen better days, and whose 
 spirits, broken at the recollection, revive 
 for one short hour, under the sunshine of 
 her affability and kindness. These are the 
 brightest scenes of female honour and hap- 
 piness too. On these visits of mercy she 
 is watched, not only by the smiles of ap- 
 proving angels, but also of an approving 
 God ; while the testimony of a good con- 
 science, attests the deeds of her benefi- 
 cence. 
 
 But there is, I repeat, a holier kind of 
 mercy, a more comprehensive and endur- 
 ing kind of charity still, which she can 
 perform ; I mean mercy to the soul, which 
 is the soul of mercy. The soul, the soul.! 
 What a word is that ! the immaterial sub- 
 
US USEFUL. 99 
 
 stance, the rational mind, the immortal 
 principle ! " What is a man profited if he 
 shall gain the whole world, and lose his 
 own soul : or what shall a man give in ex- 
 change for his soul?" — Matthew, xvi. 26. 
 This is the language of him that best 
 knows the value of the world, for he made 
 it, and of the soul, for he redeemed it ; 
 and who could not therefore appreciate the 
 soul at too high, or the world at too low a 
 price. The salvation of immortal souls is 
 the chief object of the infinite benevolence 
 of God, the centre of his schemes, and 
 the consummation of his works ; it is that 
 for which the Son of God became incarnate 
 and died upon the cross ; for which the 
 Holy Spirit is poured out from on high ; 
 for which the Bible was penned by inspira- 
 tion ; and the whole apparatus of religious 
 ordinances was constructed ; which moves 
 the admiration of heaven, and excites the 
 envy and rage of hell. In this great work 
 
100 RELIGION MAKES 
 
 you are invited to co-operate, and thus is 
 the opportunity given to you to enter into 
 fellowship with the Father, and his Son 
 Jesus Christ. Yes, there is something 
 which you may do, without starting from 
 your sphere, or violating the delicacy of 
 female modesty, or usurping the functions 
 of official service. Like the lovely and 
 benevolent Clementine, you may superin- 
 tend or aid the education of the young and 
 untaught poor : you can carry the religious 
 Tract to the abode of female ignorance; 
 you can read the Scriptures to the poor and 
 aged of your own sex j or you can visit 
 them in their sickness, and speak words of 
 instruction and consolation in their ear ; 
 and you can also aid the operations of Bi- 
 ble and Missionary Associations in com- 
 pany with, and under the direction of 
 matronly friends. In all these ways you 
 may do good, and thus, in the only true 
 sense of the words, may labour for immor- 
 
US HAPPY. 101 
 
 tality. You may do something in diffusing 
 that holy light, which in this extraordinary 
 age is spreading like the dawn of a spiri- 
 tual day over the face of a benighted 
 world. The voice has gone forth from the 
 throne of the Redeemer, " Behold I create 
 all things new." And you, each of you, 
 that shall read this book, are invited to 
 assist in the great and glorious renovation. 
 
 You should observe the moral signs of 
 the times, and notice the features of the 
 age in which it is your destiny to live. — 
 They are of deep interest, and of a deeper 
 importance. The wintry age of the world 
 is going by, and the principle of spiritual 
 fertility is beginning to show itself in the 
 sprouting verdure, and swelling buds of 
 spring, that are to be seen on every hand. 
 You ought to see this, and to feel that you 
 should do something in preparing for the 
 beauties of summer, and the harvests of 
 autumn. Human life has now acquired 
 
102 RELIGION MAKES 
 
 additional value as it respects society and 
 posterity, and selfish indolence a deeper 
 criminality. A spirit of holy enterprise is 
 the spirit of the age. Every thing is 
 replete with energy ; nothing is dull or 
 stagnant. The heavens seem full of voices, 
 and the earth of motion. Nor are the 
 agents and emissaries of evil torpid and 
 quiescent. All the hosts of darkness are 
 marshalling to meet all the forces of hea- 
 ven in the valley of decision. At home 
 and abroad the principles of truth are com- 
 ing into closer conflict with those of error. 
 It is a contest about the world's salvation ; 
 and we know the result. The hand of 
 prophecy has drawn aside the veil that 
 hangs over the future, and disclosed to us 
 all the nations of the earth reposing in 
 peace and happiness under the sceptre of 
 Christ. Set your hand to the work. — 
 Every thing invites to action, and appeals 
 to your ambition. Many voices from many 
 
us happy* 103 
 
 quarters say to you, "Do something ; do 
 it, do it" Disregard the sneers of the 
 scoffer, and the suggestions of the timid. 
 Happily you are not in want of means, in- 
 struments, and companions. Benevolent 
 exertion has become fashionable, and 
 though it should not be taken up for the 
 sake of fashion, yet this is an additional 
 incentive and encouragement. Many oi 
 your own age, and sex, and rank, are at 
 work in doing good, and inviting you to be- 
 come their co-workers. Accept their in- 
 vitation. It is no less your felicity than 
 your duty. He that lives only for his own 
 gratification, has the pleasure derived from 
 only one person's enjoyment ; but he that 
 lives for the welfare of others, multiplies 
 his bliss by the number of the objects of his 
 mercy : he expands the sphere of his en- 
 joyment till it fills that of his benevolence, 
 and where he cannot be gratified by consi- 
 dering what he has done, he is pleased to 
 
104 RELIGION MAKES 
 
 think of what he attempted to do ; and even 
 finds consolation in his wishes, when they, 
 as is often the case, outstrip his attempts. 
 
 We cannot tell all the reasons why an 
 infinitely holy, wise, and good God, has 
 permitted evil to exist : but one of them 
 doubtless is, that we should be put upon our 
 probation in contending against it in faith, 
 hope, and charity, and thus both prove and 
 strengthen our own piety, by engaging in 
 the contest ; and one great part of the mis- 
 sion of every man on earth is, to contend 
 with evil in some of its forms. Young 
 people should know this as they enter upon 
 existence, and never forget it as they jour- 
 ney onward through a region crowded as 
 this is with ignorance, crime, and wretch- 
 edness. It is a noble ambition, and de- 
 manded of us all, both by heaven and the 
 supplications of a groaning earth, to leave 
 the world holier and happier than we found 
 it. 
 
US HAPPY. 
 
 105 
 
 Compare, in moments of sober thought, 
 the pleasures of worldly amusements with 
 those of benevolence, and say which are to 
 be preferred. I will allow that the votary 
 of fashionable enjoyments has her agree- 
 able anticipations and reflections ; and I can 
 fancy her sometimes looking back upon 
 a round of occupations, with some such 
 thoughts as the following, — " On such a 
 night I was at the rout ; how brilliant was 
 the party, how tasteful and varied the en- 
 tertainments, how agreeable the evening. 
 Little, if at all inferior to this was the con- 
 cert, that followed a few nights afterwards : 
 what exquisite music, and how enchanting 
 the singing. And then, the crown of all, 
 the assembly ; what elegant company, and 
 what spirited dancing ! My ambition was 
 gratified to the uttermost, I never enjoyed 
 myself more. All this, I hope, will soon 
 be repeated, and then I shall scarcely 
 envy any one." 
 
106 RELIGION MAKES 
 
 Listen now to the reflections of benevo- 
 lence. " O God, I thank thee for putting 
 it into my heart to do good to my fellow- 
 creatures, and for bestowing upon me, by 
 thy grace, the bliss of making others 
 happy. I have beheld the dark scenes of 
 human wo lightened up with joy at my 
 approach, and the children of sorrow smil- 
 ing through their tears in my presence. 
 When the ear heard me it blessed me, and 
 when the eye saw me it gave witness to 
 me. The blessing of him that was ready 
 to perish came upon me, and I caused the 
 widow's heart to sing for joy. I have been 
 made the instrument of guiding ignorant 
 children to the fountains of knowledge ; of 
 introducing the Bible to families, where not 
 even a stray beam of divine truth had ever 
 before entered ; of directing to the house 
 of God those feet that had wandered per- 
 petually in the Sabbath-breaker's path. I 
 have seen the tears of penitence flow down 
 
US HAPPY. 107 
 
 the cheek of the once hardened transgres- 
 sor; I have been the delighted, graceful 
 witness of the beauty of holiness adorning 
 the character which was once deformed by 
 the enormities of vice, and have seen a 
 hope full of immortality sparkle in the eye 
 that was beginning to close in death. O 
 who that had ever seen the joy, and 
 received the thanks of a sinner converted 
 by her efforts from the error of his ways, 
 the acknowledgment of a soul saved from 
 death, would doubt the infinite superiority 
 of the pleasures of benevolence over those 
 of fashionable amusements'? I bless Thee, 
 O God, that thou hast caused me to ex- 
 change the one for the other." 
 
 Nor is this all. The fruits of holy zeal 
 and of religious compassion will be gather- 
 ed in another world. In communicating 
 the knowledge and principles of divine 
 truth, we are sowing seed of which the har- 
 vest will be reaped in eternity, and through 
 
108 EDUCATION 
 
 / 
 
 it. What we do for the mere temporal 
 comfort of mankind is mortal, but what we 
 do for their spiritual welfare is immortal. 
 If we become the instruments of saving but 
 one soul from death, we start an immortal 
 mind, a glorified spirit, in a career where 
 we shall see it going on from strength to 
 strength, adding knowledge to knowledge, 
 holiness to holiness, happiness to happiness, 
 making approaches to goodness and bliss 
 which are all but infinite, for ever adorn- 
 ing the heavens with new beauties, and 
 brightening with the splendour of moral 
 glory through all the ages of eternity. 
 Then God shall behold this his new crea- 
 ture for ever beautifying in his eyes, for 
 ever drawing near to himself, yet still dis- 
 tant from his own infinite and absolute per- 
 fection. There is something so transcend- 
 ent and ineffable in this, as to satisfy, and 
 nothing less will satisfy, the lofty ambition 
 of religious benevolence. Such is the prize 
 
FOR HEAVEN. 109 
 
 held out to all, who having sought salvation 
 to themselves, are anxious to do something 
 for the salvation of others. It will be 
 found true by all who make the experi- 
 ment, that great efforts of benevolence, 
 carried on under pure motives of sincere 
 piety, are the best definition of a happy 
 life. 
 
 It may be next mentioned as one of the 
 great excellences of religion, and one of 
 the proofs of its incalculable value, that it 
 is the only acquirement that can be con- 
 sidered an education for heaven. Des- 
 tined as you are, Reader, to fill a station 
 and act a part on earth, your friends do 
 wisely in securing for you all the advan- 
 tages of the best education they can obtain. 
 Your knowledge cannot be too various or 
 too great, provided the useful is blended 
 with the ornamental : nor is it much to 
 your credit if you are not ever seeking to 
 build upon the foundation that was laid at 
 
110 EDUCATION 
 
 school. Cultivate a love of knowledge, a 
 taste for reading, a spirit of acquisition ; 
 for you may hereafter turn to good ac- 
 count all you accumulate. Remember, 
 however, that could you acquire all useful 
 and all ornamental knowledge ; could you 
 add literature to science, and polish all 
 with the most perfect finish of elegant man- 
 ners, — this, in the absence of true religion, 
 would leave you as uneducated and unfit 
 for heaven, as the savage of the woods. 
 For what is heaven, and in what does its 
 happiness consist ? It is not a state of 
 sensual existence, for the body of resurrec- 
 tion is a spiritual one ; the gratifications 
 of appetite, the pleasures of our animal 
 nature, have no place there. The objects 
 which now gratify the taste of the lovers 
 of pleasure, have no existence in heaven. 
 Nor is it a mere social state of being, 
 where friends and lovers, parents and chil- 
 dren, meet to part no more, and blend in 
 
FOR HEAVEN. Ill 
 
 all the delights of renewed intercourse. 
 Nor is it a mere intellectual state, where 
 science will be attained in its highest per- 
 fection, and natural religion be carried to 
 its loftiest height. It is true we shall know 
 all things, and the laws of the universe, the 
 whole range of nature among them : but 
 this is not the view the Scriptures give us 
 of heaven, and we know nothing of heaven 
 but what the Scriptures do teach us. Hea- 
 ven is a state of holy existence, combined 
 with that which is intellectual, and all its 
 happiness is holy too. It is the dwelling- 
 place of a holy God, the holy Saviour, holy 
 angels, and holy men. It is the very ele- 
 ment of holiness : the native place and 
 final home of religion. The happiness of 
 heaven must be like itselfj a holy happi- 
 ness, a religious felicity. It will arise from 
 being in the presence of God, and behold- 
 ing his glory ; from being like him, loving, 
 serving, resembling, enjoying him, and the 
 
112 EDUCATION 
 
 consciousness of being beloved by him. 
 Hence, said Christ, " Father, I will that 
 they whom thou hast given me be with me 
 where I am, that they may behold my 
 glory," — John, xvii. 24. The apostle Paul, 
 in prospect of dissolution, said, " I desire to 
 depart, and to be with Christ," — Phil. i. 
 23. He also represented it to others as 
 the very essence of heavenly bliss. " So 
 shall we be ever with the Lord," — 1 Thes. 
 iv. 18. The description of the apostle 
 John is also to the same effect. " It doth 
 not yet appear what we shall be, but we 
 know that when he (Christ) shall appear, 
 we shall be like him, for we shall see him 
 as he is," — 1 John, iii. 2. 
 
 It is evident, then, that if this be the na- 
 ture of heaven, there must be a meetness 
 for it, a preparation, an education; and 
 that the education must be appropriate. If 
 heaven be a religious state, then religion 
 can be the only education. What conceiv- 
 
FOR HEAVEN. 113 
 
 able relation have any of the branches of a 
 literary, scientific, or elegant course of 
 study, to a lioly state of existence ? Is a 
 person fitted to enjoy the presence of God, 
 or to love and serve him ; prepared to join, 
 in the adoration of our Redeemer, and 
 meetened to blend in the holy intercourse 
 of saints and angels by a knowledge of the 
 languages, or an acquaintance with natural 
 history, or skill in the elegant arts, or 
 the highest polish and grace of manners? 
 These acquirements are a suitable educa- 
 tion for earth, but what possible connexion 
 can they have with the enjoyment of spirits 
 in glory? To love God in perfection is 
 the perfection of heavenly bliss, and there- 
 fore the love of God on earth is the only 
 preparation for such a state. God in him- 
 self, viewed apart from his works, is the 
 first truth and chief good, and it will be 
 the occupation and felicity of the blessed 
 
 8 
 
114 EDUCATIO N 
 
 through eternity, to know, love, and enjoy 
 himself as such. 
 
 Thus was Clementine educated under 
 the effectual teaching of the Holy Spirit, 
 •for the enjoyment of the Divine presence. 
 Her attainments in profound science, and 
 in all feminine and elegant accomplish- 
 ments, were far beyond those of most of 
 her sex. Under such a father as hers it 
 may well be supposed, how carefully her 
 mind was cultivated, and with what success. 
 Had this, however, been all, what would it 
 have availed her ? She lived not to diffuse 
 the knowledge she had acquired. The 
 care of her parents, the skill of her teach- 
 ers, and her own assiduity, to prepare her 
 for her station, were all bestowed on the 
 culture of a flower, that was only for a 
 very short time to display its beauty, and 
 shed its fragrance upon earth, and then 
 wither and die ; they trained a pupil that 
 was not long to employ the knowledge ac- 
 
FOR HEAVEN. 115 
 
 cumulated in her highly-gifted mind. But 
 all this while she was growing in grace 
 and knowledge in the school of Christ; 
 training under an infallible teacher, to bear 
 a part in the occupations and felicities of 
 the skies. " What sweetness is there," 
 she said, "in the thought of that eternal 
 life — of that state of rest and love. There 
 we shall comprehend those delightful words 
 of our Saviour, " I go to prepare a place 
 for you, that where I am you may be also." 
 My youthful Reader, let me implore you 
 to keep this sentiment in view, that what- 
 ever and whoever may educate you for 
 earth, you must have the teaching of the 
 Holy Spirit, and be made a partaker of 
 true religion, if you would be educated for 
 heaven. In the absence of this, all your 
 other acquirements, however varied or per- 
 fect, will be but as the garland, beautiful 
 and fragrant as it may be, that adorns the 
 victim led forth to the sacrifice. 
 
116 RELIGION THE 
 
 The momentous importance and trans- 
 cendent excellence of religion, are no less 
 clearly proved by the indubitable fact, that 
 
 IT IS THE GREAT END OF LIFE : if not, 
 
 Clementine Cuvier lived in vain. She 
 saw every thing that was desirable in the 
 world before her, but was permitted to 
 touch nothing. The lovely vision of a 
 happy life on earth illumined her path, but 
 vanished as she gazed upon it : and but for 
 her religion, it may be truly said, she was 
 born only to disappoint, and be disappoint- 
 ed. How often do we see, as in this case, 
 a young person, who, when her education 
 is completed, and she is prepared to bless, 
 and to be blessed ; when she is just fitted 
 to become the grace and ornament of her 
 circle, is cut down like a flower in spring, 
 on which the gardener had bestowed his 
 greatest care, and which is taken from him 
 just as its full blown beauty is about to re- 
 ward his labour, and become the pride of 
 
END OF LIFE. 117 
 
 his green-house. Many a youth, on whose 
 education no pains nor expense had been 
 spared, and whose diligence has well re- 
 warded the anxiety of his friends, is removed 
 by death, just at the very time when he is 
 entering on public life, amidst the high- 
 raised expectations which his talents have 
 awakened. If there be no future state, 
 how just would be the exclamation of the 
 Psalmist over such withered blossoms as 
 these, " Wherefore hast thou made men 
 in vain V 1 If, however, there be, and we 
 know there is, a future state, to which this 
 is only preliminary and preparatory, none 
 have lived in vain, if they have lived long 
 enough to be made partakers of true reli- 
 gion. There is an eternity of happiness 
 ever awaiting the Christian beyond the 
 grave, and faith, love, and holiness, are 
 the preparatives for it ; and she who has 
 attained these, has answered the end of 
 her existence, and lived for noble purpose, 
 
118 RELIGION THE 
 
 let her die at what age, or go away from 
 what scenes, or what prospects she may. 
 She may die too soon for others, but not 
 for herself. She has lived long enough to 
 ensure glory, honour, immortality, and 
 eternal life; and all that she has lost, 
 or can lose, by going away early to hea- 
 ven, is but what the child who has finished 
 her education loses, by being removed ear- 
 lier than usual from her school pleasures, 
 to the richer enjoyments of her father's 
 house. Religion secures to us the great 
 end of life, and makes it worth while either 
 to live to extreme old age, amidst the great- 
 est poverty and destitution, or to die amidst 
 the vigour of youth, and the most brilliant 
 illusions of hope. Weep not, then, for 
 Clementine, when you think of her early 
 removal from such flattering prospects, for 
 though she went from much on earth, she 
 went to infinitely more in heaven. Even to 
 Iter, death was gain ; she had secured the 
 
END OF LIFE. 119 
 
 crown of glory that fadcth not away, to 
 which the bridal chaplet would have added 
 but little, and yielded only a few years of 
 mortal joys, and those would have been 
 taken from the sublime and purer joys of 
 immortality. 
 
 Reader, have you ever asked yourself 
 the question, What is the end of my ex- 
 istence ? For what purpose did the Creator 
 send me into the world ? If you have not, 
 it is high time you should. You may be 
 young, and on that account it is the more 
 proper, in some respects, that you should 
 urge these interrogations upon yourself. 
 When life is beginning, it becomes you, as 
 you are setting out upon its journey, to in- 
 quire for what purpose it is to be under- 
 taken, and whither it will lead. It must 
 come to an end soon, and may come to an 
 end suddenly. Conceive of the catastrophe 
 of having misunderstood the end of exist- 
 ence ! What a mistake ! A mistake never 
 
120 RELIGION THE 
 
 to be rectified, since we can live but once. 
 Do then inquire what, amidst many inferior 
 ends, is the one great object, which having 
 gained, we have secured the main purpose 
 of our creation, miss what else, lose what 
 else, or die when we may; and which, hav- 
 ing neglected, we have lived in vain, even 
 though we have accumulated all things be- 
 sides. It cannot be wealth, rank, fame, know- 
 ledge, pleasure, for they are so uncertain as 
 to our obtaining or holding them, and so 
 unsatisfying in their nature ; we may be so 
 very soon and so suddenly taken from 
 them by death, and they have so little con- 
 nexion with, and such an unfriendly influ- 
 ence upon our eternal happiness, that it 
 would be an offence against the wisdom 
 and benevolence of God, to suppose that he 
 intended these should be the main object of 
 human life. No. He has himself told us 
 his design in creating us and sending us 
 into the world, in the following passages of 
 
END OF LIFE. 121 
 
 his word. " Get wisdom, (religion) get 
 understanding: forget it not. Wisdom is 
 the principal thing ; therefore get wisdom; 
 and with all thy getting, get understand- 
 ing," — Prov. iv. 6, 7. "Seek ye first the 
 kingdom of God, and his righteousness, 
 and all these things shall be added unto 
 3 7 ou," — Matthew, vi. 33. " One thing is 
 needful, and Mary hath chosen that good 
 part which shall not be taken away from 
 her," — Luke, x. 42. These passages decide 
 the question, and point out true piety as 
 the end of the Creator in placing us on 
 earth. We are here on a probation for 
 eternity ; on trial for heaven : so that we 
 are not only fearfully and wonderfully 
 made, but far more fearfully and wonder- 
 fully placed ; and it is melancholy to see 
 the multitude, notwithstanding these ex- 
 plicit declarations of God, who must know 
 his own design in creating us, forgetting, 
 neglecting, and opposing his merciful in- 
 
122 RELIGION THE 
 
 tentions, and living only for the present 
 world. How inexpressibly painful is it to 
 see them wearing out life, coming to its 
 close, and quitting it forever, in total obliv- 
 ion of the great purpose for which it was 
 granted. 
 
 So certainly is religion the great end of 
 life, that it may be truly affirmed of all 
 who die without it, that however long they 
 have lived, or whatever, in other respects, 
 they have attended to, they have lived in 
 vain. Howevar they may have spent their 
 time, it is, as to its higher purpose, all lost. 
 Whatever they have been engaged in, 
 they have done nothing ; but have been 
 ingeniously trifling, laboriously idle, and in- 
 dustriously negligent. They may have 
 gained much ; much knowledge, wealth, 
 reputation, comfort, pleasure ; but they 
 have been losing all the while, infinitely 
 more than they have gained, for they have 
 lost their soul. They have been busily 
 
END OF LIFE. 123 
 
 employed in building up their earthly for- 
 tunes, but they have been no less busy in 
 pulling down their immortal interests. 
 They may have gained a name and a 
 place in the temple of fame, but they have 
 lost infinitely more reputation with God 
 than they have gained with men. They 
 may have lived for the temporal good of 
 all nations and all posterity, but they have 
 neglected to live for their own eternal 
 good ; and therefore, in every view of the 
 case, they have lived below, infinitely be- 
 low, the ends of their Creator in their ex- 
 istence ; and if they had right views of 
 their mistake at the last, they would go 
 down to the grave, though laden with years, 
 and riches, and honours, uttering the melan- 
 choly confession, " Life, with me, has been 
 a lost adventure ! " 
 
 With all the earnestness then of which 
 I am capable, let me implore you to in- 
 quire, if you have taken a right view of 
 
124 RELIGION THE 
 
 this momentous subject, and to examine 
 whether you have made any thing else 
 than religion the great object of your pur- 
 suit. If so, it is not, happily, yet too late 
 to correct the error. You have now learned, 
 if not before, the sublime and merciful 
 purpose of God in sending you upon earth, 
 even the salvation of your immortal soul. 
 Be thankful for the information. Rise and 
 contemplate the prospects before you, and 
 the work assigned to you. Look before you. 
 Consider your destiny. Be this your pur- 
 pose, to "seek first the kingdom of right- 
 eousness : " — and be this your prayer, 
 " Teach me, O Lord, the way of thy sta- 
 tutes : make me to go in the path of thy 
 commandments : and turn away mine eyes 
 from beholding vanity."* 
 
 I now exhibit religion to you in another 
 view of its excellence, as yielding to its 
 
 * See the sentiment of this part of the subject 
 beautifully illustrated in the appendix. 
 
WAY TO HAPPINESS. 125 
 
 possessor the most substantial happiness ! 
 
 Yes, happiness ! and it is a delusion of the 
 Father of Lies, to represent it otherwise. 
 It is a very common, but certainly a 
 very great error, to consider religion some- 
 what in the light of a necessary evil ; a 
 something to be endured, but not to be en- 
 joyed ; which is to be regarded with dread, 
 rather than contemplated with desire ; a 
 scheme of penance, but not an act of choice, 
 intended to conciliate an angry Deity, ra- 
 ther than to please a God of love ! in 
 short, a gloomy obstruction to the joys of 
 our social existence, which is to be avoided 
 as long as possible, and then only resort- 
 ed to when those joys can be no longer 
 experienced, and resorted to even then, 
 merely as a propitiation for the sins of one 
 world, and a means of delivering us from 
 the torments of another. Mistaken and 
 shocking idea ! How contrary, not only 
 to the Word of God, which declares it, 
 
126 RELIGION THE 
 
 but also to the experience of those who 
 have proved it, to be a peace that passeth 
 understanding, a joy unspeakable and full 
 of glory. 
 
 You have thought, because you have 
 been told, that on the contrary, it is a state 
 of gloom and melancholy. But who told 
 you so? Who and what are the persons 
 that have brought this ill report upon it, 
 and have dared to contradict the testimony 
 of God, whose holy word has pronounced 
 it to be a way of pleasantness, and a path 
 of peace? Are they the persons who 
 have tried it, and who, therefore, speak 
 from experience ? No ! bat they are in- 
 dividuals, who, never having given them- 
 selves up to its influence, are no better 
 judges of its excellence^than he who has no 
 palate, is of the sweetness of honey. You 
 should hearken to the testimony of those 
 who are pious, myriads of whom are from 
 palaces and mansions, as well as from cot- 
 
WAY TO HAPPINESS. 127 
 
 tages; amidst wealth, rank, and splendour, 
 as well as poverty ; in the bright day of 
 prosperity, as well as the dark night of ad- 
 versity ; surrounded by the gay scenes of 
 a garden of Eden, as well as the dreary va- 
 cancy of the wilderness, have declared that 
 till they yielded their hearts to the influence 
 of religion, they knew not what happiness 
 was. Thousands of youth, with all the 
 sources of worldly amusement at command, 
 and all the spring of fashionable gaiety 
 flowing around them, have turned away 
 disappointed and disgusted, to seek their 
 bliss, and \\&vq found it too, in the service 
 of God. 
 
 But I refer you again to the testimony 
 of this beautiful young woman : " I expe- 
 rience a pleasure," she said, in a letter to a 
 friend, " in reading my Bible, which I have 
 never felt before ; it attracts and fixes me 
 to an inconceivable degree, and I seek sin- 
 cerely there, and only there, the truth. 
 
128 RELIGION THE 
 
 When I compare the calm and the peace 
 which the smallest and most imperceptible 
 grain of faith gives to the soul, with all 
 that the world alone can give of joy or 
 happiness, I feel that the least in the king- 
 dom of heaven is a hundred times more 
 blessed than the greatest and most elevated 
 of the men of the icorld." Striking testi- 
 mony, and the more striking on account of 
 the source from whence it comes. This is 
 not a voice from a convent, or an alms- 
 house; this is not the language of one 
 whom the world had disappointed and dis- 
 gusted, and who, in a spirit of misanthropy, 
 turned to religion as a substitute for its for- 
 mer pleasures ; it is not the experience of 
 a bed-ridden cripple, making a virtue of 
 necessity, and seeking consolation from re- 
 ligion, because every other source of hap- 
 piness is cut off. No. It is the experi- 
 ence of a young lady, residing at the very 
 centre of all that could dazzle the mind 
 
WAT TO HAPPINESS. 129 
 
 and fascinate the imagination, in the gay- 
 est and most brilliant city in Europe; 
 whom the world, in its most alluring forms, 
 was perpetually assailing, and seeking to 
 captivate. 
 
 And why should this surprise you % Why 
 feel astonished that religion should yield 
 such pure and satisfying bliss % Think of 
 its component parts; its elements are 
 Faith, Hope, Love ! — think of its privi- 
 leges — the pardon of sin, the justification 
 of our person before God, adoption into 
 his family, the witness of his Spirit that we 
 are his children, the image of his glory 
 upon the soul, the love of Christ shed 
 abroad in the heart, the consciousness of 
 his favour, daily communion with him, 
 his abounding consolation in trouble, hope 
 in death, the prospect of eternal life: — 
 think of its duties — the perusal of the Scrip- 
 tures, the stillness of meditation, the soar- 
 ings of devotion, the fervour of prayer, the 
 9 
 
130 RELIGION THfe 
 
 rapture of praise. Is it any wonder that 
 this should give happiness? What was 
 paradise? The perfection of religion. 
 What will be heaven? The eternal enjoy- 
 ment of a perfect religion. What is it that, 
 in thousands of instances, has made Chris- 
 tians happy in the hovel of poverty, in the 
 languor of disease, in the hour of misfor- 
 tune, in the agonies of dissolution? Reli- 
 gion. What is it that has irradiated with 
 brightness and glory, the Christian prison- 
 er's cell, lightened the captive's fetters, and 
 made the martyr sing at the stake ? Re- 
 ligion. O what a power to bless must it 
 contain, when it can conquer all these op- 
 posing circumstances, and distil joy and 
 peace into minds, which must be seemingly 
 so full of wormwood as to leave no room 
 for any thing but wo, and to which any 
 thing else would appear to be out of season 
 and out of place. 
 
 If you want pleasure, then, here you 
 
WAY TO HAPPINESS. 131 
 
 may find it : and to exhort you to attend 
 to religion is but another form of entreat- 
 ing you to be happy. " Here, in piety, 
 is a pleasure, high, rational, angelical ; 
 embased with no attendant sting, no con- 
 sequent loathing, no remorse or bitter 
 farewells. A pleasure made for the soul, 
 and the soul for it, suited to its spirituality, 
 and equal to its capacity. It is the fore- 
 taste of heaven, and the earnest of eter- 
 nity. In a word, it is such an one as being 
 begun in grace, passes into glory, blessed- 
 ness, and immortality, and those pleasures 
 that neither eye has seen, nor ear heard, 
 nor ever entered into the heart of man to 
 conceive of." 
 
 I have alluded in the foregoing descrip- 
 tion of the happiness of religion, to its 
 power to support the mind in prospect of 
 death ; but this is too important a view of 
 it, and too affectingly illustrated by the 
 dying experience of Clementine, to be so 
 
132 RELIGION THE 
 
 summarily dismissed ; and I must therefore 
 refer to it at greater length. It is an aw- 
 ful thing to die. Death is that monster, 
 from the sight, and especially the touch of 
 which, the whole animal creation, and man 
 above all, turns with instinctive dread and 
 horror. What is it that can not only en- 
 able us to overcome this revulsion and recoil, 
 but also go forward to meet the last enemy 
 in peace and hope ? Religion, and nothing 
 else ; — and it is the glory of Christianity 
 that it erects its brightest trophies on the 
 tomb, and illumines the dark valley of the 
 shadow of death with the brightness of a 
 hope full of immortality. Look into the 
 dying chamber of Clementine Cuvier; see 
 that lovely young creature, when every 
 thing tended to make death terrible, and 
 life desirable ; when the fame of her dis- 
 tinguished father, the affection of her mo- 
 ther, and, above all, the plighted love of 
 him who was still dearer to her heart than 
 
WAY TO HAPPINESS. 133 
 
 either father or mother, all invited her back 
 to the world : — see her with such friends 
 around her dying couch, and such scenes 
 before her imagination, bowing in deep and 
 peaceful submission to the will of God, 
 even when he called her to put on the 
 shroud, instead of the bridal attire, and to 
 descend into the grave, instead of occupy- 
 ing the house furnished for her reception. 
 Again, look at that touching scene which 
 is thus described : — " She manifested for 
 her father and her sister the most tender 
 affection ; and on one occasion, when, after 
 a violent attack she had expressed a desire 
 to depart, the tears of her sister and her 
 parents so overcame her, that she reproved 
 herself for such a wish, and exclaimed, "O 
 how selfish I am ! I will take any medi- 
 cine, and try every remedy, because I wish 
 to recover for your sakes" She gave to 
 her intended husband a copy of the " Imi- 
 tation of Jesus Christ,' ' in which her trem- 
 
134 MISTAKES IN 
 
 bling hand had marked some passages, and 
 written some lines of Christian affection ; 
 and having requested him to place his head 
 before her she laid on it her hand, and said, 
 ' Lord, bless us both ! Lord, restore me, 
 that I may love thee more; but if thou hast 
 otherwise decided, thy holy will be done.' " 
 O Christianity ! these are thy triumphs ! 
 For such a person to die in such a manner ! 
 What a mixture of gloom and glory is 
 here ! Reader, could you in similar circum- 
 stances die thus ? Have you the piety that 
 could enable you to turn with calmness and 
 hope from such visions of earthly bliss as 
 presented themselves to her eye, and see in 
 lieu thereof the — grave 1 Have you thus 
 learned to die % Shall not this scene teach 
 you the reality, the power, the transcendent 
 excellence of religion ? Take a last look on 
 that seraphic young Christian, see her with 
 
 A mortal paleness on her cheek, 
 But glory in her soul : 
 
RELIGION. 135 
 
 and then present for yourself this prayer, 
 "Let me die the death of the righteous, and 
 let my last end belike hers." 
 
 I cannot however allow you to pass from 
 the contemplation of this dying Christian, 
 without asking you to compare her end 
 with the closing scene of the dying Phi- 
 losopher. What Baron Cuvier's precise 
 sentiments were on the subject of revealed 
 religion, does not appear from any thing I 
 have read. Whether he contented himself 
 with those ministrations which he per- 
 formed with such ability at the altar of 
 natural religion, and thus added one more 
 to the highly gifted minds, who are content 
 with worshipping God the Creator, without 
 doing homage to God the Saviour, and the 
 Sanctifier; or whether he paid a sincere 
 homage to the Redeemer of the world, I 
 pretend not to determine. Certain, how- 
 ever, it is, that in his last moments, so far 
 as the account of his friend extends, there 
 
136 MISTAKES IN 
 
 were no expressions of a faith, first looking 
 for comfort and peace to the cross of Christ, 
 then penetrating the veil, and ranging 
 through the regions of immortality; no 
 lively hopes of an inheritance incorruptible, 
 undefiled, and that fadeth not away ; no 
 desire to depart and be with Christ : no felt 
 attractions of the presence of God in hea- 
 ven. His admiring eulogist tells of his 
 longings after immortality, but Pasquier 
 evidently meant the immortality which is 
 bounded by earth and time, not that which 
 is enjoyed beyond the grave in heaven. I 
 do not pretend to say or insinuate, there 
 were none of these views and feelings ; his 
 admirers may have suppressed them, as if 
 the rays of the excellent glory falling upon 
 the dying philosopher would bedim the 
 lustre of his countenance, and render him 
 less worthy of admiration, when beheld, 
 catching the first beams of heavenly light, 
 into the full blaze of which he was about 
 
RELIGION. 137 
 
 to ascend. All I say is, that we have no 
 account of his dying testimony to the truth 
 and excellence, the power and hopes of 
 the gospel of Jesus Christ. But O, how 
 different was the case of his sainted, 
 seraphed daughter ! She also yearned 
 for glory, but it was for the glory to be re- 
 vealed in heaven ; for honour, but it was 
 for that honour which cometh from above ; 
 for immortality, but it was for that brought 
 to light by the gospel. A few hours before 
 her death, she said to a beloved friend, " You 
 know we are sisters for eternity — there 
 is life, it is only there that there is UfeP 
 She knew that if the earthly house of her 
 tabernacle was dissolved, she had a build- 
 ing of God, a house not made with hands, 
 eternal in the heavens ; and that mortality 
 would be swallowed up of life. Contrast 
 the silence and reserve of philosophy with 
 the full and joyful testimony of faith ; the 
 cold negation of the former with the ardent 
 
133 MISTAKES IN 
 
 aspirations of the latter ; the half-averted, 
 anxious, or desponding eye, with which the 
 one looks upon the tomb and explores the 
 world beyond, with the steady, assured, 
 and expected gaze, with which the other 
 looks upon the fields of light and glory, the 
 promised land that lies beyond the swelling 
 flood. 
 
 Thirdly, — I now present to you another 
 lesson to be learned from this event ; it is 
 one the truth of which young people are 
 slow to admit, although it is often repeated 
 by the voice of Providence, and confirmed 
 by the universal history of man, I mean 
 the mortality of youth, and the necessity 
 of immediate and habitual preparation 
 for death. 
 
 Clementine was removed at the age of 
 twenty-two. " Man cometh forth like a 
 flower, and is cut down : " and in innume- 
 rable instances, the bud is not permitted to 
 expand into a flower. Death observes no 
 
RELIGION. 139 
 
 order, but often strikes down the healthy 
 and leaves the sickly ; takes the young and 
 leaves the old. Myriads of both sexes 
 are annually carried off to an early grave 
 by that bane of English youth, consump- 
 tion, which, like a glutton, devours multi- 
 tudes, and, like an epicure, daintily feeds 
 on some of the rarest and the best. Inci- 
 pient mortal disease is in many persons 
 before it is suspected either by themselves 
 or their friends. While the rose blooms on 
 the cheek, there is a worm beginning to 
 feed upon its root. This may be the case 
 of some whose eye shall read these pages. 
 No matter the seeming robustness of your 
 health, the buoyancy of your spirits, the 
 elasticity of your step, and the full tide of 
 energy that is still flowing into your frame ; 
 your days are numbered, and may not 
 reach far beyond, perhaps not so far as 
 those of Clementine Cuvier. You may be 
 travelling, not to the altar, but to the tomb ; 
 
140 MORTALITY 
 
 and your eye may have seen the spot, 
 your foot have trodden upon it, where you 
 shall shortly lie. Is it wisdom to forget 
 this % Is it your interest, to say nothing of 
 your duty, to fancy yourself secure from 
 death, till you are worn out by old age % 
 What, when youth is mortal as four-score % 
 Will you die the sooner by considering 
 your latter end, or live the longer by for- 
 getting it? That very unwillingness to 
 reflect upon your mortality, shows that you 
 have much need to reflect upon it, for it 
 proves that you are unfitted for death. Do 
 consider what it is to die : it is not only to 
 bid adieu to our friends, to give up our pos- 
 sessions, to surrender our hopes, to turn 
 from our prospects ; it is not only to ex- 
 change all this for the silence, darkness, 
 and corruption of the tomb— the tomb is 
 the least solemn part of death ; the more 
 awful is that beyond the grave. What 
 scenes burst upon the mind that next mo- 
 
OF YOUTH. 141 
 
 ment after death — all the secrets of eter- 
 nity — all the realities of the unseen world 
 — all that the Bible tells us of — and more 
 than the Bible could tell of— God, Judg- 
 ment, Heaven, Hell, Eternity. Reader, 
 all this is before you, perhaps near to you ; 
 and from which at any time you are sepa- 
 rated only by the thin partition of flesh and 
 blood, that mere veil which death in any 
 hour of futurity may rend asunder ; and 
 by rending, may disclose to you the peo- 
 pled regions of eternal doom. Be this, 
 then, your prayer, your sincere, fervent, 
 and daily prayer, u So teach me to number 
 my days so as to apply my heart unto 
 wisdom" 
 
 Death is an event for which, come when 
 it may, whether in youth, in old age, or in 
 the middle of life, there should be a suitable 
 preparation. " Be ye ready," is the bene- 
 volent warning of Him, who, in all he said, 
 as well as in all he did, was intent upon 
 
142 MORTALITY 
 
 the salvation of souls. We ought to pre- 
 pare for every event which must happen 
 to us, however insignificant, and in matters 
 of importance for every one that may hap- 
 pen. Death is the most momentous, and at 
 the same time the most certain change that 
 can come upon us, for it sets the seal of our 
 eternal destiny upon us. As the tree 
 falls so it lies, and as it leans so it falls. 
 " Prepare to meet your God, 11 is a sound 
 which should never be out of your ears, 
 till you can say with the Apostle, " I am 
 ready to depart." What tremendous im- 
 port is there in the word preparation, as 
 applied to a dying hour. But what is 
 preparation? Not a few hasty prayers 
 said by us, or by a clergyman for us, in 
 our departing moments ; not taking the 
 sacrament; not saying we are sorry for 
 our sins, and that we die in charity with 
 all men. Many do 'all this, who are aw- 
 fully unprepared for death, and sink to the 
 bottomless pit when they expect to soar 
 
OP YOUTH. 143 
 
 away to the regions of eternal glory. 
 True religion, the religion of the heart, a 
 religion of penitence, faith, holiness, prayer, 
 a religion that is a living, abiding, influen- 
 tial principle, rooted in the soul, forming 
 the whole character, producing a holy 
 taste, and dictating holy pursuits, such a 
 religion as is described in the foregoing 
 pages, and exemplified in the life and death 
 of Clementine ; this, this is preparation for 
 our latter end. Nothing less than that 
 which makes us meet for glory, can with 
 propriety be called a being ready for 
 death ; we are not, cannot be prepared to 
 go away from earth, till we are prepared 
 to go into heaven. "Verily, verily" said 
 Christ, " except a man be bom of water 
 and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven." Our title to heaven 
 is acquired for us by the righteousness of 
 Christ, imputed to us in our Justification ; 
 our meetness, by the work of the Holy 
 
144 MORTALITY 
 
 Spirit in our regeneration and sa notification, 
 and no one is prepared to go into the pre- 
 sence of God till he is thus justified, renew- 
 ed, and purified. 
 
 A mere death-bed religion is often a de- 
 lusive thing. True repentance is never 
 too late, but late repentance is rarely true. 
 Neither pungent remorse, nor deep humili- 
 ation, nor ecstatic joy, experienced in the 
 prospect of dissolution, if expressed then 
 for the first time, are to be much relied up- 
 on : myriads have felt all this, who, upon 
 their recovering, became as bad as before, 
 and even worse. Religion is knowledge, 
 deliberate purpose, the choice of a supreme 
 good, the election of the heart between 
 contending competitors for its affections ; it 
 is faith, hope, love: say then, if this great, 
 this entire moral revolution and renovation 
 can be expected to take place amidst the 
 decays, the struggles, the groans of expir- 
 ing nature ? Can it be looked for that the 
 
OP YOUTH. 145 
 
 great work will be done amidst restless 
 days and sleepless nights, the languors of 
 disease, the agony of pain, and the incohe- 
 rence of delirium? Now is the accepted 
 time, now is the day of salvation. Every 
 thing but the spirit of procrastination in 
 man says — now : the word of God repeat- 
 edly and emphatically says — now: the 
 dispensations of Providence say — now ; the 
 uncertainty of life as illustrated in the 
 deaths of the young and the healthy, says 
 — now ; the voice of reason and conscience 
 says — now ; the affectionate advice of pa- 
 rents, friends, and ministers says — now; 
 the infinite value of the soul, says — now ; 
 the transcendent worth of salvation says — 
 now ; the present happiness of religion 
 says — now ; the vanity of the world says 
 — now ; the discomfort, and in many cases 
 the misery of a life of sin, says — now ; in 
 short, every thing but Satan, the adversary 
 and destroyer of souls, says — now. God 
 10 
 
146 MORTALITY 
 
 •says, " To-day, if ye will hear my voice, 
 harden not your hearts; " and " remember 
 now your Creator in the days of your 
 youth," — and it is only the suggestion of 
 the Wicked One to put it off to a more 
 convenient season. 
 
 The noted Csesar Borgia said, in his last 
 moments, " I had provided in the course of 
 my life for every thing except death, and 
 now alas ! I am to die, though entirely un- 
 prepared." 
 
 Begin at once, and without delay, to at- 
 tend to the just and paramount claims of 
 religion. Make it your next, as well as 
 your great business. Time is short — life 
 is uncertain — death is at hand — judgment 
 is approaching — and eternity is to follow. 
 If you are impressed by reading this me- 
 moir and the subjoined reflections; if .a 
 serious thoughtfulness come over you, and 
 you feel inclined to give to religion the at- 
 tention it deserves and demands, cherish 
 
OF YOUTH. 147 
 
 such emotions ; they form a crisis in your 
 moral history ; they are the disturbance of 
 a dangerous slumber, and will issue either 
 in your awakening to the pursuit of salva- 
 tion, or in your settling down again to a 
 deeper sleep of death. It is a dangerous 
 thing to neglect such admonitions, and to 
 extinguish convictions. Take the follow- 
 ing facts in illustration of this sentiment. 
 
 14 1 once," said a pious minister of Ame- 
 rica, " knew a youth of sixteen, the son and 
 hope of pious parents, and the favourite of 
 a large circle of associates. He was my 
 friend. We went together to the school- 
 room, to the play-ground, to our chamber. 
 I have seen him, while listening to the 
 pleadings of parental faithfulness, urging 
 him to immediate repentance, and warning 
 him, by a brother's recent grave, of the 
 danger of delay. He listened in silence 
 and respectful attention, but the alluring 
 pleasures of youth dazzled him, and he re- 
 solved to leave religion for a future day. 
 
148 AWFUL 
 
 " One evening he met a circle of youth- 
 ful acquaintance. It was a gay circle, and 
 a thoughtless one. In the midst of their 
 mirth, his eye fell on a hymn-book. He 
 opened it and read, 
 
 'And must this body die, 
 
 This mortal frame decay? 
 
 And must these active limbs of mine 
 
 Lie mouid'ring in the clay ? ' 
 
 He laid down the book, and forgot its 
 warning voice. 
 
 " Late that evening he came to my cham- 
 ber, breathing short, like one who had been 
 walking fast, and lay down by my side. 
 After some time he turned to me, and said, 
 'Will you get up and give me a glass of 
 water ? I feel unwell.' I arose, and called 
 the family. He was manifestly ill, but not 
 apparently in immediate danger. The next 
 morning he was worse. A physician was 
 called, but did not understand his case. 
 Search was at length made, and it was 
 
DEATHS. 149 
 
 found, that by mistake, he had taken a dose 
 of deadly poison. The hand of death was 
 then upon him. For three hours his body 
 was writhing in agony, but that was for- 
 gotten in the more excruciating agonies of 
 his soul. I heard his minister tell him of a 
 merciful Saviour. I heard his father, 
 kneeling by his bed-side, pour out to God 
 the most agonizing prayer for him that 
 language could express. I heard his mo- 
 ther exclaim, ' O ! my son ! my son !' till 
 she swooned, and sunk upon the floor. I 
 heard him, as he tossed from side to side, 
 cry out, ' O Lord, have mercy on my soul ! 
 O my God, have mercy on me ! mercy ! 
 mercy ! mercy ! ' and then, reaching out 
 his hands toward his father, he exclaimed, 
 4 1 am lost ! I am lost ! am I not, father ? ? 
 " His breath grew shorter, and his voice 
 fainter, until raising his hands as if he 
 would cry ' mercy' once more, he expired. 
 Fifteen years have rolled away since I 
 
150 AWFUL 
 
 heard those cries of dying agony, but they 
 ring in my ears now, as if it were but an 
 hour. That look of fierce despair is now 
 in my eye, and my ear echoes with the 
 heart-rending cry, 'lam lost! I am lost! 
 am I not, father ? ' How can I forget 
 them? They came from the death-bed of 
 my friend, and that friend my own beloved 
 brother. 
 
 " Reader, by my brother's dying groans, 
 by the tears which fall on this paper while 
 I think of him, and by the tears and groans 
 of Calvary, I beseech you, remember, and 
 lay to heart the truths you are here taught." 
 
 The following speaks to the other sex. 
 " I was once called," said a venerable cler- 
 gyman, "to visit a young lady who was 
 said to be in despair. She had, at some 
 time previous, been serious; and had, it 
 was hoped, resolutely set her face Zion- 
 ward. In an evil hour, some of her asso- 
 ciates, gay, pleasure-loving young ladies, 
 
DEATHS. 151 
 
 called on her to accompany them to a ball. 
 She refused to go. The occasion, the com- 
 pany, the parade, the gaiety, were all ut- 
 terly dissonant with her present feelings. 
 With characteristic levity and thoughtless- 
 ness they urged her, ridiculed her Metho- 
 dism, railed at the cant and hypocrisy of 
 her spiritual guides, and finally so far pre- 
 vailed, that with a desperate effort to shake 
 off her convictions, and regain her former 
 carnal security, she exclaimed, 'Well, I 
 will go, though I am lost for it.' God 
 took her at her word. The blessed Spirit 
 immediately withdrew his influences, and 
 instead of the anxious sigh and longing 
 desire to be free from the body of sin and 
 death, succeeded, by turns, the calmness 
 and horrors of despair. The wretched 
 victim knew that the Spirit had taken his 
 final leave. No compunctions for sin, no 
 tears of penitence, no inquiries after God, 
 no eager seekings of the place where Chris- 
 
152 
 
 AWFUL 
 
 tians love to meet, now occupied the tedious 
 hours. Instead of the bloom and freshness 
 of health, came the paleness and haggard- 
 ness of decay. The wan and sunken 
 cheek, the ghastly glaring eye, the emaci- 
 ated limb, the sure precursors of approach- 
 ing dissolution were there. The caresses 
 of friends, the suggestions of affection, all 
 were unheeded. The consolations of piety, 
 the last resource of the miserable, were to 
 her but the bitterness of death. In this 
 state of mind, I was called to visit her. 
 When I entered the room where she was, 
 and beheld her, pale and emaciated, and 
 reflected that the ravages of her form with- 
 out, but faintly shadowed forth the wreck 
 and desolation within, I was almost over- 
 powered. Never had I conceived so vivid 
 an idea of the wo and misery of those who 
 have quenched the Spirit. 
 
 14 1 proposed prayer. The word threw 
 her into an agony. She utterly refused. 
 
' DEATHS. 153 
 
 No entreaties of friends, no arguments 
 drawn from the love of God, or from the 
 fulness and freeness of atoning blood, could 
 prevail to shake her resolution. I left her 
 without having been able to find a single 
 avenue to her heart, or to dart one ray of 
 comfort into that dark bosom, which to all 
 human view, was soon to be enveloped in 
 the blackness of darkness for ever. Never 
 shall I forget the expression of that ghastly 
 countenance, the tones of that despairing 
 voice. The impression is as vivid as 
 though it had been yesterday. O, that all 
 the young, gay, thoughtless ones, who sti- 
 fle the convictions of conscience, and re- 
 press the rising sigh, who dance along on 
 the brink of utter reprobation and despair, 
 would read and lay to heart the warning 
 which the last hours and death of this 
 young lady, are calculated so forcibly to 
 make." 
 
 Contrast these fearful death-bed scenes, 
 
154 CLEMEN TIN E r S 
 
 with the holy and peaceful close of that 
 lovely young woman, whose memoir forms 
 the subject of this volume. There was no 
 heart-rending cry, "I am lost, I am lost" 
 there : no tones of a desponding voice, no 
 look of an agonized mind, no horrors of a 
 guilty conscience there. No : all was 
 peace, and joy, and hope — the very verge 
 of heaven ; from whence, without murmur 
 or regret, she saw the visions of earthly 
 bliss melt away, like the beauteous tints of 
 the dawn, in the splendour of that eternal 
 day, whose glorious luminary was then ris- 
 ing upon her soul, and disclosing the inef- 
 fable beauty of the new heavens and the 
 new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness. 
 
 Reader, before you lay down this little 
 volume, pay a visit in imagination to the 
 spot where the mortal remains of Clemen- 
 tine are awaiting, in peaceful repose, the 
 morning of the resurrection, and the signal 
 
SEPULCHRE. 155 
 
 of the Archangel's trump to awake from 
 their slumber, and put on immortality. Go 
 to the Pere la Chaise, that most remark- 
 able cemetery of the world. Within its 
 vast circumference, are deposited the ashes 
 of the pomp and chivalry of modern France. 
 See tombs rising beyond tombs, far as the 
 eye can reach in countless numbers, and 
 in forms so various and so beautiful, that it 
 would seem as if the sculptor's art deter- 
 mined to make the city of the dead vie in 
 elegance with the city of the living : — 
 there, surrounded by marshals and nobles, 
 philosophers and scholars, poets and artists, 
 sleeps this young and meek disciple of 
 Jesus ; — aud who that believes in revela- 
 tion, and looks from the vanities of time to 
 the realities of eternity, would not prefer 
 the simple record of her lowly tomb, to the 
 wreaths of fame which hang on the proud- 
 est monument of unsanctified genius. The 
 visitor may pass by her memorial to read 
 
156 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 names that are copied into the page of his- 
 tory, and are illustrious in the annals of 
 Europe ; or when stopping at the grave of 
 Cuvier, to pay a tribute of deserved respect 
 to that great man, may know nothing, and 
 therefore care nothing about his sainted 
 daughter ; but when those marbles shall 
 burst open at the blast which is to awaken 
 the dead, then shall it be found that sincere 
 and humble piety has a greater and more 
 enduring excellence than fame, or rank, or 
 wealth. Then shall Clementine come forth 
 to glory, honour, and immortality, while 
 they who sought distinction only in the 
 field of battle, the school of learning, the 
 hall of science, or the arena of politics, 
 shall be swept away, and all that they have 
 done, with the refuse of the nations that 
 know not God. 
 
 Remember Clementine Cuvier, and re- 
 member also it was divine grace that made 
 her what she was. The same grace, rich, 
 
REFLECTIONS. 157 
 
 free, and undiminished, remains to make 
 you like her, if you desire the resemblance. 
 Be this your prayer, presented in sincerity, 
 in faith, in fervour, and till it is answered : 
 " God of all power and grace, for the 
 sake of Jesus Christ, thy only Son our 
 Saviour, enlighten my dark mind, renew 
 my hard heart, correct my worldly taste, 
 and sanctify my unholy life by that Di- 
 vine Spirit whose beautiful creation has 
 been set before me in this memoir, that I 
 may live as she lived, die as she died, and 
 with her and all thy saints, inherit thy 
 kingdom and glory for ever. Amen." 
 

V* or THE f 
 
 an appe: 
 
 CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 LAST HOURS AND PEACEFUL DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 MISS MARTHA S . 
 
 A second edition of this little work having" 
 been called for soon after the publication of the 
 first, it would have appeared long ago, had I 
 not indulged a hope that I should have been able 
 to procure some extension of the narrative, 
 from its able and devoted author. In that hope 
 I have been disappointed, with the exception 
 of one beautiful fact, which occurred after the 
 death of Clementine, which will be found at 
 the close of her too short memoir, and which 
 is not only honourable to the taste and tender- 
 ness of her illustrious father, but so far as it 
 goes, is an indication of his approval of his 
 daughter's religious character. 
 
 I deem myself fortunate in having met with 
 a portrait of this lovely young Christian. It 
 was originally engraved in France, from a pic- 
 ture taken by Sir Thomas Lawrence, and was 
 copied some few years since into one of the 
 
160 APPENDIX. 
 
 Annuals published in London, and accompanied 
 by some verses written by Miss Jewsbury, 
 afterwards Mrs. Fletcher ; who, alas ! since 
 then has followed the subject of her spirited 
 verses to the tomb. 
 
 I am sorry that the purchasers of the first 
 edition should not be in possession of the 
 portrait, but I am sure they would think me 
 culpaple if I were to withhold it on this ac- 
 count from those who buy the second. All I 
 can do is to regret that I had it not before. 
 A similar remark must be made in reference 
 to the Appendix, which contains the dying ex- 
 perience of Miss Ellen S -, and which I 
 
 thought too interesting, and too much in har- 
 mony with the case of Clementine, to repress. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 By a singular mistake I gave the name of 
 Ellen to this deceased young lady, in the se- 
 cond edition : it should have been Martha. 
 Ellen is the name of an elder sister, who I am 
 happy to say is still living. When it is consi- 
 dered that I had not long known the family, 
 the error will be easily accounted for. 
 
MEMOIR. 161 
 
 MEMOIR OF MARTHA S. 
 
 One morning I paid a pastoral visit to 
 a young lady, a member of my Church, 
 whose family had not long removed from 
 another part of the country to reside in 
 Birmingham. On my rising to retire, my 
 young friend informed me that she had an 
 invalid sister, whom she expected every 
 moment from her chamber, and who, she 
 said, would be much gratified to see me. 
 I had scarcely resumed my seat, before 
 there entered the room, a most lovely and 
 interesting young person, whose features, 
 naturally extremely pleasing, derived ad- 
 ditional beauty from the fatal hectic with 
 which they were a little flushed, and which 
 had been increased by the exertion of com- 
 ing down stairs. What added to the in- 
 terest of the scene was the presence of two 
 11 
 
162 MEMOIR OF 
 
 other sisters, besides the one already men- 
 tioned, and who themselves appeared in 
 delicate health. As soon as Martha, for 
 such was her Christian name, had recov- 
 ered her breath, which had been rendered 
 short and rather difficult by the exertion 
 of descending from her chamber, I entered 
 into conversation with her on the circum- 
 stances of her affliction ; a subject which, 
 though in most cases, gloomy and depress- 
 ing, checked not for a moment the sweet 
 smile which played upon her engaging 
 countenance. She soon informed me that 
 she felt she had the sentence of death in 
 herself, and considered her illness as a 
 voice from the tomb ; and spoke of dying 
 as one that was familiar with the awful 
 topic. • " I have neither love of life," she 
 said, " nor fear of death : and although I 
 am leaving the world when its prospects 
 were become most flattering and alluring, 
 I do not regret it. I have only one desire, 
 
MARTHA S. 163 
 
 and that is after more communion with 
 God." There was a tear in her eyes, but 
 it was not the tear of disappointed hope, or 
 bitter regret, but only the tribute of nature 
 refined, but not destroyed, by grace ; and 
 which, in fact, added a charm even to the 
 beauties of holiness, that so evidently in- 
 vested her character. The whole strain of 
 her conversation was so calm, so collected, 
 so dignified, evincing such meek submission, 
 such humble piety, such weanedness from 
 the world, and such longing after immor- 
 tality, that I gazed at her with wonder and 
 delight, and left the house thinking and 
 saying, that I had scarcely ever witnessed 
 any thing so seraphic. 
 
 On subsequent inquiry, I found that the 
 family of which she was a member, had 
 suffered much, and often, from the ravages 
 of death. First they lost their father, who 
 died when he was little more than forty 
 years of age, leaving a widow and nu- 
 
164 MEMOIR OF 
 
 merous family. A few years afterwards, 
 one of her brothers died ; then, in the course 
 of a few months, a sister; and in about 
 two years subsequently another brother. 
 Death, when he once enters a large family, 
 seems often to delight in multiplying his 
 victims, and accumulating his spoils, till the 
 late flourishing and numerous household 
 is left but a wreck for a widow's tears to 
 fall upon. 
 
 These affecting breaches in the wide 
 circle which Martha had been accustomed 
 to meet in her mother's house, appears to 
 have produced a deep and salutary im- 
 pression upon her mind. She saw in them 
 sorrowful proofs of the brevity and uncer- 
 tainty of life, of the vanity of the world, 
 and the necessity of being ready for an 
 early grave. But there were other lessons 
 to be learned from these scenes of mortality. 
 She saw what religion was in its excel- 
 lence and power, in the happy deaths of her 
 
MARTHA S. 185 
 
 relatives, especially in the closing scene of 
 her brother's life. She was the astonished 
 witness of the resignation and patience 
 with which he bore his sufferings, and 
 the peace and hope with which he marked 
 the advances of the King of Terrors. As 
 she ministered occasionally at his sick-bed, 
 she listened to his pious counsels, and re- 
 ceived his affectionate admonitions; and 
 seeing how a young husband and father 
 was enabled, by divine grace, to leave the 
 wife of his youth, and his babes, not only 
 without a murmur, but with a desire to 
 depart and be with Christ, she became 
 anxious to be a partaker of that same piety 
 which yielded him such strong consolation 
 in his dying moments. From that time, 
 now about three years since, the salva- 
 tion of her soul became the object of her 
 supreme concern ; and she sought it, where 
 alone it is to be found, by faith in Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
1G0 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Martha had been declining in health for 
 some time ; but on the eleventh of May 
 last, on returning from public worship, she 
 ruptured a blood vessel in the lungs. It 
 matters nothing, where, or how, or when, 
 the Christian is smitten for death ; he is 
 equally prepared for the stroke, whether 
 he be in God's house, or in his own ; in his 
 secular pursuits, or in his devotional exer- 
 cises ; in the closet of private prayer, or 
 in the place of public resort ; and yet we 
 attach an imaginative interest to some 
 scenes above others. What the subject 
 was which had engaged this pious girl's 
 attention in the sanctuary, or what were 
 her meditations on her way home, cannot 
 now be ascertained ; if it could, it would 
 perhaps be found to have been some 
 theme, specially adapted to her situation, 
 by Him, who foresaw the scenes which lay 
 before her, and knew what was necessary 
 to prepare her for them. This attack of 
 
MARTHAS. 1 67 
 
 disease she received as an intimation that 
 she must be ready for the speedy coming 
 of the Son of Man. In her private memo- 
 randa, she had made the following entry 
 relative to this event. " This dispensa- 
 tion of mercy brought eternity to my view, 
 and in the evening I had the sweet assu- 
 rance that sudden death could have nothing 
 to alarm me." How strange will it sound 
 to many, to hear a young and beautiful 
 woman, with all the ordinary, and some of 
 the extraordinary reasons for wishing to 
 live, talk of an event which would in all 
 probability issue in death, as a dispensation 
 of mercy. Yet this was neither unnatural 
 nor irrational. All things work together 
 for good to them that love God : and death 
 is placed by the apostle amongst the privi- 
 leges of the child of God. All is in mercy 
 that God does to his people. He loves 
 them with an infinite love, and having both 
 omniscient wisdom, and omnipotent power, 
 
168 MEMOIR OF 
 
 to fulfil the purposes of his love, he can do 
 nothing contrary to mercy. This it is the 
 business of faith to believe, nothing doubt- 
 ing ; and it was one of the triumphs of 
 Martha's faith to believe, that even the 
 rupture of a blood vessel was a dispensa- 
 tion of mercy. She at once gave up all 
 hopes of recovering, and many times re- 
 ferred to the day with manifest pleasure. 
 
 O how religion changes the aspect of 
 every thing terrible, and makes that an ob- 
 ject of complacency which, apart from this, 
 is an object of unmixed dread and dislike. 
 It has power to make afflictions sources of 
 joy, and death a matter of desire. 
 
 During her illness Martha acquired ex- 
 alted ideas of the heavenly world. Her 
 faith pierced the veil that hides the unseen 
 state from corporeal vision, and gazed upon 
 the things that are eternal. " I know not," 
 she would often say, " what all the employ- 
 ments of heaven may be, for it doth not 
 
MARTHA S. 169 
 
 yet appear what we shall be : but I know 
 that I shall be in the presence of God and 
 see Christ, and that will be enough. I shall 
 be perfectly happy, for I shall be perfectly 
 holy." 
 
 At the time of her attack in May, she 
 was engaged in the bonds of plighted love 
 to a gentleman, to whom she was tenderly 
 attached, and to whom, at no distant pe- 
 riod, she was to have been married. It is 
 vain to suppose that she could turn from 
 the altar to the tomb as an object of con- 
 templation, and from this dearest of all 
 friends, to the arrest of the last enemy, 
 without a severe struggle between an earth- 
 ly and a spiritual affection. The conflict 
 was short, the victory complete ; and it 
 was at once the greatest effort and bright- 
 est triumph of her faith, to be made willing 
 to give up even this dear object of her 
 heart, and depart to be with Christ. In 
 reference to this event she sometimes said, 
 

 170 MEMOIR OF 
 
 "It is mysterious, but I know it is all 
 right. My heavenly Father knows what 
 is best for me." " I never," says her sister, 
 " saw greater firmness in her, than when 
 she adverted to this disappointment of her 
 hopes." 
 
 As I did not apprehend from my first 
 visit that her end was near, and as I was 
 much from home, I did not again see her 
 for some time ; and O that all my young 
 friends could have seen her as I then saw 
 her ; lovely in death, like a moss-rose bud 
 nearly severed from its stock, and just rea- 
 dy to fall on the ground ; yet its opening 
 beauties possessing still their freshness and 
 their fragrance. There was not the shadow 
 of a shade of impatience, anxiety, or fear, 
 to becloud her beautiful countenance, to 
 check the smile which irradiated her fea- 
 tures, or to dim the ray of hope which 
 glittered in her fine expressive eye, as it 
 turned to that heaven, whither her heart 
 
MARTHA S . 171 
 
 had already ascended. What painter's 
 skill could pencil the looks which I then 
 saw? All was peace, and more than peace ; 
 it was a peace that passeth understanding, 
 rising into a joy unspeakable and full of 
 glory. Christ, and Christ alone, was her 
 refuge ; and she confessed her exclusive 
 dependance on his blood and righteousness 
 for acceptance with God. She knew in 
 whom she had believed, and was persuaded 
 he was able to keep that which she had 
 committed to him until the day of Christ. I 
 pass over much that was said during that 
 most solemn and delightful interview, to 
 mention one remark : — " Do you now feel 
 any regret," I said to her, " that you are 
 leaving the world so early, and when its 
 prospects were becoming so attractive?" 
 With an ineffable smile, she replied, " Our 
 great business in this world is to obtain 
 the salvation of our souls; and having 
 secured that, I have accomplished the end 
 
1 72 M E M I R OF 
 
 of my existence" Glorious and immortal 
 truth ! Mighty sentiment ! Profound wis- 
 dom ! Worthy to be printed on the firma- 
 ment in starry characters, and to be written 
 in sun-beams on the tablet of earth for 
 human eyes to read, and human hearts to 
 study. Let the young ponder it at the 
 commencement of the great journey of life ; 
 let it be weighed by those in the midst of 
 life, and by the aged at the end of life. 
 Gain what we may, life is lost if the soul 
 be not saved ; while on the other hand, if 
 the soul be saved, we have secured the 
 end of life, from whatever possessions, or 
 whatever prospects we may be called by 
 death to depart. 
 
 One day, about this time, Martha said to 
 a friend, " I sometimes regret the time that 
 I spend in sleep, since it deprives me of so 
 much opportunity for communion with 
 God." This was much indeed to say, for a 
 young person dying of consumption, whose 
 
MARTHA S. 173 
 
 slumber was so much interrupted by fever- 
 ish restlessness, and almost ceaseless cough- 
 ing, and to whom the hours of sleep ever 
 brought with them an oblivion, or respite of 
 her sufferings. 
 
 A time was fixed for a last sad interview 
 with her intended husband. In this scene 
 her faith shone forth in all its brightness, 
 and patience had its perfect work. While 
 all around were filled with poignant grief, 
 she was calm, serene, composed. Having 
 affectionately uttered some pious counsels 
 to this friend of her heart, and pointed him 
 to that heaven on the verge of which he 
 saw her, she took her last farewell, and 
 gave her last look with a tranquillity and 
 fortitude that surprised every one, and 
 which proved that she was now enjoying 
 too much of the "excellent glory" to suffer 
 intensely from the rending of any earthly 
 ties whatever. She looked up into heaven, 
 and saw Jesus waiting to receive her spirit, 
 
174 MEMOIR OF 
 
 and felt that she could leave for him even 
 that friend, with whom it was once her 
 fondest worldly hope to tread the path of 
 life in company. The scene scarcely 
 ruffled her peace, or drew from her soul 
 one longing, lingering look to earth, for 
 heaven was fully in her view. 
 
 During a paroxysm of severe bodily 
 suffering which came on soon after, she 
 requested a beloved sister to pray with her, 
 whose supplications greatly soothed her ; 
 she then desired the family to be called 
 into her chamber. — " Sing some hymns to 
 me," she said, " for though I cannot sing 
 with you, I can join by repeating the 
 words." It was done, as well as the feel- 
 ings of her sisters would allow, whose voices 
 sounded in her ear as the distant echoes of 
 the songs of the redeemed above, which she 
 was so soon to join. Becoming drowsy, 
 she said, " It is sweet to fall asleep singing 
 the praises of God." 
 
MARTHA S. 175 
 
 " In the midst of sufferings too painful 
 to describe," said her sister in a note, 
 " Martha could smile, and tell us Jesus was 
 near to her. Her countenance, at all times 
 animated and happy, was unusually so 
 now ; it beamed with ineffable brightness, 
 and was a strong and beautiful evidence 
 that all was perfect peace within. When 
 she could no longer articulate, she looked 
 all we could wish her to say. About live 
 minutes before she expired, her agonies 
 ceased — she recognized all of us — and as 
 though to bid a last farewell, she smiled, 
 and exclaimed — ' Happy, happy ! ' Bless- 
 ed state of mind ! to smile and exclaim, 
 1 Happy, happy ! ' even in the cold arms of 
 death ! " ' 
 
 So died Martha S. Her last farewell to 
 earth was uttered with the consciousness 
 and the feeling that she was treading at that 
 moment upon the very threshold of heav- 
 enly glory ; and who, then, need wonder, 
 
1 76 MEMOIR OF 
 
 that she could speak of happiness, even in 
 dissolution % As she drew near her ever- 
 lasting home, she saw the lights of her 
 Father's house, and unconscious of the 
 gloom of the dark valley of the shadow of 
 death, from the midst of which she beheld 
 them, she gave expression to her feelings in 
 a shout of holy rapture, and left the world 
 with accents which we may easily imagine 
 were also the first she uttered as she touch- 
 ed the heavenly shore — " happy ! happy ! " 
 
 Youthful Reader, — behold another con- 
 vincing proof and beautiful display of the 
 power and excellence of religion, in the 
 deep submission, the solid peace, the joyful 
 content, of this young lady, when called 
 not only to resign life in the very morning 
 of her day, but to turn from the altar to 
 the tomb. When the symptoms of decline 
 appeared, and the sad presages of her dis- 
 ease showed themselves in a form not to 
 
MARTHA 6. 177 
 
 be mistaken, there was no terror, no deter- 
 mined clinging to life, no dreadful recoil 
 from death — but a meek, gentle, and peace- 
 ful acquiescence in the will of God. What 
 opportunity did not a consumption leave 
 her, through sleepless nights and months of 
 confinement at home, to think on all she 
 was leaving ; and yet through all this time, 
 she could see, without repining, the visions 
 of earthly bliss successively vanish, because 
 she knew that, in their place, she was 
 going to receive joys which eye has not 
 seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man 
 conceived. 
 
 It cannot fail to be remarked, that al- 
 though her dying experience was eminently 
 characterized through the whole of it by her 
 own selected term " happy," yet was a 
 total stranger, like Clementine Cuvier, to 
 the ecstacies into which some have been 
 transported in the hour of transition from 
 time to eternity ; but far more was she a 
 12 
 
178 Tvl E M I R OF 
 
 stranger to those alternations of hope and 
 dread which now raise the soul to the very 
 gate of heaven, and now fill it with de- 
 spair; "least of all was she likely to be 
 haunted by those spectral forms of depart- 
 ed guilt, which sometimes steal back even 
 on the forgiven and accepted spirits, under 
 cover of that cloud of night, in which an- 
 guish and the terrors of approaching death 
 so often involve mortality. She was full 
 of joy and hope, but it was joy and hope, 
 tranquil, serene, and unfaltering. This, 
 of all states of mind in which the Christian 
 can meet the dying hour, is surely the 
 most enviable ; the most satisfactory to 
 herself; and the most impressive to specta- 
 tors. Such deep, solemn tranquillity of 
 soul at such a moment, is the surest evi- 
 dence of the reality of religious character, 
 and best illustrates the power of religious 
 truth. It can in no degree be attributed 
 to a fictitious source ; to the illusions of a 
 
MARTHA S. 179 
 
 perturbed imagination, or to that morbid 
 excitement, — that preternatural radiance, 
 which disease [or opium] will sometimes 
 impart to the intellect, and which resem- 
 bles the delirious splendour it can some- 
 times kindle in the eye." Such was the 
 state of mind of both the young persons 
 whose death is narrated in this volume : it 
 was not the rapture of imagination, excited 
 by either material or spiritual stimulants, 
 but the joy of reason, elevated, sustained, 
 and sanctified, by faith. 
 
 You have seen, Reader, in the foregoing 
 narratives, two bright and beautiful, though 
 by no means unfrequent examples of early 
 piety. Such as these are continually oc- 
 curring and may be repeated, if you are 
 willing, in your own case : and while your 
 heart is softened, it may be hoped, by the 
 contemplation of them, for receiving the im- 
 pression of divine truth, I would lay before 
 
ISO EARLY PIETY. 
 
 you a summary of the motives to youthful 
 piety. 
 
 It is commanded by God. " Remember 
 now thy Creator in the days of thy youth." 
 Whose ordinance is this 1 God's. The 
 eternal and omnipotent God interposes 
 with his authority, and enjoins the practice 
 of piety upon every youth of either sex. 
 And he is a rebel against heaven, and set- 
 ting out in life a traitor to the Most High, 
 who is not giving his heart to love God — 
 his life to glorify Him. Religion is not 
 only your duty at some time, but your duty 
 now. It never will or can be more binding 
 upon your conscience than it is at this 
 moment. 
 
 Youth is the only season of which you 
 can be certain. You may die, as millions 
 have done, in the morning of your life. 
 Your sun may go down ere it is yet noon ; 
 and, in that case, should you neglect reli- 
 gion, no other opportunity of attending to 
 
EARLY PIETY. 181 
 
 its momentous duties will ever be afforded 
 you. There may be but a step between- 
 you and death ; and from death to the 
 bottomless pit is but one step more, for all 
 who die without religion. 
 
 If you should live, and live to old age, 
 the great probability is, that if you neg- 
 lect religion in youth, you will neglect it 
 Jorever. The mind is never likely to be 
 more at leisure, nor more inclined to reli- 
 gion than it is at this moment ; on the con- 
 trary, its impediments and its disinclinations 
 are sure to increase. Moreover, nothing 
 short of the grace of God can convert the 
 soul ; and is he likely to bestow that grace 
 hereafter, which is refused and despised 
 now ? By far the greater part of those 
 who ever become pious, are made so in 
 their youth. If, therefore, you decide to 
 put off this concern now, you will put it 
 off, in all probability, forever. Now or 
 never is the alternative. You ought to feel 
 
182 EARLY PIETY. 
 
 as if this were the only accepted time ; as 
 if all eternity depended on the present hour; 
 for it probably does. 
 
 Youth is the most favourable time, and 
 that on every account. Cares, anxieties, 
 and perplexities are few — the faculties of 
 the soul are vigorous — the senses and ener- 
 gies of the body are lively — the heart 
 susceptible — the conscience tender — the 
 habits flexible. 
 
 J T is granted and no plainer truth appears 
 Our most important are our earliest years j 
 The mind improvable and soft, with ease 
 Imbibes and copies what she hears and sees ; 
 And through life's labyrinth holds fast the clue, 
 That education gives her, false or true. 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 When the mind is full of the cares of 
 a family, or of a business, or the heart 
 hardened by a long course of sin, or the 
 conscience benumbed by repeated acts of 
 
EARLY PIETY. 1S3 
 
 resistance, or the soul grown carelessly 
 familiar with all the most solemn topics of 
 religion, is it then a more suitable or likely 
 time for beginning attention to piety % 
 
 Early piety is propitious to our tempo- 
 ral comfort, as well as to our eternal wel- 
 fare. " Godliness is profitable to all things, 
 having the promise of the life that now is, 
 and of that which is to come," — 1 Tim., 
 iii. 8- I£ on the contrary, it were inimical 
 to all our interests in this world ; if it pre- 
 vented us froui ever gaining wealth, and 
 doomed us to abject poverty ; if it drove 
 us out from society, and confined us to con- 
 vents and monasteries, yea, to caves and 
 dens of the earth ; if it made us objects of 
 universal dread and detestation ; if it im- 
 paired our health, and required us to end a 
 miserable life by the agony of martyrdom ; 
 if it converted earth into a wilderness, 
 where not one spot of verdure, nor one 
 spring of consolation was to be found; if> 
 
184 EARLY PIETY. 
 
 in short, it transformed our world into a 
 purgatory, and our sojourn in it, into a 
 term of unmixed torment ; still if it were 
 necessary for the eternal salvation of our 
 immortal soul, we should be fools to neglect 
 it ; how much more then, when it blesses 
 us for time, as well as makes us happy for 
 eternity ; when it softens the cares, sweet- 
 ens the comforts, protects the interests of 
 earth, as well as guides us to the felicity of 
 heaven. It guards our health by keeping 
 us from those vices which impair it ; plants 
 a fence around our property by saving it 
 from those sins that waste it ; preserves 
 our peace of mind, by restraining us from 
 those actions which disturb it ; makes us 
 frugal, industrious, and trust- worthy ; and 
 thus spreads its wings over all that is most 
 valuable in life ; while, on those very 
 wings, it raises us to glory, honour, and im- 
 mortality. 
 
EARLY PIETY. 185 
 
 It is the most happy life, and can you 
 be happy too soon? Its ways are ways of 
 pleasantness, and all its paths are peace. 
 Its privileges and its duties, its present in- 
 fluence and its future prospects, all lead to 
 happiness. If it could make Clementine 
 and Martha peaceful, composed, happy in 
 death ; if it could enable them, and thou- 
 sands like them, to turn with a smile from 
 the altar to the tomb, to accept with tran- 
 quillity the shroud instead of the bridal at- 
 tire, and to quit with unmurmuring acquies- 
 cence the most brilliant prospects, for the 
 dark valley of the shadow of death ; if its 
 capacity and power to bless could not be 
 destroyed even by these circumstances ; if 
 it can make the soul joyous under the up- 
 lifted dart of the King of Terrors — can it 
 be otherwise than a never-failing spring of 
 delight amidst the scenes, the trials, the 
 comforts, and the activities of life I 
 
 It is the most honourable life : and can 
 
1 So EARLY PIETY. 
 
 you be invested with its rich and valuable 
 distinctions too early? It is said, that 
 "Jabez was more honourable than his 
 brethren," — 1 Chron. iv. 9. And why ? Be- 
 cause he was more pious. God bears the 
 same testimony, where he says, " Since 
 thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast 
 been honourable, and I have loved thee," 
 — Isaiah, xliii. 4. The pious are honour- 
 able in their birth ; for they are born from 
 above, born of God, and are his sons and 
 daughters by regeneration. They are 
 honourable by their titles and relations; 
 for they are the citizens of Zion, the ser- 
 vants of Christ, the wards of angels, the 
 children of God. They are honourable by 
 their character, for they are the possessors 
 of truth, the lovers of virtue, the conquer- 
 ors of Satan, the competitors for the crown 
 of glory, and the imitators of God. They 
 are honourable in their destiny, for they 
 are going on to sit down with Christ on his 
 
EARLY PIETY. 187 
 
 throne, even as he overcame and is sat 
 down with his Father, on his throne. They 
 are honourable now ; their glory shall 
 shine forth at the last day, when the hon- 
 ours of earth and time shall set amidst the 
 smoke of a burning world ; and their hon- 
 ours shall flourish upon their brow with 
 amaranthyne beauty and freshness through 
 eternity. 
 
 Piety is the most useful life : and can 
 you too speedily begin to be a blessing to 
 others ? Religion will keep you from doing 
 harm by the poison of bad principles, or 
 the silent pestilence of an evil example. It 
 will keep you as you pass along the path 
 of life, from seducing others into the bye- 
 paths of immorality and infidelity ; from 
 increasing the groans and multiplying the 
 tears of humanity ; from blasting the tem- 
 poral interests and ruining the immortal 
 souls of your fellow-creatures. " My 
 principles," said a dying infidel, " have poi- 
 
188 EARLY PIETY. 
 
 soned my friend, my extravagance has 
 beggared my wife, and my example has 
 corrupted my boy." Horrible confession ! 
 Religion would have prevented all this. 
 It leads none by its influence to the hospi- 
 tal, to the workhouse, to the jail, to the 
 hulks, to the gibbet, or to that last general 
 and eternal receptacle of lost souls — the 
 bottomless pit : on the contrary, it tends to 
 keep from all these. It is a source of in- 
 struction to the ignorant, of alms to the 
 needy, of consolation to the wretched, of 
 virtue to the immoral, of holiness to the 
 wicked, and salvation to the lost. It bless- 
 es by the silent yet potent influence of ex- 
 ample ; by the efficacy of prayer ; by the 
 diffusion of property ; by the active power 
 of a holy life ; and the passive power of a 
 happy death. Would you begin the world 
 and pass through it, then, a blessing to your 
 species, " Remember your Creator in the 
 days of your youth." 
 
EARLY PI ETY. 189 
 
 Religion in youth will, if you should 
 live to be old, accumulate upon you the 
 comforts, the honours, and the respect of 
 an aged disciple. Yours will be the hoary 
 crown of righteousness, the old man's 
 glory. Yours will be the calm summer 
 evening of a long and holy day. The 
 young will look up to you with veneration, 
 the middle aged for counsel, and all with 
 affection. There is something both of aw- 
 ful and of amiable goodness in a disciple of 
 Christ, that has passed in honour the pro- 
 bation of seventy or eighty years. Not 
 only is he esteemed and valued in the 
 church, but even the infidel is abashed be- 
 fore his august and God-like presence. 
 
 It is a powerful motive to early piety, 
 that it would gladden the hearts of your 
 parents by putting an end to the most 
 distressing solicitude concerning you, an- 
 swering their most fervent prayers, gratify- 
 ing their most fervent wishes, rewarding 
 
190 EARLY PIETY, 
 
 their most anxious labours, and awakening 
 their most exalted hopes. O, gladden the 
 soul of your father, and cause your mo- 
 ther's heart to sing for joy. 
 
 Multitudes have regretted that they 
 were not pious in youth, none have regret- 
 ted that they were. From the midst of 
 deep and complicated cares, sorrows, sins, 
 and reproaches on earth ; and from the 
 midst of still deeper and more complicated 
 torment in hell, many have exclaimed with 
 a horrid emphasis of wo, " Would to God 
 I had remembered my Creator in the days 
 of my youth." On the other hand, how 
 many, during the trials of their pilgrimage 
 below, upon the bed of death, and surround- 
 ed by the excellent glory in heaven, have 
 said, in a rapture of gratitude, "Adored be 
 that grace which led my youthful feet into 
 the paths of piety." 
 
 Religion commenced in youth, and sus- 
 tained through a long life in unvarying 
 
EARLY PIETY. 191 
 
 ■consistency, will be followed and crowned 
 with future honours in the heavenly world. 
 There are different degrees of glory in 
 heaven ; the nature of the case proves it, 
 and the word of God confirms it : and the 
 fact is presented in Scripture as an incentive 
 to diligence, a stimulus to exertion. Sal- 
 vation, I know, is all of grace; and justifi- 
 cation before God, is by faith without 
 works ; no man will have the smallest 
 ground for boasting that he has deserved or 
 obtained heaven by his own doings : one 
 universal shout of " Grace, Grace" will 
 burst from the lips of redeemed millions as 
 they turn their eyes to the Lamb who has 
 bought them with his blood — but still, there 
 will be degrees of glory. Look up by faith 
 into the heavenly kingdom, as it is reveal- 
 ed in the Book of God ; see the many 
 thrones that are set, and the many crowns 
 that are prepared for the people of God, — 
 .ask the question, Whose are the highest 
 
192 EARLY PIETY. 
 
 seats, and the richest diadems? and the 
 oracle declares, Theirs, who live longest, 
 and do most for the glory of GodinChrist 
 Jesus our Lord. 
 
 Wherefore, remember your Creator 
 
 IN THE DAYS OF YOUR YOUTH. 
 
 — _ 2 
 
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