Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN
 
 t *?-,
 
 ".ftHS ON BAH1.V
 
 LETTERS 
 
 IMPORTANCE, DUTY, AND ADVANTAGES 
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 HEADS OF FAMILIES, THE MAN OF BUSINESS, THE LOVER 
 OF NATURE, THE STUDENT, AND THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 And is there aught in sleep can charm the wise? 
 To lie in dead oblivion, losing half 
 The fleeting moments of too short a life? 
 Total extinction of the enlightened soul ! 
 
 Thomson's Season* Summer. 
 
 We are not of the night, nor of darkness : therefore let ;i< 
 not sleep as do others. \Th*>- 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 PRINTED FOR TAYLOR AND HESSEY, 
 No. 93, FLEET STREET.
 
 T. Miller, Printer, Noble Street, Cheaptidf.
 
 TO 
 
 MRS. HANNAH MORE. 
 
 MADAM, 
 
 I AM aware that it is frequently the 
 custom of those who are placed in simi- 
 lar situations to myself, to profess their 
 hatred of flattery, and their determina- 
 tion to prove it by their conduct, and 
 yet falsify their own professions, by 
 conveying their adulation in the very 
 language which is employed to reprehend 
 it. But it is enough for me, to recollect 
 that I am dedicating this series of letters 
 to one, whose life is influenced by the 
 principles, and whose opinions are formed 
 upon the truths of the Bible, to check 
 the feeling, however strong it may be, 
 that would lead me to say what I may
 
 still conscientiously think. If praise 
 could have produced in your mind those 
 bad effects which too frequently attend it, 
 you would long ago have been the vic- 
 tim of its jfascination ; and I should be 
 much too late, as well as too inconsider- 
 abk, to add to its evil consequences. 
 
 With regard to the subject of the 
 succeeding Letters, I can only say, 
 Madam, that it is connected in some 
 measure with the leading principles 
 which have been enforced by your writ- 
 ings. It is an important branch of 
 " Christian morals," and forms a distin- 
 guishing feature in "practical piety:" 
 it is of great importance to the young, 
 whose interests have always been so 
 near your heart, and its adoption would 
 be of essential benefit in that large and 
 elevated class of society, whose " man- 
 ners" have received a new impression 
 from your delineation of them : whilst
 
 the motives from which it ought to pro- 
 ceed, are such as are inculcated in the 
 writings of the great apostle of the Gen- 
 tiles, and are presented in the pages of 
 the whole of the sacred volume. 
 
 That you, Madam, the morning of 
 whose life has been so beneficially, and 
 consequently, so happily employed, may 
 enjoy a calmness of mind, and a " peace 
 which passeth all understanding," pro- 
 portionably increasing as the shades of 
 evening advance around you, is the 
 sincere wish, and shall form the earnest 
 prayer of, 
 
 Madam, 
 
 your very obedient 
 
 and devoted servant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 August, 1818.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IT is to be lamented that the world has been 
 deprived of a considerable portion of useful 
 knowledge and valuable instruction, by men 
 of eminent talents declining to employ them 
 upon homely and practical subjects. 
 
 There are but few, comparatively speak- 
 ing, who possess sufficient information, and 
 are at the same time addicted to that habit of 
 attention and application which is necessary 
 to compose a treatise upon any subject. And 
 of those few, some are prevented by the im- 
 portunate avocations of business, others are 
 deterred by a diffidence of their own abilities ; 
 while those who can command both time and 
 confidence, generally follow the direction in 
 which their taste has led their genius, or draw 
 from those stores which their profession has 
 compelled them to accumulate.
 
 Thus, while the superiority of some minds 
 almost disdains such topics as afford but little 
 room for the display of their learning or their 
 wit, the particular bias of others entirely over- 
 looks them. The benevolence of Addison, 
 however, happily overcame this literary pride ; 
 and to him, together with his coadjutors and 
 his imitators, we are in no small degree in- 
 debted for that refinement of manners, and 
 correctness of morals, which distinguish our 
 own country. But notwithstanding our Bri- 
 tish Essayists, have so admirably and so suc- 
 cessfully exposed the follies, and censured the 
 vices of their respective cotemporaries, an 
 observer of no extraordinary penetration may 
 still discover in every department of society 
 much to ridicule, and more to reprehend. 
 There being no prying Spectator in the pre- 
 sent day to mark the delinquencies of private 
 life, no busy Tatler to report them to the 
 world, and no friendly Guardian to caution 
 the rising generation against their commission ; 
 fearing that talents might never stoop to the 
 consideration of so simple a subject as that 
 which occupies the following pages; but at
 
 the same time being convinced of its impor- 
 tance, and concerned to find it so generally 
 neglected, the Author has been induced to 
 submit this little work to the public. 
 
 It not unfrequently happens that the po- 
 pularity of a name procures that success for a 
 publication which its intrinsic merits do not 
 deserve; and the peculiar excellence of a 
 production sometimes confers that distinction 
 upon a name which the writer does not antici- 
 pate. But the Author being aware that his 
 name is not of sufficient importance to give 
 celebrity to his work, and conscious that his 
 work will ever be too obscure to reflect lustre 
 upon his name, feels a greater satisfaction in 
 knowing he shall enjoy the privilege of con- 
 cealment, than in wishing to obtain the honour 
 of publicity. He congratulates himself upon 
 thus escaping those anxieties which so often 
 agitate the candidates for literary fame, being 
 equally free from the apprehension of tarnish- 
 ing laurels already won, and the desire of ac- 
 quiring new ones, from the dread of censure 
 and the hope of praise. He will also escape 
 the suspicion of having been influenced, in 
 
 b
 
 his humble attempt to destroy the palace of 
 Somnus, by the same motive which induced 
 Erostratus to burn the temple of Diana. 
 
 The Author is sensible that he has a pow- 
 erful antagonist to contend with. Should the 
 weapons he has selected be found improper 
 for the combat, or his own strength unequal 
 to his foe; should he fail in every instance 
 completely to defeat his enemy, perhaps he 
 may so far weaken him, as to render him an 
 easier conquest to one who is furnished with 
 more suitable arms, and is able to wield them 
 better. If he be altogether unsuccessful in 
 the engagement, he hopes, at least, to stimu- 
 late some generous mind to accomplish what 
 he has attempted. 
 
 The following observations on the advan- 
 tages of early rising, and the evils of the con- 
 trary practice, are offered in the form of Let- 
 ters, the epistolary style appearing to be best 
 adapted to the homeliness of the subject. 
 Otherwise, either the fastidious ear of the re- 
 fined reader would have been offended by the 
 frequent repetition of common-place expres- 
 sions, or the good sense of the more judicious
 
 would have been disgusted with the affected 
 periphrases which must have been resorted to 
 in order to avoid them. These Letters are 
 addressed to persons whose ages and pursuits 
 are different, with the view of rendering the 
 remarks which they contain more immediately 
 applicable to the circumstances of the reader, 
 and therefore more likely to enforce convic- 
 tion upon the mind, and to induce a reforma- 
 tion in the habits. 
 
 Should the Author, when mingling here- 
 after in society, ever have the happiness to 
 hear one parent say, in allusion to these pages, 
 ' By them I was first led to improve those 
 hours which were formerly consumed in sleep, 
 and thus I have not only been able to perform 
 with ease the duties which before were often 
 neglected, but I have also experienced the 
 satisfaction of having set a good example to 
 my children : ' Should he ever hear one lover 
 of nature observe, ' To them I am indebted 
 for the contemplation of scenes more lovely 
 than I had ever beheld, and the pictures which 
 creation now unfolds to my sight, are more 
 beautiful than those which poetic imagery once
 
 presented to my fancy : ' Should he ever hear 
 one student remark, * There was a time when 
 my health was impaired in the same propor- 
 tion as my knowledge increased, but they 
 taught to me promote at once the vigour of 
 my body, and the improvement of my mind : ' 
 but especially, should he ever hear one chris- 
 tian declare, ' my devotions have never been 
 so ardent, and my faith has never been so 
 strong, as in those seasons which they persuad- 
 ed me to snatch from oblivion,' he will not 
 consider his time mis-spent, or his labour ill- 
 bestowed.
 
 .LETTERS 
 
 ON 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE, DOTY, AND ADVANTAGES 
 OF 
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 I HARDLY think it necessary to 
 begin this letter in the manner in which 
 many are commenced, I mean, with an 
 apology. Had our friendship been less 
 sincere, or had our acquaintance with each 
 other been of a shorter duration, I might 
 have troubled you with a long list of suc- 
 cessive engagements, and important avo- 
 cations, which have prevented my earlier 
 acknowledgment of the kindness which I 
 so lately experienced whilst residing under
 
 your roof. The pleasures of that intimacy 
 which we formed when at school, have been 
 agreeably renewed ; and the various scenes 
 which we have since witnessed, and the dif- 
 ferent spheres of action in which we have 
 moved, have failed to obliterate that early 
 enthusiasm which so often animates the 
 mind of the boy, but ceases to exert its do- 
 minion over the reason of the man. The pro- 
 fessions which are made of future faithful- 
 ness, as they arise from the contracted views 
 of present interest, are generally forgotten 
 with the particular circumstances from 
 which they spring : and I cannot help looking 
 upon those occasional instances which are 
 to be met with, of the early attachment of 
 youth surmounting the obstacles which are 
 opposed to them, with sentiments of pe- 
 culiar satisfaction. And I am sure you 
 will believe me when I tell you, that whilst 
 my late visit to your hospitable mansion at 
 Fairleigh received an addition to its enjoy- 
 ments by recollections of the past, its agree- 
 able engagements will afford me a subject 
 for remembrance in future.
 
 EARLY RISING. 3 
 
 Attached as I am to those pleasures 
 which society affords, and having so little 
 of the recluse in my disposition, or of the 
 anchorite in my habits, nothing is so cal- 
 culated to suit my taste, as the participa- 
 tion in the little incidents of a domestic 
 circle. And if any thing were wanting to 
 complete the gratification which I derived 
 from your individual society, and from the 
 beautiful scenery of nature with which I 
 was surrounded, it was amply supplied in 
 the company of the amiable members of 
 your family. When I want a living repre- 
 sentation of unaffected manners and cordial 
 hospitality, connected with that softening 
 sweetness which maternal tenderness throws 
 over the character, I shall immediately re- 
 vert to Mrs. G.: and though I am not prone 
 to any thing like extravagance in expres- 
 sion, yet I do not remember in any instance 
 to have found a young female in whom I 
 was more interested than in Charlotte, or a 
 young man to whom I felt more attached 
 than to Charles; whilst the junior branches 
 of the family served to call into exercise
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 those feelings of tenderness which are so 
 benignant in their nature, and so beneficial 
 in then- operation. Much of the comfort 
 of every family depends upon its internal 
 regulation and correct government ; and the 
 enjoyment of an occasional visitor is ma- 
 terially increased or diminished, in propor- 
 tion as these are observed or neglected. 
 
 But do not think, my dear William, that 
 I am forgetting my own principles, and en- 
 deavouring to make up for auy neglect of an 
 earlier acknowledgment of your kindness, 
 by paying in flattery what I owe in grati- 
 tude. The expression of friendship that 
 falls from the lips, is only valuable as it 
 proceeds from the heart; and the profes- 
 sions of regard which so readily flow from 
 the pen, are only to be considered sincere, 
 in proportion as they evidence themselves 
 by the conduct of the life. Of all the de- 
 testable instances of treachery, none was so 
 base as that which betrayed with a kiss ; 
 and if my own feelings and inclination did 
 not prompt me to the sincerity which I am 
 about to manifest, your repeated request
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 that I would faithfully point out to you any 
 deficiencies which I could perceive in your 
 family arrangements, or any errors that I 
 had detected in your individual conduct, 
 would at once preclude that faithless shame, 
 which so frequently disguises its odious 
 qualities, by assuming the specious appel- 
 lation of a proper delicacy. 
 
 Under any other feelings than those by 
 which I have professed myself to be actua- 
 ted, I should have been led to adopt a veiy 
 different line of conduct from that which I 
 now intend to pursue. What the world 
 calls politeness might have whispered in my 
 ear, that finding fault was a rude return for 
 a favour bestowed, and that it was a very 
 questionable mode of expressing a sense of 
 obligation, by interfering with the arrange- 
 ments, and censuring the domestic economy 
 of the family in which that obligation had 
 been conferred. But sincerity, and (the 
 only source from whence a genuine sin- 
 cerity can flow,) that sense of duty which 
 the doctrines of the Christian religion pro- 
 duce, will teach a very different lesson; and
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 the recollection of the universal injunction 
 of " doing unto others as we would be done 
 unto," serves at once to remove every scru- 
 ple from my mind, and to add greater zeal 
 to my conscientious resolution. 
 
 Do not be alarmed, my dear friend, 
 when I begin by telling you, that I not only 
 perceived with equal surprise and regret 
 what appeared to me a very considerable 
 deficiency in your family arrangements, but 
 that the error to which I allude, was con- 
 nected with the commencement of every 
 returning day; that it was not an occasional, 
 but an habitually repeated, delinquency; 
 and that I very much fear, it is likely that 
 it will not only affix a stigma to the little 
 social community of which you are the 
 head, but that its evil effects will be ex- 
 tended down to the succeeding generation, 
 on which you so often look with so paternal 
 and anxious an interest. You will guess 
 that I refer to the many, many hours con- 
 sumed in bed, instead of being devoted to 
 the numberless beneficial employments in 
 which they might have been spent. And I
 
 EAR1Y RISING. 7 
 
 really cannot help thinking, that, as your 
 example is of so much importance to those 
 who look up to you for a pattern, if I can 
 convince you of the folly the worse than 
 folly the guilt of this prejudicial habit, 
 you will be not only neglecting your duty 
 to yourself, but also to those in whose wel- 
 fare you are so greatly concerned, if you do 
 not endeavour at once to conquer it, and to 
 be as instrumental in leading others to effect 
 a similar victory, as you have been uninten- 
 tionally the means of confirming them in 
 their error. 
 
 It is not at all unlikely that ere this you 
 may have smiled at the importance which I 
 appear to have attached to what has seldom 
 occupied your thoughts; and been even 
 pleased to think, that the formidable charge 
 which you had anticipated, has ended in an 
 arraignment to which, though you cannot 
 plead " not guilty," you suppose that you 
 have much to urge in mitigation of punish- 
 ment. But, my dear friend, now that I 
 have assumed the gravity and arrayed my- 
 self in the imposing dignity of the judge, I
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 am determined to prosecute you with the 
 utmost severity of the law; and though I 
 shall listen with patience to all that you can 
 urge in your defence, yet I am resolved that 
 the emotions of friendly attachment shall 
 iiot interfere with the sterner justice of my 
 judicial character. 
 
 It is a very possible case that you may 
 be led to suspect that I shall not be suffici- 
 ently disinterested ; that I am attached to 
 the peculiar habits of my own life, and 
 therefore censure those of others which do 
 not agree with them. But, whilst I am 
 very willing to acknowledge that a long 
 continued course in any particular line of 
 conduct serves to excite our prejudices in 
 its favour, yet I would also at the same 
 time remind you, that if that course was 
 originally adopted upon the convictions of 
 judgment and the dictates of conscience, a 
 perseverance in it ought only to increase 
 its importance, and to render the testimony 
 of such a man of superior value and greater 
 weight. And when in addition to this it is 
 found, that this course resulted from a tho-
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 rough persuasion of the error of that which 
 had been abandoned, and was continued on 
 a contrast of the advantages of the one 
 with the evils of the other, it surely will be 
 no objection that the party who recom- 
 mends, possesses all the knowledge which 
 experience affords ; whilst the party who 
 opposes, labours under all the disadvan- 
 tages which the want of it occasions. 
 
 But I really feel, my dear William, 
 that f am now doing you an injustice, in 
 believing for one moment that you can se- 
 riously defend the indolent and pernicious 
 habit to which I have alluded. An excuse 
 is surely all you will attempt to urge ; and 
 even this I would not admit, if you should 
 venture it. I must in your case pronounce 
 it inexcusable : and whilst as a friend I so 
 very deeply regret that you should be daily 
 committing what appears to me a very 
 culpable sin, I am also anxious that you 
 should partake of the pleasures, and share 
 with myself the advantages, which the 
 practice of early rising affords. But if you 
 should be inclined to adduce any extenuat- 
 
 B5
 
 10 
 
 ing circumstances, I feel so confident of 
 the high ground on which I stand, that 
 I shall not only be happy in meeting them, 
 but must anticipate your complete surren- 
 der to my opinions. And should that sur- 
 render of the judgment lead to a corre- 
 sponding change in the conduct, I shall 
 rejoice ; and I am sure you will not regret 
 that I ever alluded to the subject. 
 
 But though I did not begin with an 
 apology, 1 will end with one. I am in- 
 truding upon your valuable time : to the 
 writer it is not of so much importance, as 
 he has most likely lived, and thought, and 
 moved, and acted, two or three hours more 
 to day than you have; but to the reader 
 who has lost those precious hours, the en- 
 gagements of the day are more than suf- 
 ficient for the extent of its duration. 
 
 Adieu.
 
 EARLY RISING. 11 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 MY VERY DEAR SIR, 
 
 YOUR reply to my letter was just 
 such an one as I had reason to expect 
 from the knowledge which I possess of 
 your character, and the proofs which I 
 have seen of the ingenuousness of your 
 disposition. You are quite right in sup- 
 posing that I shall consider it no labour to 
 resume the subject to which I before al- 
 luded, and to afford you such further in- 
 ducements to overcome a most disgraceful 
 and destructive habit as my own experience 
 may suggest. You are not the only one 
 who regrets having neglected to form the 
 habit of early rising when young; and I 
 will not pretend to conceal, what your bet- 
 ter judgment must convince you of, that it 
 will be a much less easy task now, than it 
 would have been thirty years -ago. But if
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 there are greater difficulties in the way, 
 yet there are some inducements calculated 
 to operate upon you now, of a more power- 
 ful nature than there would have been then. 
 In youth the question is merely personal : 
 if the self-indulgence which the practice of 
 lying in bed longer than the requirements 
 of nature demand be criminal, its bad ef- 
 fects are confined to the individual ; but 
 when placed at the head of a family, there 
 is the double responsibility which is at- 
 tached to particular and relative guilt. The 
 influence which ought to be exerted over 
 others to induce them to follow what is 
 right, becomes a talent abused, when this 
 use is neglected to be made of it ; and 
 really I am most inclined to be earnest 
 whilst dwelling upon this my confessedly 
 darling theme, when I recollect that in the 
 observance or neglect of it, so much of 
 the comfort or [uneasiness of every member 
 of a family is involved. 
 
 But it is far from being too late to cor- 
 rect your error. I am very well aware 
 of the power, of habit ; that by repetition,
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 those acts, which at first were difficult to 
 be performed, are done quite mechanically ; 
 and that those manual operations, which at 
 first required the closest attention of the 
 mental faculties, are afterwards effected 
 without any perceptible intellectual exer- 
 tion. But the great difficulty in overcom- 
 ing any particular habit consists in this : 
 by repetition it appears to be almost na- 
 tural; a part as it were of our physical 
 constitution, and connected with the very 
 first principles of our bodily conformation,; 
 and thus, the reason, no longer directed to 
 the consideration of how far it is right or 
 wrong, deserts its proper office, and takes 
 its station very frequently on the side which 
 it ought to oppose. But where the voice of 
 conscience and the dictates of duty are 
 resorted to, where the judgment is suffered 
 to exert itself unbiassed by prejudice and 
 partiality, there we have only to arouse 
 the conscience and convince the judgment, 
 in order to lead to the exercise of these 
 powers which shall at once break off the 
 tetters of habit and chains of custom.
 
 14 LETTERS ON 
 
 Where, notwithstanding such a conviction 
 is produced, habit is still suffered to prevail 
 over conscience, \ve have a lamentable in- 
 stance of human frailty, and a melancholy 
 proof of the debasement which sin has pro- 
 duced. Whilst the slave of his passions 
 may adopt the sentiment, 
 
 " Video meliora proboque, deteriora sequor," 
 
 I hope my friend will nearer resemble the 
 character which our immortal Milton has 
 sketched, and which forms so perfect a 
 contrast to the idea of the heathen poet : 
 
 Approve the good, and follow what I approve." 
 
 Amidst all the inventions which have 
 been introduced within these few years, I 
 do not remember to have seen a single in- 
 stance of any letters patent having been 
 granted, " for a new and effectual method 
 of making time!" And yet I cannot but 
 think this would be a much more valuable 
 discovery than the philosopher's stone it- 
 self; inasmuch as the one would put into
 
 EARLY RISING. 15 
 
 our possession what the easily-created gold 
 of the other could never have purchased. 
 Now, though I do not intend to obtain 
 any exclusive privilege either of using or 
 of communicating to others this discovery, 
 yet I certainly do think that the adoption 
 of the daily habit of early rising, would 
 most completely effect all that could be 
 desired from such an invention. Only sup- 
 pose, for one moment, a man engaged m 
 some important undertaking, one which 
 required the exertion of all his powers ; to 
 which he must bring all the Stores of his 
 memory, and the fruits of past diligence, 
 and on which he must exercise every fa- 
 culty that he possessed ; whilst the object 
 to be attained was to be effected within a 
 limited period ; or all his labour, his fa- 
 tigue, his anxiety, his earnestness, and his 
 assiduity would be of no avail. Would he 
 not readily promise a portion of his ex- 
 pected reward to the friend, who could 
 reveal to him a plan, by which the hours he 
 had calculated upon as intervening between 
 the time of the commencement of his un- 
 dertaking, and the period for its comple-
 
 16 LETTERS ON 
 
 tion, could be nearly doubled ? by which 
 he might live as long again as those who 
 were passing through the same apparent 
 number of days ? I will neither antici- 
 pate your reply, nor extend my letter, by 
 dwelling on the application. You, my 
 dear friend, have a mighty work to per- 
 form : you have a heaven to seek, a hell to 
 shun, a wicked heart to subdue, and a cor- 
 rupt nature to overcome. The space al- 
 lotted you for this purpose is very short, 
 and I point out to you a way by which it 
 may be lengthened. 
 
 But though I cannot but consider the 
 value of time an argument sufficiently 
 strong in itself, without any other, to con- 
 vince you of the importance of the habit 
 which I urge upon you, yet I will not dwell 
 upon this, as the hint alone must be suf- 
 ficient to lead you to further reflection. 
 My object is rather to direct your attention 
 to some few circumstances connected with 
 the practice which I am recommending, 
 which might not have immediately occurred 
 to you. Every one must acquiesce in the 
 proposition that " time flies ; and there-
 
 EARLY RISING. 17 
 
 fore we should make the best use of it :** 
 but this has been so often repeated, that 
 unless something else can be advanced, 1 
 fear I shall not succeed in making many 
 converts. Would the generality of men 
 but adopt for their motto in its best and 
 noblest sense " Dum vivimus vivamus,*" 
 I should not now be lamenting a prevalent 
 custom, which, however it may enslave 
 those who are neither manly, virtuous, nor 
 religious enough to overcome it, will, I 
 hope, be no longer the disgrace of my 
 
 friend. 
 
 Yours, very sincerely. 
 
 * Dr. Johnson iu alluding to Dr. Doddridge's extended 
 translation of these words, which formed his family motto, 
 has pronounced it to be the best epigram in our language. 
 We present our readers with it, as amply justifying the 
 high commendation of this cautious dispenser of liis 
 praises. 
 
 " Live, while you live," the epicure would say, 
 " And seize the pleasures of the present day." 
 " Live while you live," the sacred preacher cries ; 
 " And give to God each moment as it flies." 
 Lord ! in my views let both united be ; 
 J live in pleasure when I live to thee !
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 THERE are very few errors which 
 we commit, and very few sins of which we 
 are guilty, whose bad effects are confined 
 to their immediate consequences. These 
 are generally seen as more directly result- 
 ing from them j and therefore they who en- 
 deavour to point out the impropriety of 
 those errors, or the guilt of those sins, lay 
 the greatest stress upon what appears to 
 carry conviction with it. But there are 
 certain collateral disadvantages (if I may so 
 express myself), which accompany such 
 actions as are radically and intrinsically 
 wrong. Among these, the influence of ex- 
 ample may be regarded as one of the most 
 conspicuous. In order that you may more 
 clearly comprehend my meaning, I will en- 
 deavour to point out to you one of these
 
 EARLY RISING. 19 
 
 evils, which is the constant attendant upon 
 the prejudicial habit of indulging yourself 
 in bed. Independent of the loss of time 
 which it occasions, and the injury which it 
 does to the health, which may be looked 
 upon as the immediate and direct effects of 
 this custom, it induces an indecision of 
 character which is every way incompatible 
 with energy of mind, and strength of reso- 
 lution. There are very few mental quali- 
 ties of greater importance in our intercourse 
 with mankind than that of decision : your 
 individual experience has often convinced 
 you of this, and the calamities which have 
 been produced by the want of it, have 
 fallen upon several within the sphere of 
 your acquaintance : whilst, if it were neces- 
 sary, I could direct your attention to a 
 more extensive scene, and point to you 
 several events recorded in the page of his- 
 tory, which would serve still more forcibly 
 to prove the value of this principal ingre- 
 dient in the composition of a very great 
 character. Now let me put it to your bet- 
 ter judgment, whether the habitual laziness
 
 20 LETTERS ON 
 
 in which you daily indulge, is not altogether 
 inconsistent with this ? If the only reason 
 why you have not long ago overcome this 
 habit, is the sacrifice the conquest would 
 cost you, let me ask you, what is your 
 opinion of the drunkard or the glutton who 
 makes this his excuse ? Does it tend for 
 one moment to palliate his crime, or to 
 lessen the disgrace which his conduct has 
 occasioned ? And though I feel very sorry 
 to rank my friend on a level with such 
 characters, yet I must in candour tell him, 
 that the same principle which prevents 
 them from abandoning their sin, operates 
 in encouraging his ; and that the absence 
 of that determination which would enable 
 them to discard their disgraceful propensi- 
 ties, has occasioned his continuance of a 
 custom, which his conscience and his rea- 
 son unite in condemning. And I must 
 also tell you, that it is the abuse of the 
 blessings of Providence, which in both in- 
 stances attaches a peculiar turpitude to the 
 crime which is committed. You are not a 
 stranger to the pleasures which are always
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 the attendants upon an act of commendable 
 self-denial. You, I am sure, have often 
 felt that satisfaction which has resulted 
 from the conquest of some tyrant passion, 
 and have wondered how you could ever 
 have been its slave. 
 
 " The joys of conquest are the joys of man j" 
 
 and if you wish to enjoy all the pleasures of 
 a triumph where its laurels are unstained 
 with blood, and its palm of victory is un- 
 steeped in tears, let me intreat you daily to 
 obtain them, by manifesting a superiority to 
 this slothful habit; and I will promise you, 
 that not a sigh shall escape from you on the 
 recollection of the downfal of your enemy. 
 Perhaps a stronger argument for the 
 practice which I am recommending to you 
 cannot be urged, than an appeal to your 
 own experience. Let me inquire of you, 
 when peculiar circumstances of business, 
 or other sufficiently strong inducements 
 have led you to rise earlier than usual, 
 what have been your feelings ? Have you 
 not been surprised at your past insensibility,
 
 1E1TKRS ON 
 
 that could suffer you to lose so much valu- 
 able time? Have you not despised yourself 
 for having given way to what is generally 
 called an indulgence, but which you have 
 found to be a complete obstacle to the 
 most exquisite of all indulgencies ? Have 
 you not, in spite of your recollections of 
 past habits, experienced something like a 
 feeling of contempt for those who were still 
 locked in sleep, instead of exerting the fa- 
 culties nature had bestowed on them ? who 
 were " tossed in a sea of dreams," instead 
 of employing their judgments when they 
 were most capable of exercise ? Have you 
 not felt the force of the sentiment, 
 
 " Tis brave to wake, lethargic souls among, 
 To rise, surrounded by a sinking throng ? 
 
 and in all the pride of your self-complacent 
 superiority, have you not pitied from your 
 heart the slaves of sloth, who were too ab- 
 ject even to desire their emancipation from 
 its tyranny ? 
 
 There is certainly a very peculiar self- 
 ishness about some of our enjoyments, and
 
 EARLY RISING. 23 
 
 though many might distinguish them by a 
 more pleasing appellation, yet I cannot help 
 thinking that this is a just one. How often 
 have we heard the roaring of the wind as 
 we have sat securely sheltered from its 
 rage, and casting an eye of pleasure on the 
 comforts of our apartment, how often have 
 we drawn our chairs nearer to our fires, and 
 thinking on the unfortunate persons who 
 were exposed to all the fury of the boister- 
 ous ocean, hugged, as it were, our blessings 
 closer to our bosoms, and found them more 
 valuable than ever, because there were some 
 who did not possess them ? How often have 
 we rattled along in a snug post-chaise, whilst 
 the snow or rain was spending all its fury 
 on the poor pedestrian who was getting out 
 of the way of our vehicle, and, with a very 
 natural exclamation of " poor man," found 
 our situation the more enviable from the 
 comparison ; and soon exchanged our sym- 
 pathies for the object of our commisera- 
 tion, for more agreeable reflections on our 
 own superior shelter?* If you think these 
 
 , * This sentiment has been beautifully illustrated by 
 Lucretius in the following lines :
 
 24 LETTERS ON 
 
 feelings desirable, only rise earlier every 
 morning than those around you, and you 
 will experience them in their full effect; 
 but with this material difference, that whilst 
 those which are produced in the manner 
 first alluded to, are enhanced by the misfor- 
 tunes of those whose situations are placed 
 in contrast to our own, and consequently, 
 involve something really ungeneroas about 
 them; such as are occasioned by early 
 rising, are increased by a very justifiable 
 pity of the insensibility of those who have 
 them in their power, if they would but ex- 
 ert themselves a little to obtain them. 
 
 And what a complete contrast do such 
 feelings as these afford, to those which are 
 
 " Suave raari magno turbandbus aequora vends 
 terra magnum alterius spectare laborem ; 
 Non quia vexari queiuquam jucunda voluptas, 
 Sed quibus ipse raalis careas quia cernere suave est." 
 LUCEET. lib. 2. 
 
 Thus elegantly translated by Mr. Mason Good. 
 
 " How sweet to stand, when tempests tear the main, 
 On the firm cliff, and mark the seaman's toil : 
 Not that another's danger soothes the soul, 
 But from such toil, how sweet to feel secure."
 
 LAK1.V RISING. 25 
 
 experienced in rising from a bed of sloth 
 and laziness. You are very far from being 
 the only person, who, when I have alluded 
 to this subject, has acknowledged himself 
 fully alive to its importance, but confessed 
 that he needed some stronger excitement 
 than he had ever yet received to rouse him 
 from his lethargy. And what is the natu- 
 ral consequence of such a conviction of 
 the judgment, and such a failure in the 
 practice ? Each morning, instead of being 
 commenced with sentiments of gratitude 
 to that kind and paternal Being who has 
 added another day to his former mercies, 
 is accompanied with a bitter reflection on 
 his again becoming the slave of a habit 
 which he detests, but is unwilling to re- 
 linquish. A softness is thrown over the 
 disposition altogether inconsistent with the 
 courage and strength which the daily con- 
 cerns of business require. A dissatisfac- 
 tion with self is produced, which sours 
 the temper, and which is opposed to every 
 thing amiable and pleasing. Every object 
 that presents itself is veiled in a gloom 
 c
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 which invests it in a peculiar melancholy 
 hue, and deprives it of the power of 
 bestowing the pleasures that it may be 
 really calculated to afford. The mutual 
 endearments of the social circle are sus- 
 pended ; and very often the brows of the 
 more aged are knit into a frown at the 
 artless cheerfulness of the young, arising 
 from an envy of their happiness, a near 
 resemblance to which might have been 
 enjoyed by themselves. The day thus com- 
 menced cannot be expected to be spent 
 with satisfaction, or to be finished with 
 self-approbation . 
 
 Before I conclude, my dear G , 
 
 I would also remind you of another effect 
 which early rising produces. The day ap- 
 pears to have considerably advanced when 
 others are commencing it, and on looking 
 back, during its later hours, it seems to 
 have comprized a much longer space than 
 it really has done. The time that has been 
 gained in the morning deserves this appel- 
 lation. It has been snatched from sleep, 
 which did not really require it, but is so
 
 EARLY RISING. 27 
 
 covetous a creature that it will take all that 
 it can get. As you look back with self- 
 complacency to the morning hours, the 
 effect is something similar to that produced 
 by a vista. The objects at the further ex- 
 tremity appear to be at a much greater 
 distance than they actually are ; whilst the 
 mind on each retrospective view, derives a 
 new source of satisfaction from the delu- 
 sive idea of our having passed over more 
 ground, and advanced much farther than 
 we really have. If this description should 
 not now be very intelligible to you, I hope 
 an experimental acquaintance with the sen- 
 sations described, will in a few days render 
 its meaning perfectly clear. 
 
 Yours sincerely.
 
 LETTER IV 
 
 7o the same. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 IT has often been a source of 
 regret to you that the attention which your 
 mercantile pursuits required, and the large 
 proportion of your time which they occu- 
 pied, in a great measure precluded you 
 from the enjoyment of those literary plea- 
 sures which were so congenial to your 
 taste, and so natural a result of your excel- 
 lent education. Indeed, I have not unfre- 
 quently heard you express a wish, and that 
 with a degree of earnestness which seemed 
 very likely to end in a determination, to 
 give up your present lucrative connections, 
 and to devote the remainder of your life to 
 an uninterrupted participation in your fa- 
 vourite amusements. But however much 
 I may feel inclined to sympathize with you 
 in admiring the objects of your taste, and
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 however anxious I might be for you to 
 possess the power of indulging it to a 
 greater extent; yet I could never advise 
 my friend to suffer a propensity, however 
 innocent in itself, or intellectual in its na- 
 ture, to induce him to forget the duties 
 which he owes to a numerous family, and 
 to be regardless of the folly that would 
 mark his conduct, if he were to throw away 
 his present opportunities of usefulness, and 
 materially diminish an influence that has 
 hitherto been beneficially employed, merely 
 to enjoy the gratifications which the men- 
 tal powers might require. The ancient 
 writers have told us that " a man of bu- 
 siness may talk of philosophy, and a man 
 of leisure practise it." But I should be 
 very sorry indeed if its discussion were con- 
 fined to the former class, or its influence 
 exclusively felt by the latter. Since the 
 pristine curse has been extended from ge- 
 neration to generation, and the food of man 
 has been obtained by the sweat of his 
 brow, daily labour has become the lot of a 
 large proportion of the human race; and
 
 30 LETTERS ON 
 
 the varied occupations of commercial or 
 professional engagements, only serve as a 
 milder infliction of the sentence. Nor can 
 I help reminding you of the incalculable 
 proportion of happiness which would be 
 lost, if diligent application and industrious 
 assiduity did not occupy a very consider- 
 able space in the life of man. But if these 
 employments tended to check those mental 
 energies, and to annihilate that exercise of 
 the reasoning faculties which distinguish 
 us from the brutes ; if they limited that en- 
 largement of comprehension, that extent of 
 view, that improvement of the judgment, 
 and that refinement of the taste, which phi- 
 losophy, when properly understood, is cal- 
 culated to produce ; we should very soon 
 leave that high station in the order of cre- 
 ated beings which we at present maintain, 
 and sink below the level of the subjects of 
 mere instinct the slaves of our passions, 
 and the victims of our lusts. 
 
 That there is, in fact, nothing inconsis- 
 tent between the cultivation of mind, and the 
 details of business, is very capable of proof.
 
 EARLY RISING. 31 
 
 And though we generally find that those 
 men who have devoted their lives, and di- 
 rected their attention, to the study of that 
 which is necessary to qualify them to exer- 
 cise what is designated by the name of a 
 profession, have been most distinguished for 
 their literary attainments, (the natural result 
 of their being more conversant with books,) 
 yet the minuter parts of their employments 
 are very similar in their mere mechanical 
 properties to the occupations of men of 
 business, and require the assistance of as 
 little of the intellectual energies as the ordi- 
 nary avocations of the tradesman. Indeed, 
 there is a certain something about these oc- 
 cupations every way favourable for eliciting 
 mental activity. The collision of opposite 
 sentiments, the employments of each return- 
 ing day, the mental as well as corporeal 
 exercise that is required, and the incitements 
 to perseverance which are offered, stimulate 
 the reasoning faculties, and, like the mus- 
 cular exertions of the wrestler, strengthen 
 each nerve by its successive employment. 
 I need not take up much of your time
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 to convince you of the truth of this ; indeed 
 you have the advantage of me here, for you 
 have long found by experience the correct- 
 ness of what I am endeavouring theoreti- 
 cally to prove. The engagements of a man 
 of business are those which he voluntarily 
 undertakes, in order to obtain some pro- 
 posed object. Either the inherent love of 
 employment, the claims of relative con- 
 nexions, or an ambitious desire of pre- 
 eminence, afford the first incitements to 
 exertion, and the constant inducements to 
 perseverance. Some end is steadily kept 
 in view, whilst the mind, eager to avail 
 itself of every thing that can serve as an 
 auxiliary to its accomplishment, is ever on 
 the alert for something to assist its plans. 
 If the object proposed be gained, another 
 instantly presents itself, and thus the first 
 motives still continue to operate, and keep 
 alive an emulative spirit. But it does not 
 follow that because a constant succession 
 of exertions is the direct road to the com- 
 pletion of his purposes, that the man of 
 business is never to pause, and to pluck a
 
 EARLY R IS TNG. 
 
 few of the flowers that tempt him in his 
 progress. The only evil which can attend 
 such an indulgence, is, when it interferes 
 with the time which should be devoted to 
 the calls of duty, and which is indispensably 
 necessary for the accomplishment of his 
 original purpose. 
 
 Now, to you, my dear friend, I know 
 that I shall be offering a valuable piece of 
 advice, and doing an essential service, by 
 impressing on your memory, that, circum- 
 stanced as you are at present, the only me- 
 thod by which you can indulge in your 
 favourite and laudable recreation, is by 
 withdrawing a portion of those hours which 
 are now devoted to some other purpose, 
 and reserving it for this. Your mercantile 
 engagements completely absorb every mi- 
 nute of the day, and the pleasures of the 
 family circle and social party generally 
 occupy the evening. Where then can you 
 look ? If I point you to a part of your life 
 which is spent in a manner that is useless 
 that is worse than useless is prejudicial to 
 your mind and destructive of your health, 
 c 3
 
 34 LJETTEKS ON 
 
 I shall not be asking too much of you, if I 
 only solicit you for one week, to try the 
 experiment which I would recommend. 
 Rise two hours earlier every morning. Cal- 
 culate this. It gives you fourteen hours in 
 a week an additional day and your most 
 sanguine wishes would be satisfied by one- 
 seventh of your time being devoted to lite- 
 rary pursuits. I only fear that you have 
 started at the thought of allowing them so 
 much ; if so, my dear friend, let me remind 
 you, that after having given you the time, I 
 accompany the present with no stipulations, 
 it is your own ; and you may use it as 
 you please. 
 
 But before I bid you once more fare- 
 wel, in order to remove every scruple from 
 your mind respecting the propriety of de- 
 voting so much time in the manner I have 
 mentioned, f must beg you to remember, 
 that no hesitation will ever be felt on ac- 
 count of its withdrawing your attention 
 from the concerns of business and the calls 
 of duty. It would be a portion of the day 
 hitherto altogether lost ; and you will never
 
 EARLY RISING. 35 
 
 have those scruples which you now proba- 
 bly sometimes feel, as to the propriety of 
 your being thus engaged. And should an- 
 other doubt ever arise, as to the compatibi- 
 lity of mental improvement and intellectual 
 pursuits with the details of business, I will 
 candidly acknowledge to you, that on a 
 comparison of myself as a man of leisnre, 
 with you as a man of business, I consider 
 the advantages to be on your side. With 
 those, whose attention to literature is purely 
 speculative, there is great danger of its ter- 
 minating in mere theory. You will not 
 mistake my meaning by supposing that 
 I now allude to the passing literature of the 
 present day. I refer to those philosophical 
 acquirements, and that species of know- 
 ledge, which are only to be obtained by 
 resorting to the best of writers and the wis- 
 est of men. The study of their works will 
 never intefere with your other engagements ; 
 but, on the contrary, will afford you an ac- 
 quaintance with general truths, which are 
 only of real service as they are ultimately 
 applicable to practical purposes. It will
 
 36 LBTTEB* OK 
 
 store your mind with that "knowledge" 
 which, when exercised in the concerns of 
 life, becomes indeed "power;" it will fur- 
 nish your memory with those immutable 
 principles that form the basis of all those 
 rules of conduct, the adherence to which 
 will induce a steadiness of mental resolve, 
 and a vigour of judgment, which unexpect- 
 ed occurrences, calculated to stagger the 
 weak and confound the wavering, will never 
 be able to disconcert. And let me remind 
 you, that you possess another great advan- 
 tage over the mere man of genius. You 
 will return to your literary pleasures with a 
 thirst for their enjoyment to which he is 
 often a stranger. You will feel nothing of 
 that " tedium vita" which so frequently 
 presses upon his spirits ; and in the alter- 
 nate vicissitude of mental speculation and 
 practical application, you will gain all the 
 knowledge that springs from the former, 
 and command all the advantages that result 
 
 from the latter. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 Yours very sincerely.
 
 EARLY*RISING. 37 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 To Mrs. G. 
 
 MY DEAR MADAM, 
 
 I SCAECELY need begin by assur- 
 ing you, that I feel no small degree of plea- 
 sure in adding the name of another lady to 
 the list of my epistolary correspondents, 
 and more particularly so, under such cir- 
 cumstances as have procured me the honor 
 of now addressing you. ft certainly was 
 with some considerable satisfaction that I 
 understood that my late letters to my friend 
 had not been confined to himself; and how- 
 ever scrupulous I might have been in some 
 cases about the perusal of such productions 
 being extended to those to whom they were 
 not originally addressed, yet on such a sub- 
 ject, every thing that could offer itself in 
 the shape of an objection would be at once 
 dismissed. Letters in general, when they 
 are really what they pretend to be, the ge-
 
 LETTERS OX 
 
 nuine expression of the sentiments of one 
 heart designed to win their way to another, 
 lose much of their interest when read by a 
 third person : and we have seen many in- 
 stances of the injudiciousness of those bio- 
 graphers, who have published much that had 
 better have remained concealed, through a 
 foolish expectation, that whatever proceeded 
 from the pen of their favourite must interest 
 the public. Indeed, in the present instance, 
 the attention which appears to have been 
 directed in your family to the subject of 
 early rising, at once induces me to hope, 
 that what 1 have already written has not 
 been ineffectual, and encourages me to 
 comply with your request, by communi- 
 cating to you my sentiments with regard to 
 its application to yourself in particular. 
 
 Several of the remarks which I have 
 already made, will apply to you as the mis- 
 tress of a family, as well as to my friend as 
 its head. But if I have considered it ne- 
 cessary to recommend the practice of early 
 rising to him, as a man of business, I feel 
 it to be a subject equally deserving your
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 consideration, as the mother of a family, to 
 whom it is indeed peculiarly important. If 
 the more public duties of life devolve on 
 man, there are private ones of no less weight 
 which are exclusively confined to woman ; 
 and whatever superiority may in general be 
 attached to the more obtrusive occupations 
 of our sex, perhaps the balance of comfort is 
 regulated by the less specious engagements 
 of yours. It is in vain that we devote our- 
 selves to the concerns of business, that we 
 are fortunate in our speculations and suc- 
 cessful in our exertions; in vain that we 
 toil from day to day to augment our wealth, 
 unles the pleasures which it can purchase, 
 and the advantages it can command, are 
 wisely regulated by you. Our labours in 
 the Exchange, or in the Mart, in the office, 
 the counting-house, or the shop, are stimu- 
 lated by the desire of gaining those comforts 
 which money can procure; but it is you who 
 must render them truly deserving of such 
 an appellation, by the wisdom that is dis- 
 played in the management of the domestic 
 economy, and the attention that is direct-
 
 ed to increase the endearments of home. 
 The duties which devolve upon us are in- 
 deed widely different, but they are suited to 
 the comparative strength or weakness of 
 each. Their diversity forms one of their 
 most pleasing features : and the very con- 
 trariety of their nature becomes a link of 
 connection between them. And if ever I 
 should be led to suffer pity for a person's 
 ignorance, to assume any of the character- 
 istics of contempt, it would be in that opi- 
 nion which I should form of the man, who, 
 proud of his own self-importance, and great 
 in his own estimation, affected to despise 
 what he gratuitously deemed the insignifi- 
 cant employments of woman, and by a con- 
 summation of meanness and cowardice, 
 upbraided her with moving in a more con- 
 tracted sphere than his own. If such be 
 his sentiments, he has yet to learn, that the 
 pleasure of society, and the harmony of do- 
 mestic life, are dependent upon that sex 
 whose smiles he can never deserve, and 
 whose frowns he pretends to disregard. 
 Though you might very properly charge
 
 EARLY RISING. 41 
 
 us with interfering unnecessarily with your 
 department of duty, if we were to presume 
 to scrutinize into the minutiae of those family 
 arrangements, the management of which is 
 properly confined to yourselves, yet we can- 
 not be insensible either to the advantageous 
 results which are produced by a well-con- 
 ducted system, or the inconveniences which 
 arise from an ill-organized plan of domestic 
 economy. Though we may not investigate 
 all the parts, and pry into all the movements 
 of the machine, we cannot be unconscious 
 of its operations ; and affecting as they do 
 our every-day comforts, we must be sensible 
 ether of their failure or success of accom- 
 plishing their designs. The secret cause 
 (if it be right to style it so when writing to 
 one to whom it has long been revealed, and 
 in a great measure acted upon) the secret 
 cause of all that disorder and confusion 
 which prevail in many families, is the want 
 of a systematic arrangement, which will 
 always correct and remove the evil. We 
 often see a vast deal of bustle, an unin- 
 terrupted succession of exertions, and a
 
 continued round of occupations, and yet 
 scarcely any thing appears to be effected : 
 or, if done, it is so ill timed and so out of 
 place, that one would almost wish it had 
 been left unattempted. It is the want of 
 method and the want of time that occasion 
 this. Plans are formed, but no thought is 
 previously bestowed upon them, because the 
 design is resolved upon when the execution 
 is needed. And even when there does ap- 
 pear something like wisdom in the inten- 
 tion, some unexpected occurrence inter- 
 venes, some hinderance is presented, which 
 disarranges every thing, and throws all into 
 confusion. Let me, my dear madam, en- 
 noble your truly honourable and useful daily 
 avocations, by comparing your family to a 
 little commonwealth, and place you at its 
 head; investing you with the combined 
 duties of legislative enactment and judicial 
 execution. Let me suppose all your anxie- 
 ties directed to the formation of wise laws 
 for its guidance, and all your faculties 
 engaged in devising suitable measures for 
 its government; and that your personal
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 influence was so necessary, and your con- 
 stant superintendance so important, that 
 they could not be dispensed with. Let me 
 imagine your active employments to be so 
 varied, that it required all the wisdom of 
 pre-conceived arrangement to guide, and all 
 the self-possession resulting from previous 
 deliberation to direct them. And what, I 
 would ask you, would be the course you 
 ought to adopt? Would it not be to obtain 
 these advantages, by appropriating the ear- 
 liest part of the day to consider of the 
 means best suited to the end to be obtained ? 
 But you are actually in the precise situation 
 which I have pictured to myself ; and only 
 let me put it to your better judgment, how 
 much would you gain if you were to devote 
 two or three hours of the morning, in pre- 
 paring for the active employments of the 
 day? 
 
 I may perhaps have allotted too large a 
 space of time for previous deliberation. 
 You may tell me, that it requires no such 
 forethought to manage the concerns of a 
 family ; and that I am recommending time
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 to be spent in inactivity, which might be 
 turned to much better advantage. You 
 are probably right. But you cannot refuse 
 to grant me, that the time which would be 
 thus gained would enable you to get through 
 the duties of the day, in a manner much 
 more consistent with the principles of good 
 order and proper arrangement. The ac- 
 tivity of mind and body that is felt in the 
 morning, would render your occupations 
 much less irksome than they must often 
 prove at a later period of the day. Those 
 employments which succeeded would be 
 conducted better, for however trifling some 
 of them may appear, if they are worth 
 doing at all, they are worth doing well. 
 You will have set an example to your ser- 
 vants and domestics, which will produce an 
 effect that entreaty or threats could never 
 have obtained. Surely no servant would 
 lie in bed when she knew that her mistress 
 was up and active. A principle of shame 
 would operate with all its force, and render 
 her incapable of self-indulgence, when she 
 would receive such a pointed practical re-
 
 EARLY RISING. 45 
 
 proof. You would provide for the casual- 
 ties of the day: unexpected hinderances 
 would not disarrange your plans : unlocked 
 for interruptions would still leave you much 
 time upon hand. And one great advantage 
 would be the result. The surplus hours, 
 (ah ! surplus hours ! ! my dear madam, for 
 I must believe that you have affixed a few 
 mental marks of exclamation after these 
 words,) would afford an opportunity for 
 intellectual improvement. Your favourite 
 authors would again be read. The pursuits 
 of your earlier days, before the cares of a 
 family and the anxieties of a mother were 
 known, would again be indulged in : and 
 thus would you render yourself even still 
 better qualified than at present for your 
 favourite employment, the instruction of 
 your children. 
 
 With every sentiment of respect, 
 I am, madam, 
 
 Yours very sincerely.
 
 46 LETTERS ON 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 MY DEAR MADAM, 
 
 CERTAIN arguments which appear 
 to have very little that is personal in their 
 nature, or individual in their application, 
 may be urged with effect, when appealing 
 to the judgments of some persons, and en- 
 deavouring to interest their feelings. The 
 most forcible reasons which can be ad- 
 vanced in favour of a particular line of 
 conduct, are not such as are peculiarly cal- 
 culated to affect themselves, so much as 
 those which are connected with the happi- 
 ness of others, in whose welfare they are 
 greatly interested. This is perhaps more 
 observable with regard to parents than any 
 other description of characters, and is par- 
 ticularly the case with the mother of a 
 family. If you can but convince her that 
 the happiness of her children is affected by 
 what is recommended, although its adop-
 
 EARLY RISiNCI. 47 
 
 tion may require a considerable degree of 
 self-denial and personal inconvenience, yet 
 such a forcible motive operates so power- 
 fully upon her feelings that she cannot resist 
 its constraining influence. The fabulous 
 disinterestedness of the Pelican, which is 
 represented as feeding its young with the 
 blood which it has drawn from its own 
 breast, is more than realized in the mental 
 suffering which a fond parent often under- 
 goes, in order to promote the welfare of her 
 offspring ; and her constant solicitude and 
 anxiety on their account, form the most 
 pleasing answer to the scripture interro- 
 gation, " Can a mother forget her sucking 
 child, that she should not have compassion 
 on the son of her womb ?" 
 
 If the reasons adduced in my last Let- 
 ter should have failed to produce their 
 designed effect, I hope that those which 
 may be advanced in this will be more suc- 
 cessful. I feel that I am venturing upon 
 ground which seems to possess a certain 
 hallowed sanctity, and on which the foot 
 of a stranger may leave a sacrilegious im-
 
 48 LETTERS ON 
 
 pression. An interference with the edu- 
 cation of the younger branches of a family, 
 is often looked upon as conveying a tacit 
 rebuke and a disguised censure. But I 
 will not act in so covert a manner ; I will 
 boldly confess to you that I mean to convey 
 an open rebuke and an undisguised censure. 
 And I do think, my dear Madam, that 
 you will fail in a very essential part of your 
 duty as a parent, if you neglect to invite 
 your children, by the influence of your ex- 
 ample, or to urge them by the authority of 
 your commands, to appreciate the value of 
 the habit of early rising. 
 
 Much of your attention has been fre- 
 quently directed to the best method of im- 
 pressing upon the minds of your youthful 
 charge the value of time. You have en- 
 deavoured to enforce upon them a sense of 
 its shortness, and of the necessity of im- 
 proving each moment ere it be fled, and 
 numbered " with the years beyond the 
 flood."* You have accompanied your ex- 
 hortations with all the earnestness which a 
 
 Young.
 
 EARLY RISING. 49 
 
 consciousness of the importance of the 
 subject could create, and with all the ten- 
 derness which an anxious parent could be 
 expected to feel. And you have often con- 
 sidered your own time profitably employed, 
 when searching for the most effectual argu- 
 ments and the most successful persuasions, 
 to convince others of what experience had 
 taught yourself. But let me remind you, 
 my dear madam, that you have neglected 
 one of the most powerful and convincing 
 means of producing the wished-for result 
 that lies within your reach. If they who 
 are influenced by your example, and willing 
 to obey your injunctions ; who are narrowly 
 watching all the minutiae of your conduct, 
 and comparing the probable excellence of 
 your theory with the certain facts of your 
 practice, with an acuteness of observation 
 that you sometimes little suspect ; if they 
 were to see by your daily habits how much 
 you felt the indispensible necessity of that 
 improvement of time which you had in- 
 forced upon them ; that you denied yourself 
 what they had been accustomed to regard 
 D
 
 50 LE1VERSON 
 
 as an allowable gratification; and if they 
 were to experience, by an obedience to your 
 commands, that they were every morning 
 gaining a few of those hours which you had 
 taught them to look upon as so precious, 
 they would have the value of time brought 
 home to them in a manner that no represen- 
 tations, however just, could so eloquently 
 convey; and no arguments, however irre- 
 sistible, could so convincingly prove. 
 
 There is an error which young persons 
 are very apt to fall into, (and indeed it is 
 very far from being confined to them,) 
 which it should be a great object with a 
 parent to correct. They look upon the 
 larger portions of time as being of con- 
 siderable importance, and attach to the 
 names by which they are distinguished, ideas 
 of a comparatively commensurate value. If 
 you were to talk to them of shortening their 
 existence, by blotting out a certain number 
 of years, or even of months, they would shud- 
 der at the thought, and be alarmed at the 
 suggestion. But if you were to propose 
 that a definite number of moments, or mi-
 
 EARLY RISING. 51 
 
 liutcs, or perhaps of hours, should be taken 
 away, though they might hesitate at the 
 novelty of the surrender, yet they would 
 soon console themselves by thinking on the 
 insignificance of each individual particle, 
 and would yield to the deprivation with but 
 little reluctance. But the man whose ca- 
 pacious mind embraces all the component 
 parts of any given* subject, and who mi- 
 nutely examines the details of atoms with 
 the same facility as he includes in one com- 
 prehensive grasp the extended mass which 
 they form, would reject such a proposal as 
 being equally inconsistent with reason, as 
 that which appeared so to the meaner ca- 
 pacity of the child. And if you would 
 produce the same convictions, you must 
 infuse the same principles which lead to 
 them. Tell your youthful charge that the 
 shore which surrounds their native land, 
 and which has resisted for ages the rude 
 attacks of the boisterous ocean, is com- 
 posed of grains of sand; that the cable 
 which prevents the floating bulwarks of 
 their country from dashing against the rocks
 
 52 LE'lTERS ON 
 
 that threaten them, consists of single fibres 
 of flax ; that the lucid path which cir- 
 cumscribes the heavens, is produced by an 
 assemblage of countless stars ; that the 
 largest numbers are formed of units; and 
 that the lengthened space of succeeding 
 ages which extends from the morning of 
 creation to the present honr, is made up of 
 single moments ; you will thus make them 
 real economists of their time; you will 
 render them avaricious, where avarice is no 
 sin ; you will make them parsimonious, 
 where parsimony is a virtue. Teach them 
 to calculate for themselves. Let them find 
 the sum in hours, to which a minute daily 
 gained will amount. Let their computa- 
 tions prove to them, " that the difference 
 between rising between five and seven 
 o'clock in the morning for the space of forty 
 years, supposing a person to go to bed at 
 the same hour at night, is nearly equivalent 
 to the addition of ten years to his life:"* 
 and then reverse the question. Propose 
 
 * Vide Doddridge's Family Expositor.
 
 EARLY RISING. 53 
 
 to them, that instead of gaining ten years, 
 the same period be expunged; that it be 
 given up to sleep and inaction : and you 
 will convince them by the simplest rules of 
 arithmetic, what a treasure may be acquired, 
 and what a loss may be sustained. 
 
 You are well aware of the great impor- 
 tance which is to be attached to the early 
 formation of useful habits, and how ma- 
 terially the comfort of the subsequent part 
 of our lives depends upon such having be- 
 come familiar to us, as promote our moral 
 and intellectual improvement. Man has 
 been called " a bundle of habits ;" and that 
 parent will act the most wisely, who takes 
 care, that so far as she can assist in the for- 
 mation of this bundle, it shall be composed 
 of such habits only as her experience has 
 taught her to approve, and her judgment to 
 allow. And you as a mother have a very 
 considerable influence in this respect. The 
 maxim of Solomon, " Train up a child in 
 the way he should go, and when he is old 
 he will not depart from it," was not one of 
 temporary application, but still retains all
 
 54 LETTERS ON 
 
 its original force and truth. If it be in 
 your power to regulate, in any degree, those 
 principles of action which operate on the 
 minds of your children, and which, after 
 the repetition of their influence, assume the 
 force of custom, affording not only a mere 
 facility, but also an inclination and an im- 
 pulse to perform ; it is of the highest im- 
 portance that you should see them rightly 
 and judiciously directed. If you are con- 
 vinced of the duty and advantages of the 
 practice of early rising which I have been 
 recommending, and if you are willing to 
 allow that its neglect is not simply an ab- 
 sence of positive satisfaction, but even a 
 commission of actual sin, you cannot hesi- 
 tate for one moment about the propriety of 
 addicting your offspring at an early age to 
 this beneficial and salutary habit. And its 
 being thus encouraged in childhood has a 
 peculiar advantage connected with it, inde- 
 pendent of the extent of time which would 
 be gained, and which I have already no- 
 ticed. If the sensual indulgence (for I 
 cannot distinguish it by a milder term) of
 
 EARLY RISING. 55 
 
 lying longer in bed than the necessities of 
 nature require, becomes difficult to conquer 
 in proportion to the time it has been che- 
 rished, the most easy and effectual method 
 of subduing it, is to check it before it has 
 assumed so formidable a character as to 
 need the exercise of any considerable de- 
 gree of self-denial to overcome it. If you 
 accustom your children to rise early, the 
 practice will soon resemble instinct more 
 than habit ; and appear to possess the na- 
 tural properties of the one, rather than the 
 acquired qualities of the other. There will 
 be no necessity for the operation of the 
 will ; intention will hardly be required ; 
 thought will not be needed ; and the mov- 
 ing principle will become mechanical rather 
 than rational. They will rise when they 
 wake with the same readiness as they retired 
 to rest when weary : and as I have some- 
 times observed, that the threat of send- 
 ing them to bed before their accustomed 
 time has instantly inforced obedience, and 
 when insufficient, that the execution of it 
 lias appeared a grievous punishment ; if
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 you wish at any future period to correct 
 them, perhaps an equally effectual mode 
 would be, to deny them the gratification of 
 rising at their usual hour. 
 
 I am, &c.
 
 SARLY RISING. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 MY DEAR MADAM, 
 
 IN my last letter I confined my 
 observations on the pernicious habit of long 
 indulgence in bed, to its effects upon the 
 mind rather than the body, though its con- 
 sequences are very prejudicial to both ; 
 and on a recollection of the close connec- 
 tion and intimate sympathy which exist be- 
 tween them, you will be inclined to regard 
 any diminution of bodily strength as affect- 
 ing, to a greater or less degree, the energy 
 of the mental powers. Nor can I help 
 referring the long train of maladies with 
 which so many are at present afflicted, and 
 which, in the absence of a more distinguish- 
 ing and specific term, are all ranked under 
 the general title of nervous, to the immode- 
 rate portion of time that is spent in bed. 
 It may be a very difficult task to trace these 
 D 5
 
 68 LETTERS ON 
 
 disorders to their source, and hence so few 
 of them are effectually removed by the use 
 of medicine; yet they all evidently originate 
 in a state of corporeal debility, which occa- 
 sions a mental relaxation, and this twofold 
 weakness produces those painful and dis- 
 tressing sensations, which render their un- 
 happy victims the object of pity and com- 
 miseration. And if any remedy can be 
 found to re-establish, however gradually, 
 the enfeebled powers of the body, the dis- 
 ordered faculties of the mind will, at the 
 same time, be invigorated and restored : 
 and it is certainly of very great importance, 
 that those habits should be formed in chil- 
 dren, which are calculated to prevent their 
 becoming the subjects of these very gene- 
 rally prevalent, and apparently increasing 
 complaints. It is true, that scarcely any 
 are willing to allow that the cause I have 
 alluded to is instrumental in producing such 
 an effect; but this is very far from proving 
 that I am wrong. The evil has crept upon 
 them so slowly, the malady has become 
 formidable by such imperceptible advances,
 
 EARLY RISING. 59 
 
 that they have not been aware of its ap- 
 proach, nor can they now discover how it 
 was introduced, though too well assured of 
 its alarming progress. 
 
 Do we find that our hardy ancestors 
 ever complained of such disorders as we 
 now lament ? Do we read of nervous affec- 
 tions a few centuries ago ? Or, if you sus- 
 pect whether the same disease may not 
 have been distinguished by another appel- 
 lation, do we find any thing at all symptoma- 
 tic of the complaint ? Modern luxury may 
 have concurred with some other circumstan- 
 ces in producing this, but I believe that the 
 pernicious habit of continuing an unneces- 
 sary length of time in bed, has been one of 
 the principal causes. Our forefathers rose 
 at four, but many of their degenerated pro- 
 geny lie till eight. The consequence of 
 this, is a general relaxation of the nervous 
 system, the muscles becoming unstrung, 
 the spirits depressed, the mental faculties 
 weakened, attended by all the melancholy 
 accompaniments of hypocondriac affec- 
 tions. "This tyrannical habit," says a
 
 forcible modern writer,* " attacks life in its 
 essential powers ; it makes the blood forget 
 its way, and creep lazily along the veins ; it 
 relaxes the fibres, unstrings the nerves, eva- 
 porates the animal spirits, saddens the soul, 
 dulls the fancy, subdues and stupifies man 
 to sucli a degree that he, the lord of the 
 creation, huih no appetite for any thing in 
 it, loathes labour, yawns for want of thought, 
 trembles at the sight of a spider, and in the 
 absence of that, at the creatures of his own 
 gloomy imagination." 
 
 I am not speaking speculatively here. 
 .1 might be considered to be going out of 
 my proper sphere, if I were to attempt to 
 prove the truth of my assertions, either by 
 shewing that such a result must, from our 
 physical organization, necessarily follow, 
 or by entering into a particular detail of the 
 manner in which it operates upon the body ; 
 though I might give you quotations from 
 
 * Robinson's Morning Exercises. No. 1, Industry. 
 The author would take the liberty of recommending this 
 " Morning Exercise" to his readers, to which he was in- 
 debted for many valuable hints in the composition of these 
 Letters.
 
 EARLY RISING. 61 
 
 most of our great medical writers, which 
 would serve to corroborate my opinions, 
 and establish the correctness of my senti- 
 ments.* But I can appeal to facts, which 
 are not only worth recording, but also worth 
 remembering. It has been remarked by one 
 
 * " Nothing," says Dr. Cheyne, " can be more preju- 
 dicial to tender constitutions, studious and contemplative 
 persons, than lying long in bed, lolling and soaking in sheets 
 after any one is distinctly awake, or has slept a due and 
 reasonable time. It necessarily thickens the juices, ener- 
 vates the solids, and weakens the constitution. A free 
 open air is a kind of cold bath, especially after rising out 
 of a warm bed, and consequently makes the circulation 
 brisker and more complete, and braces up the solids, when 
 lying in bed dissolves and soaks them in moisture. This is 
 evident from the appetite and hunger those that rise early 
 feel, beyond that which they get by lying long in bed." 
 Essay on Health and Long Life, b. iii. s. 6. 
 
 Mr. Wesley, in his celebrated sermon " on the Duty 
 and Advantage of Early Rising, 1 ' observes, that "one 
 common effect of either sleeping too long, or lying too long 
 in bed, is weakness of sight, particularly that weakness 
 which is of the nervous kind. When I was young my 
 sight was remarkably weak. Why is it stronger now than 
 it was forty years ago ? I impute <his principally to the 
 blessing of God, who fits us for whatever he calls us to ; 
 bnt undoubtedly, the outward mean which he has been 
 pleased to bless, was the rising early every morning."
 
 LETTERS OS 
 
 of our judges* who availed himself of the 
 opportunities which a long course of practice 
 at the bar and experience on the bench af- 
 forded,that whenever he inquired into the ha- 
 bits of life of any witnesses who had attained 
 a considerable age, he invariably found that 
 they had long been, and still were, early 
 risers, though in many other respects their 
 practices differed, and were sometimes 
 directly contrary. This is a fact worth 
 more than a thousand speculative argu- 
 ments ; it carries with it a conviction that 
 renders further proof or further comment 
 unnecessary. You may probably recollect 
 the concise and excellent rules which the 
 celebrated old Parr laid down for the pre- 
 servation of health : and when I remind you 
 that he attained the astonishing age of one 
 hundred and fifty-two years, his advice upon 
 the subject will possess a peculiar value. 
 " Keep your head cool by temperance, 
 your feet warm by exercise. Rise early, and 
 go to bed soon. Never eat till you are hun- 
 gry, nor drink but when nature requires it." 
 
 Lord Mansfield.
 
 EARLY RISING. 6S 
 
 As an instance, however, of the good 
 effects of the habit of early rising, even 
 upon persons afflicted with the maladies 
 which I have supposed the neglect of 
 it to produce, I will relate to you the case 
 of a young lady who had deeply felt their 
 baneful influence. She was reduced to 
 such extreme weakness, as to require as- 
 sistance in walking across the room ; and 
 imagining so enfeebled a state required a 
 larger portion of sleep, she generally lay 
 eight or nine hours, but in the morning 
 found herself as relaxed and fatigued as at 
 night, and unable to dress without the relief 
 of resting two or three times. On reading 
 Wesley's sermon on early rising, she was 
 so perfectly convinced of the propriety of 
 the reasoning, that by rising gradually earlier 
 every morning she soon lessened the time 
 of sleep to six hours ; her strength daily 
 increased, and by persevering in this 
 practice, together with cold bathing and 
 moderate exercise, the disorders which had 
 so long afflicted her were removed ; and 
 deeply sensible of the great mental and
 
 64 LETTERS ON 
 
 bodily advantage of early rising, only re- 
 grets that the habit had not been formed at 
 a much earlier period of her life.* 
 
 1 cannot conclude these observations 
 without transcribing a very interesting little 
 poem, written by the ingenious and learned 
 Beloe. It will amuse you more than 
 any lengthened quotations from medical 
 writers, and your children may sooner com- 
 mit it to memory, and will perhaps retain 
 it longer, than any arguments, however 
 weighty or just they might be. 
 
 THE PURSUIT OF HEALTH. 
 
 One April morn reclin'd in bed, 
 
 Just at the hour when dreams are true, 
 
 A Fairy form approach'd ray head, 
 Smiling beneath her mantle blue ; 
 
 " Fie, fie," she cried, " why sleep so long, 
 When she, the Nymph you dearly love, 
 
 Now roves the vernal flowers among, 
 And waits for you in yonder grove ? 
 
 This account has appeared in some of the last editions 
 f Wesley's Sermon.
 
 EARLY RISING. 65 
 
 " Hark ! you may hear her cberub voice, 
 The voice of Health is sweet and clear, 
 
 Yes you may hear the birds rejoice 
 In symphony her arbour near! " 
 
 I rose and liasten'd to the grove, 
 With eager steps and anxious mind j 
 
 1 rose the Elfin's truth to prove, 
 And hop'd the promis'd Nymph to find ; 
 
 My fairy took me by the hand, 
 And cheerfully we stepp'd along, 
 
 She stopp'd but on the new-plough'd land, 
 To hear the russet woodlark's song; 
 
 We reach'd the grove I look'd around, 
 
 My fairy was no longer near ; 
 But of her voice I knew the sound, 
 
 As thus she whisper' d in my ear 
 
 " The Nymph, fair Health, you came to find 
 Within those precincts loves to dwell; 
 
 Her breath now fills the balmy wind, 
 This path will lead you to her cell.' 
 
 I bended to the primrose low, 
 
 And ask'd if Health might there reside; 
 " She left me," said the flower, " but now 
 
 For yonder violet's purple pride."
 
 '6 
 
 I question'd next the Yiolef queen, 
 Where buxom Health was to be found : 
 
 She told me that she late was seen 
 With cowslips toying on the ground. 
 
 Then thrice I kiss'd the cowslips pale 
 And in their dew-drops bath'd my face, 
 
 J told them all my tender tale, 
 And begg'd their aid coy Health to trace. 
 
 " From us," exclaim'd a lowly flower, 
 " The Nymph has many a day been gone, 
 
 But now she rests within yon bower 
 Where yonder hawthorn blooms alone." 
 
 Quick to that bower I ran, I flew, 
 And yet no Nymph I there could find, 
 
 But fresh the breeze of Morning blew, 
 And Spring was gay and Flora kind : 
 
 If 1 retum'd sedate and slow, 
 
 What if the Nymph I could not sec? 
 
 The blush that pass'd along my brow 
 Was proof of her divinity! 
 
 And still her votary to prore, 
 And still her dulcet smiles to sharr, 
 
 111 tread the fields I'll haunt the grove, 
 With untir'd steps and fondest care.
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 O Sprite belov'd ! vouchsafe to give 
 
 A boon, a precious boon, to me j 
 Within thy influence let me live, 
 
 And sometimes too thy beauty see 
 
 So shall the Muse in nobler verse 
 And strength renew'd exulting sing, 
 
 Thy praise thy charms thy power rehearse, 
 And sweep with bolder hand the string ! 
 
 To you, my dear Madam, who feel so 
 much of the tenderness of a mother ; who 
 are so susceptible of her anxieties, and so 
 elated with her pleasures ; who do not dis- 
 play your affection by shedding a thousand 
 tears over the childish sorrows of your off- 
 spring, without a single effort to promote 
 their comfort, nor waste that time in fruit- 
 less forebodings of probable calamities, 
 which might be much better occupied in 
 such prudent exertions as would prevent 
 their occurrence; to you these remarks 
 will not be unavailing, offered as they are 
 with all the candour which friendship could 
 prompt, and with all the sincerity which a 
 participation to a certain degree, in your
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 own affection for your children, could dic- 
 tate. What will be my satisfaction, if the 
 next time I visit your hospitable mansion, 
 when, perhaps, the artless freedom of my 
 little favourites is exchanged for the modest 
 blush which the consciousness of riper 
 age may produce ; when the unsuspecting 
 confidence of childhood has been suc- 
 ceeded by the retiring caution of maturer 
 years ; and when the first buddings of the 
 opening mind have expanded beneath the 
 rays of maternal love, and displayed the 
 characteristic tints and distinguishing co- 
 lours, which will be only deepened by the 
 succeeding seasons of advancing life : what 
 will be my satisfaction, if to all the other 
 sources of pleasure which I have found 
 under your roof, should be added that of 
 perceiving that my efforts to establish so 
 important, so valuable, so necessary a ha- 
 bit, have not been in vain. How shall 
 I be gratified, if, when I once more join 
 your domestic circle, instead of having the 
 opportunity afforded me, as before, of de- 
 voting my early hours exclusively to solitary
 
 EARLY RISING. 69 
 
 meditation, I should be permitted to see 
 the interesting group again assembled 
 around their mother, their countenances 
 glowing with all the animation which health 
 can bestow, and their minds prepared to 
 receive her instructions, by that peculiar 
 aptitude for thought, and liveliness and vi- 
 gour of intellect, which the exhilarating air 
 of morning produces. I have not yet for- 
 gotten, and with pleasure do I anticipate 
 the repetition of those hours, when I have 
 joined you in your delightful employment; 
 when I have seen the deep interest with 
 which you watched the countenances, and 
 the scrutiny with which you endeavoured 
 to read the hearts of your youthful charge ; 
 with what anxiety each movement of their 
 infant miiids was noticed ; how you listened 
 to the expression of their sentiments, which 
 served at once to mark the unfoldings of 
 their thoughts, and to reward your care ; 
 how desirous you were to check the first 
 symptoms of rising passion, and to repress 
 the first ebullition of each evil disposition ; 
 how every virtuous wish was fostered, every
 
 70 LETTERS ON 
 
 religious feeling strengthened ; how repeat- 
 edly the mind was led from the immediate 
 object of its contemplations, to consider- 
 ations of higher importance, and subjects 
 of everlasting moment; how often, by an 
 unexpected remark, some great and valu- 
 able truth was insinuated, finding its way 
 to the heart through those avenues which 
 unsuspecting confidence had laid open, and 
 impressed upon the memory by the earnest- 
 ness with which it was conveyed ; while 
 that affection which gratitude prompted 
 towards yourself, was diverted into a new 
 channel, and led to " the Giver of every 
 good and perfect gift;" while that deference 
 to your wisdom which your maturer ex- 
 perience invited, was directed towards Him 
 in whom are hid " all the treasures of wis- 
 dom and knowledge ;" while that sincerity 
 which elicited the ingenuous confessions 
 that opened to you the secrets of their 
 hearts, was made the instrument of excit- 
 ing a more unreserved reliance on Him 
 who "readeth, and searcheth the heart, 
 and trieth the reins of the children of
 
 EARLY RISING. 7* 
 
 men:" and while the anxious hope was 
 often felt, and the earnest wish was some- 
 times whispered, that ihe mother's watchful 
 eye might long be upon them, and her 
 sheltering protection be extended over 
 them, they were directed to one " whose 
 years fail not," " with whom there is no 
 variableness, neither shadow of turning," 
 and were induced to offer up the earnest 
 petition " our Father, wilt thou not from 
 this time be the guide of our youth f " 
 
 With the most earnest prayers that we 
 may all be the children of such a parent, 
 and under the direction of such a guide, 
 
 believe me, my dear Madam, 
 
 to be, yours very sincerely.
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 To Miss Charlotte G. 
 
 WY DEAR CHARLOTTE, 
 
 DID you think that my promise 
 was quite forgotten, or like many others 
 that have been made on similar occasions, 
 suffered to expire with the momentary im- 
 pulse that led to it ? If so, I have the plea- 
 sure of telling you that you were mistaken: 
 that I am too selfish a being to allow my- 
 self by breaking my own engagement, to be 
 deprived of the satisfaction which I shall 
 derive from your keeping yours. When you 
 asked as a favour, that our acquaintance 
 should not terminate with our personal in- 
 timacy, I felt a much greater inclination to 
 grant your request, than you could have 
 done to make it. And now that we can no 
 longer sit together, and read our favourite 
 authors, amuse ours elves with our darling 
 poets, or, rambling through your frequented
 
 EARLY RISING. ?5 
 
 walks, peruse the book of nature, and mark, 
 with equal admiration, some of its most 
 pleasing characters, I often think in my 
 solitary musings, of the converse which 
 used to cheat the distance of our strolls ; 
 and paint with vivid colours, though soften- 
 ed by a mellower tint, the lovely scenes 
 which surround your interesting dwelling. 
 
 You have sometimes asked me, when 
 an unexpected opening has afforded a com- 
 mand of distant landscape scenery, and ex- 
 torted from me a sudden expression of 
 agreeable surprize bordering upon rapture, 
 how such feelings were consistent with my 
 advancing years, and I think you added 
 with my sex ? You have told me you had 
 imagined that the beauties of nature had 
 but few charms for us; and however the 
 ardent feelings of youth might impel us to 
 admire them, you thought that the cares of 
 business and our necessary intercourse with 
 the world, extinguished those early sensi- 
 bilities, and led us to look back with con- 
 tempt on what we were now inclined to call
 
 LETTERS OX 
 
 the dreams of fancy. But I believe you were 
 partly convinced of your mistake, when I 
 reminded you of several of your favourite 
 authors, who retained, till the close of their 
 lives, the same attachment for the beauties 
 of nature as they had felt in their younger 
 years. I am sure we should both of us little 
 envy the man, who has never yet enjoyed 
 that pure satisfaction which arises from the 
 meditations of a leisure hour, spent amid 
 the tranquillity of rural scenery ; who has 
 never yet read the lesson which every open- 
 ing bud and leaf present, and felt the moral 
 in his heart; who has never gazed upon 
 the varied beauties which are displayed 
 around him, and feasting on the grandeur 
 of the scene till his senses asked no more, 
 ascended above these sublunary objects, 
 and cried, " my Father made them all ;" 
 who has never seen in the shades of the 
 landscape, or heard in the songs of the 
 grove, something more than a subject for 
 the painter's canvas or the poet's lyre ; who 
 has never discovered that from the stately- 
 oak which stretches across the glade, to the
 
 EARLY RISING. 75 
 
 minutest bud that is just bursting into being, 
 there is a wisdom of design, and an omnipo- 
 tence in execution, that mark the hand of 
 the Deity ; that every leaf is a candidate 
 for his wonder, and every fibre a subject 
 for his astonishment ; whose passions have 
 never subsided in the stillness of a summer's 
 eve, whose sterner thoughts have never been 
 relaxed by the softening influence of the 
 stealing twilight ; whose " strife of working 
 intellect," whose stir of " hopes ambitious," 
 and whose conflict of contending wishes, 
 have never yielded to the uninterrupted 
 silence which seemed to upbraid his folly, 
 and to endeavour to allay the tumult of his 
 breast ; who has never inhaled the balmy 
 breath of morning ; 
 
 But, I believe, I am going too far. I 
 fear I shall be venturing where you will not 
 join in the censure through fear of its re- 
 verting upon yourself. 1 have reminded 
 you of your inquiry with regard to our de- 
 ficiency, and your suspicion of our insensi- 
 bility even when placed amid some of the 
 most pleasing combinations of the beauties
 
 GUTTERS ON 
 
 of nature; and permit me to remind you 
 also, of the expressions of astonishment 
 which sometimes escaped my lips, when I 
 referred to your indifference to the loveliest 
 scenes, and the richest landscapes which 
 the country can afford. I need hardly tell 
 you, my dear Charlotte, that I allude to 
 those enchanting beauties which the morn- 
 ing presents. With all your enthusiasm for 
 the charms of nature, how can you suffer 
 yourself to lose the opportunity of enjoying 
 them in the greatest perfection? I can 
 hardly give you credit for your sincerity, 
 while you altogether neglect, or shew so 
 much inattention to what has so high a 
 claim upon your admiration. Do you 
 know what you lose, by spending those 
 hours in sleep which might be devoted to 
 the most pleasing and most substantial en- 
 joyment ? Only recollect the peculiar fas- 
 cinations of the morning. Think upon the 
 feelings which they are calculated to excite. 
 Picture to yourself (and if you imagine I 
 have painted in too glowing colours, rise to- 
 morrow and compare it with the reality, and
 
 EARLY RISING. 77 
 
 if there be one tint too vivid, one touch too 
 flattering, destroy the painting and forget 
 the artist,) picture to yourself a summer 
 morning. The sun rising in all his native 
 majesty, shedding his beams with a gentle 
 influence, which, whilst it predicts their in- 
 creasing power, teaches us to value their 
 present mildness. Every object as it catches 
 the first rays of " the powerful king of day," 
 appearing to smile at his approach. The 
 lengthened shadows that shoot across the 
 meadow, slowly diminishing as he advances. 
 The clouds that seemed to check his early 
 progress, gradually yielding to his growing 
 might, and " illumed with fluid gold," disap- 
 pearing amid " the kindling azure." The 
 glistening-dew drops, " stars of morning," 
 impearling every leaf. Vegetation clothed 
 in a richer verdure, and the variegated 
 flowers in livelier hues. The groves re- 
 sounding with the melody of the feathered 
 tribes, who appear susceptible of gratitude 
 for the return of the opening day. Whilst 
 every animal is in motion, and seems to feel
 
 78 LETTERS ON 
 
 a new satisfaction in the exercise of its ac- 
 tive powers and the revival of its capacities- 
 for enjoyment. 
 
 You are aware how much of the 
 pleasure or the pain that is experienced 
 on the consideration of particular objects, 
 depends upon the recollections with which 
 they are connected. Comparatively very 
 little inherent beauty can be found in any ; 
 and those which we have regarded at one 
 time as the fairest and most agreeable, we 
 may have looked upon at another with in- 
 difference, or even dislike. The seasons of 
 the year, and the time of the day, have often 
 considerable influence in producing this 
 contrariety of effect; and different minds 
 are variously affected by the same circum- 
 stances. One man regards the bursting 
 foliage of spring, and the universal verdure 
 which then surrounds him, as the finest 
 scenery which nature can afford ; whilst 
 another gazes with rapture on the mingled 
 tints of autumn, and the varied shades of 
 colour which then diversify the grove. One
 
 EARLY RISING. 79 
 
 delights to behold the rising sun throwing 
 his beams across the smiling landscape, 
 whilst another loves the parting ray that 
 bids it a temporary farewel. But whatever 
 may be the variety of taste, and without in- 
 truding upon you my own (perhaps anti- 
 quated) sentiments, I cannot but think that 
 the associations which are connected with 
 morning are much more exhilarating and 
 more beneficial, than the melancholy feel- 
 ings which the sombre shades of twilight 
 produce. It is in the power of a creative 
 fancy, to make the reflections which are 
 excited much more agreeable than the 
 images that lead to them. And it is in 
 the morning, when the spirits are elated, 
 and the disposition cheerful, that we sepa- 
 rate those circumstances, which when com- 
 bined with the objects that surround us 
 give them a deforming aspect, and unite in 
 the imagination what nature has kept dis- 
 tinct, adding to the intrinsic beauty of the 
 scenery the most interesting associations 
 and pleasing ideal connections.
 
 80 LETTERS ON 
 
 But in you, who are such an admirer of 
 poetry, and so many of whose mental as- 
 sociations are connected with the descrip- 
 tions contained in your favourite authors, 
 and whose solitary musings are so often 
 enlivened by the recollection of them, the 
 indulgence in the pernicious habit of throw- 
 ing away so valuable a portion of the day 
 as the morning, carries with it an appear- 
 ance of the greatest inconsistency. There 
 are very few of our descriptive poets who 
 have not given us some of the most pleas- 
 ing proofs of the excellence of their 
 compositions, in their pictures of morn- 
 ing scenery : indeed this season possesses 
 something that is really and peculiarly poe- 
 tical. The beauties of the unfolding land- 
 scape, and the song of cheerfulness which 
 echoes through the woods, are themes 
 adapted for the exercise of the powers of 
 the finest genius, and produce, without any 
 effort of thought, a train of pleasing ideas, 
 harmonious in themselves, and easily in- 
 fused into the language which is necessary 
 to express them. The morning affords
 
 EARLY RISING. 81 
 
 subjects for contemplation also which are 
 exclusively her own. The rising sun is the 
 majestic herald who announces her ad- 
 vance, and the glittering dew-drops are 
 the gems which deck her vesture. The 
 " lyric lark" ascends to hymn her praise, 
 whilst a thousand warblers conspire to 
 swell the chorus of the anthem. The sons 
 of labour greet her approach with pleasure, 
 and the glow of health, which animates 
 their countenances, serves as her silent 
 panegyrist; whilst all that strength and 
 vigour of body can bestow, and cheerful- 
 ness of mind can impart, add their willing 
 tribute to her genial influence. 
 
 Before I conclude this letter I will 
 recal to your remembrance (as I do not 
 suppose that any of them are new to you) 
 some of our poets' descriptions of the 
 beauties of morning. The rising sun has 
 ever been a favourite theme with them, 
 and they have done ample justice to the 
 dignity and majesty of the object de- 
 scribed.
 
 82 LETTERS ON 
 
 But yonder comes the powerful king of day, 
 
 Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, 
 
 The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 
 
 Illum'd with fluid gold, his near approach 
 
 Betoken glad. Lo ; now, apparent all, 
 
 Aslant the dew-bright earth, and coloured air, 
 
 He looks in boundless majesty abroad, 
 
 And sheds the shining day, that burnish'd plays, 
 
 On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams. 
 
 High gleaming from afar. 
 
 THO.MSOX. 
 
 But see, the flush'd horizon flames intense 
 
 With vivid red, in rich profusion streamed 
 
 O'er heaven's pure arch. At once the clouds assume 
 
 Their gayest liveries ; these with silvery beams 
 
 Fringed lovely ; splendid those in liquid gold : 
 
 And speak their sov'reign's state. He comes, behold : 
 
 Fountain of light and colour, warmth and life ! 
 
 The king of glory ! round his head divine, 
 
 Diffusive showers of radiance circling flow, 
 
 As o'er the Indian wave uprising fair 
 
 He looks abroad on Nature, and invests, 
 
 Where'er his universal eye surveys, 
 
 Her ample bosom, earth, air, sea, and sky, 
 
 In one bright robe, with heavenly tinctures gay. 
 
 MALLET. 
 
 Dew is such a beautiful object, that 
 the poets have introduced it into some of 
 their most interesting descriptions of morn-
 
 EARLY RISING. 83 
 
 ing, with a very happy effect : and Job, in 
 his sublime description of the majesty of 
 the Creator, has referred to the peculiar 
 importance of this prolific source of fer- 
 tility, when he represents the Lord as an- 
 swering out of the whirlwind, and inquiring 
 " who hath begotten the drops of the 
 
 Milton has several striking allusions to 
 the dews. 
 
 Now morn her rosy steps in th' eastern clime 
 Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearL 
 
 An anonymous poet has alluded to them 
 with a peculiar felicity in the following 
 passage. 
 
 With starry splendour on the hawthorn bough, 
 And graceful wild-rose, shines the copious dew, 
 That precious lymph of nature, which dilates 
 The ruby lip of every infant bud, 
 And lavish on the level turf remains 
 In silver beauty. 
 
 Milton has introduced this into two 
 similes, equally apt, and equally pleasing. 
 
 * Job, xxxviii. 28.
 
 84 LETTERS ON 
 
 In describing the number of the host of 
 Satan: 
 
 An host, 
 
 Innumerable as the stars of night, 
 Or stars of morning, dew-drops, which the sun, 
 Impearls on every leaf and every flower. 
 
 The silence of Dalilah on visiting her 
 sightless husband, is thus expressed. 
 
 Yet on she moves, now stands, and eyes thee fixed, 
 About t' have spoke ; but now, with head declined, 
 Lake a fair flower surcharg'd with dew, she weeps, 
 And words address 'd seem into tears dissolved, 
 Wetting the borders of her silken veil. 
 
 Thomson's description of the gradual 
 advance of morning possesses all the cha- 
 racteristic beauties of that interesting poet. 
 
 And now observant of approaching day, 
 
 The meek-ey'd morn appears, mother of dews, 
 
 At first faint gleaming in the dappled east ; 
 
 Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow ; 
 
 And, from before the lustre of her face, 
 
 White break the clouds away. With quickened step, 
 
 Brown night retires : young day pours in apace, 
 
 And opens all the lawny prospect wide. 
 
 The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top 
 
 Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn.
 
 EARLY RISING. 8j 
 
 Blue, through the dusk, the smoaking currents shine ; 
 
 And from the bladed field the fearful hare 
 
 Limps, awkward j while along the forest-glade 
 
 The wild deer trip, and often turning gaze 
 
 At early passenger. Music awakes 
 
 The native voice of undissembled joy : 
 
 And thick around the woodland, hymns arise. 
 
 THOMSON. 
 
 I must not omit Beattie's " melodies of 
 morn ;" and though the third stanza is not 
 exactly in the situation in which the elegant 
 writer of the Minstrel has placed it, yet it 
 concludes with so powerful an appeal, and 
 unanswerable a question, that I do not 
 know a better place for it. 
 
 But who the melodies of morn can tell? 
 The wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; 
 The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell; 
 The pipe of early shepherd dim descried 
 In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide 
 The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; 
 The hollow murmur of the ocean -tide ; 
 The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love, 
 And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. 
 
 The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark ; 
 Crown'd with her pail the tripping milk-maid sings ; 
 The whistling ploughman stalks afield ; and hark ! 
 Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings j
 
 86 LETTERS ON 
 
 Through rustling corn the hare astonish'd springs; 
 Slow tolls the village clock the drowsy hour ; 
 The partridge bursts away on whirring wings; 
 Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower, 
 And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tour. 
 
 Ob ! how canst thou renounce the boundless store 
 Of charms which nature to her votary yields ? 
 The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, 
 The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; 
 All that the genial ray of morning gilds, 
 And all that echoes to the song of even, 
 All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, 
 And all the dread magnificence of heaven, 
 Oh ! how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ? 
 
 Nor have our poets confined their de- 
 scriptions to a mere relation of the beauties 
 of morning scenery ; they have endeavour- 
 ed to persuade their readers to experience 
 them, and have expostulated with them on 
 the criminal indulgence, which, from the 
 loss of real pleasure that it occasions, 
 might, perhaps, be more properly styled, 
 however paradoxical it may sound, criminal 
 self-denial. 
 
 Falsely luxurious, will not man awake ; 
 And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy
 
 EARLY RISING. 87 
 
 The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, 
 
 To meditation due, and sacred song ? 
 
 For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise ? 
 
 To lie in dead oblivion, losing half 
 
 The fleeting moments of too short a life ; 
 
 Total extinction of th' enlighten'd soul ! 
 
 Or else to feverish vanity alive, 
 
 Wildered, and tossing through distemper'd dreams. 
 
 Who would in such a gloomy state remain 
 
 Longer than nature craves; when every muse 
 
 And every blooming pleasure wait without, 
 
 To bless the wildly devious morning walk ? 
 
 THOMSON'S SUMMER. 
 
 Do you recollect these lines of Her- 
 rick's ? If some parts are rather homely, 
 you must attribute it to the debasing nature 
 of th,e conduct he is reprobating. 
 
 Get up : get up, for shame ! the blooming morn 
 Upon her wings presents the god unshorn ; 
 
 See how Aurora throws her fair 
 
 Fresh quilted colours through the air. 
 
 Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see 
 
 The dew-bespangling herb and tree, 
 Each flow'r has wept, and bow'd toward the east, 
 Above an hour since, and yet you are not drest, 
 
 Nay, not so much as out of bed, 
 
 When all the birds have rnatius said 
 
 And sung their thankfnl hymns 'tis sin, 
 
 Nay, profanation to keep in !
 
 88 LETTERS ON 
 
 But I will conclude these quotations 
 with one piece of advice, and I can only 
 say do follow it. 
 
 " Rise before the sun, 
 Then make a breakfast of the morning dew, 
 Served up by nature on some grassy hill, 
 You'll find it nectar." 
 
 Yours, &c.
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 MY 1>EAR CHARLOTTE, 
 
 IN writing to you upon the beau- 
 ties of those scenes which the morning pre- 
 sents, and in endeavouring to render that 
 " sweet hour of prime " a part of the day 
 in which you shall feel the greatest interest, 
 and experience the highest satisfaction; it 
 serves as a great addition to the pleasure 
 which I should have otherwise felt, that I 
 am not obliged to stop at the point which 
 I have already reached, lest, if I went be- 
 yond it, you would no longer be able to 
 sympathize in my feelings, or be willing to 
 coincide with my sentiments. Nature at 
 all times affords a pleasing subject for de- 
 scription, and, connected with those delicate 
 susceptibilities of mind which it frequently 
 excites, it cannot fail to produce a very 
 peculiar interest in the man who is pos-
 
 90 LETTERS ON 
 
 sessed of a refined taste, and whose habits 
 have been favourable for literary acquire- 
 ments. But if we can go no further than 
 this, though we may arrogate to ourselves 
 the title of philosophers, we shall have 
 no claim to the nobler and more distin- 
 guished appellation of Christians. There 
 are very few who do not feel some peculiar 
 sensations of pleasure whilst contemplating 
 the beauties of nature in the morning. The 
 whole of its scenery is calculated to inspire 
 them, and the exhilarated state of the spirits, 
 and the liveliness both of the mental and 
 corporeal faculties, produce that self-com- 
 placency and internal satisfaction, which 
 would render inferior charms, and less 
 powerful attractions, capable of exciting 
 admiration and securing regard. The 
 dawning of day, and the gradual dissipa- 
 tion of the clouds; the rising of the sun, 
 and the reflection of his beams upon the 
 summits of the hills ; the spangled dew, 
 and the harmony of the feathered choir, 
 regale the senses, and invite the beholder 
 to join with all around him in hailing the
 
 EARLY RISING. 91 
 
 return of another day. But the Christian 
 finds in these objects a source of pleasure 
 and of joy, which a stranger to his feelings 
 cannot experience. He beholds the power 
 and the goodness of his " Father who is in 
 heaven," displayed in all his footsteps upon 
 the earth ; 
 
 He sees with other eyes than theirs : where they 
 
 Discern a sun, he spies a Deity ; 
 
 What makes another smile, makes him adore. 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 It is not till we have discovered the mu- 
 nificence and the greatness of the Deity ex- 
 emplified in the noblest of all his works, the 
 work of redemption, and have been enabled 
 by faith in the Son of God to feel a personal 
 and individual interest in that wonderful 
 display of his compassion, that we can de- 
 rive from the less magnificent wonders of 
 creation the purest pleasures, and the high- 
 est gratifications which they are capable of 
 affording. The principle which converting 
 grace infuses into the mind, runs through 
 every thought, and gives a new current to 
 the feelings and the passions. The real
 
 9* 
 
 Christian, who is living up to the exalted 
 privileges which he is permitted to enjoy, 
 and leading a life of consistency with his 
 Master's will, tinds a fresh source of love, 
 and a new spring of gratitude in every thing 
 that surrounds him. Possessed of that spi- 
 rituality of mind which is " life and peace," 
 he no longer looks upon the extended pros- 
 pects which expand before him, and the 
 numerous minuter beauties which present 
 themselves on every side, with the eye of 
 curiosity, or mere sensitive pleasure ; he no 
 longer praises the landscape, while he for- 
 gets " its Author;" but he discerns the great 
 and eternal Maker of all worlds in every 
 object that claims and obtains his admira- 
 tion ; he sees 
 
 " The unambiguous footsteps of the god, 
 Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing, 
 And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds." 
 
 And remember, my dear Charlotte, that of 
 all the portions of the day, the morning is 
 the best adapted to excite those peculiar 
 feelings, and to call into exercise those
 
 EARLY RISING. 93 
 
 emotions, which characterize the Christian'* 
 contemplation of the beauties of nature. 
 Permit me to remind you of the train of 
 ideas to which it may lead, and a few of 
 the peculiar reflections which it is calcu- 
 lated to suggest. 
 
 View the sun, the glorious orb of day, 
 rising in all his splendour, and rejoicing like 
 " the strong man" " to run" his daily and 
 appointed " race." See how the shades 
 of midnight have fled at his approach, 
 and the clouds that hovered over the 
 eastern horizon have vanished before his 
 power. And will not this noblest object 
 of the visible creation remind you of " the 
 Chief among ten thousand, the altogether 
 lovely ? " Of the Sun of Righteousness," 
 who, to them who " fear the name" of 
 the Lord, shall u arise with healing on 
 his wings?"* What a beautiful and pe- 
 culiarly applicable emblem of the Saviour 
 does the sun afford. His gracious influ- 
 ences, shed upon the mind, have scattered 
 the mists of ignorance which so long had 
 veiled it ; have exhibited the native defor- 
 .Mai. iv. 5.
 
 9i LETTERS ON 
 
 mity of sin, and the beauty of holiness ; 
 have unfolded the perfections of Deity, and 
 illumined the road that leads to their en- 
 joyment ; have dispersed the clouds that 
 seemetl to invest a just and righteous God 
 with frowns, and array him with all the awe 
 of inaccessible majesty and inflexible jus- 
 tice, and have declared " that he is love." 
 His revelation, whereby " through the ten- 
 der mercy of our God, the day-spring from 
 on high hath visited us; to give light to 
 them that sit in darkness, and in the shadow 
 of death : to guide our feet into the way of 
 peace "* his revelation permits us to 
 contemplate, with the eye of faith, the 
 noon-day " brightness of the Father's glory, 
 and the express image of his person" f 
 " in the face of his anointed ;" it points out 
 to us the path that leads to happiness and 
 heaven : which, whilst it shews the world 
 to be a \vildtrness, and its promised plea- 
 sures thorns, guides and directs the wearied 
 traveller to his home ; and as the light of 
 the reconciled countenance of their God is 
 lifted upon his people, it dispels their 
 Luke, i. 78, 79. t Heb. i. 3.
 
 EARLY RISING. 95 
 
 doubts, and animates their hopes; bright- 
 ens their prospects, and invigorates their 
 strength ; cheers their hearts, and consoles 
 their minds; reveals the riches of his ful- 
 ness, and the bounties of his grace; the 
 faithfulness of his promises, and the im- 
 mutability of his word ; the strength of his 
 arm, and his willingness to exert it; the 
 exhaustless treasures of his wisdom, and the 
 boundless extent of his love. 
 
 But the beauty of morning is very much 
 increased by the drops of dew which are 
 hanging from every blade of grass, and are 
 reflecting the rays of the sun in a thousand 
 different directions. Not a sound has been 
 heard nor a leaf been moved, whilst the 
 secret operation has been advancing : and 
 what a pleasing emblem does this afford of 
 the influences of the Holy Spirit. How 
 mild, how gentle, how imperceptible have 
 its effusions often been upon our minds ! 
 What a train of heavenly thoughts has it 
 inspired, whilst we have scarcely known 
 how to account for their existence: what 
 an unruffled calm has it produced, and how 
 has it spoken peace to the troubled con-
 
 96 LETTERS ON 
 
 science, when a thousand worldly cares 
 and anxieties were raising a tumult in our 
 breasts But these gems which thus adorn 
 the smiling landscape, are not merely de- 
 signed to add to the transient loveliness 
 of the scene; they tend to perpetuate its 
 beauty by deepening the verdure of the 
 fields, and heightening the blooming tints, 
 and increasing the fragrant odours of the 
 flowers on which they hang. And may \ve 
 not trace a similarity between these effects, 
 and the sanctifying influences of the spirit 
 of truth ? Are they not instrumental in re- 
 freshing and invigorating all the graces of 
 the Christian character ? in maturing the 
 fruits of holiness ? Do they not so impress 
 upon our minds, and enforce upon our con- 
 sciences, the great and important truths of 
 the Bible, that they are made so intrin- 
 sically a part of our moral and intellectual 
 constitutions, as to prove by the effects 
 which they produce in our lives and con- 
 duct, that they are become essential and 
 vital principles ? Do they not prevent the 
 doctrines we have embraced, and the creed 
 we have professed, from losing their ef-
 
 EARLY RISING. 97 
 
 ficacy for want of a motive for action, or a 
 stimulus to exertion ? And amidst all the 
 different shades of character, and the diver- 
 sity of talent with which we are surrounded, 
 do they not influence each according to his 
 particular requirements, and whilst the 
 means are the same, produce effects equally 
 pleasing and beneficial by reason of their 
 variety ? 
 
 But will my dear Charlotte here suggest 
 the painful doubt which has so often dis- 
 turbed her peace ? Will she heave the dis- 
 trustful sigh, and tell me now, as she has 
 sometimes done before, that reflections such 
 as these may occupy the mind and animate 
 the hopes of the real disciple of the Son of 
 God ; but that she has no claim to this 
 high character, that she cannot feel this in- 
 dividual relationship, that she knows no- 
 thing of that filial appropriation which 
 exclaims in the " spirit of adoption," 
 Abba, Father?" Will she tell me that 
 she has never yet discovered the evidence 
 of her faith, has never yet been able to recur 
 to the time when the effectual operations 
 F
 
 98 LETTERS ON 
 
 of the Holy Spirit have descended upon her 
 soul, \vhilst " the dew of her birth" was> 
 " of the womb of the morning ?" Permit 
 me, my dear girl, in whose happiness I feel 
 no common interest, and for the increase of 
 whose peace of mind I would offer up my 
 unceasing prayers, permit me to make one 
 more allusion to the spiritual application of 
 the lovely scenery of morning. Darkness 
 has long maintained its empire, and thrown 
 a veil of obscurity over the undistinguish- 
 able beauties of creation, but day-break is 
 at hand. The grey and dusky tints which 
 mark the eastern boundary of vision, foretel 
 some important change; a lighter streak 
 succeeds, and the twilight advances, but 
 still the night appears unwilling to resign 
 her dominion. A blush of deeper hue has 
 suffused itself over the sky ; the clouds are 
 breaking rapidly away; and the western 
 hills are tipped with a lustre that proclaims 
 the approach of the great luminary of day. 
 His effects are visible before his glories are 
 revealed ; till at length he darts his beams 
 across the valley and the plain, and a thou-
 
 EARLY RISING. 99 
 
 sand voices welcome his appearance. The 
 admiring spectator, who had groped in the 
 obscurity, and shivered in the cold of night, 
 though he may not have been able to mark 
 the gradual steps by which light and warmth 
 have advanced, yet he can recur to his dis- 
 tress, and say it was night ; he can rejoice 
 in the change, and say it is day. And can- 
 not you, mydear Charlotte, recur to the hour 
 of nature's darkness ? Cannot you recollect 
 a time when you neither saw, nor wished 
 to see " the Sun of Righteousness ?" And 
 cannot you also remember when you longed 
 for the " day-spring from on high ?" when 
 you rejoiced in its cheering influence? 
 And do you not now desire the blessings 
 and the joys which light alone can afford ? 
 Though the morning may have been over- 
 cast with clouds, have you never seen the 
 source of your spiritual life breaking through 
 them with some cheering rays, which have 
 convinced you that " to them that believe 
 he is precious ?" Seek not, my dear girl, 
 either for your evidences or your happiness
 
 100 LETTERS ON 
 
 in past convictions. Does the man who 
 walks in the light of day, ever pause lest he 
 should have been mistaken, or ask if the 
 sun be really risen ? Does he seek for fur- 
 ther proof than the demonstrations around 
 him; the splendours that illumine, the heat 
 that warms, the influence that cheers ? Per- 
 haps he cannot fix his eye with the eagle's 
 gaze upon the glowing orb, but the weak- 
 ness of his vision does not shake the firm- 
 ness of his convictions. Ask yourself, my 
 dear girl, these questions. Do I now feel 
 myself lost, without a redeeming Saviour? 
 Am I convinced that the malady of sin is 
 incurable without a physician of value ? 
 Have I fled, and do I daily flee for refuge, 
 to lay hold on the hope which is set before 
 me in the Gospel f Is Christ all in all ? 
 Am I fixing my trust upon one who is 
 " mighty to save?" Press forward in the 
 divine life ; let every doubt add earnestness 
 to the prayer, " Lord, help my unbelief :" 
 run the race which is set before you in the 
 Gospel : and may your path, " the path ot"
 
 EARLY RISING. 101 
 
 the just," be like that of the sun, which not 
 only beautifies with his beams the hours of 
 morning, but " shines more and more unto 
 the perfect day." 
 
 Yours, with sincere affection.
 
 LETTERS OTf 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 To Mr. Charles G. 
 
 MY DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 THIS scrawl from one who sin- 
 cerely loves you, and feels a very lively 
 interest in your welfare, will, I suppose, 
 find you surrounded with your volumes of 
 legal lore ; the quaint but pithy Coke ; the 
 profound Lyttelton ; or the elegant Black- 
 stone : and though its perusal may a little 
 interrupt the train of thought which your 
 more important studies may have induced, 
 yet, if I am not very much mistaken in the 
 opinion 1 have formed of my young friend, 
 he will be willing to indulge in a few minutes 
 relaxation, and after the fatigues of an assi- 
 duous attention to his profession, cheerfully 
 refresh his mind with the communications 
 of his friend, and readily recline on the lan- 
 guage of affection as the pillow of his repose. 
 Though many circumstances have con- 
 spired to prevent my earlier assurance of 
 the continuance of my regard for you, and
 
 EARLY RISING. 103 
 
 have compelled me to postpone a compli- 
 ance with your request that I would occa- 
 sionally transmit to you such observations, 
 and give you such advice, as my more ad- 
 vanced years and greater experience ought 
 to afford me ; yet the delay in the fulfilment 
 of my promise is to be attributed to any 
 thing rather than to the want of a sufficient 
 interest, either in the employment itself, or 
 in the welfare of him for whose benefit it is 
 designed. If I ever feel a more than or- 
 dinary degree of pleasure in any occupation 
 that engages my attention, it is when I am 
 exerting myself for the advantage of the 
 young, the ardour of whose passions has 
 not yet been cooled, and the exercise of 
 whose reason has not yet been confirmed 
 by the experience of age. But to you, my 
 dear son, (for paternal solicitude may war- 
 rant the language of adoption, (I feel myself 
 united by a firmer tie, and more lasting 
 bond, than the mere interest which youth 
 can excite in the bosom of age. We are, 
 I trust, fellow sojourners 4n .the same wil- 
 derness, fellow travellers in the same hea- 
 venly road, fellow-seekers of the same home,
 
 10* LETTERS ON 
 
 citizens of one commonwealth, and members 
 of one household. The toils that we endure 
 are similar, the rest that we seek is the 
 same. And did I need an inducement to 
 stimulate me in an employment which is 
 always grateful, the apostolic injunction, 
 " to bear one another's burdens," would 
 convince me that it was my duty, where 
 my power would enable me, at least to 
 point out the way by which another's bur- 
 den could be removed, or the pressure of 
 its weight alleviated. 
 
 You have often expressed your regret 
 to me, that so large a portion of time in the 
 earlier period of your life, should have been 
 suffered to elapse, without applying your 
 mind, and directing your studies to those 
 subjects which would have tended to your 
 ultimate benefit. You have often recurred 
 to periods in your life, the recollection of 
 whose misiinprovement, has caused an ex- 
 pression of dissatisfaction ; and have mourn- 
 ed over the deficiency of your advancement, 
 which you have considered so little ade- 
 quate to the advantages you have enjoyed ; 
 and this feeling, operating upon your mind,
 
 EARLY RISING. 105 
 
 has not wasted itself in unavailing remorse, 
 serving only to cast a shade of melancholy 
 over every surrounding object, and to 
 invest with a dark and sombre hue every 
 occupation which might gradually have 
 removed its cause. But it has had a 
 much more salutary effect. You have 
 proved your repentance for the neglect of 
 past opportunities to be sincere, by em- 
 bracing the present with greater assiduity 
 and redoubled diligence. Indeed, my cau- 
 tions here must be directed against the op- 
 posite extreme. Arrived at an age when you 
 are peculiarly sensible of the value of know- 
 ledge ; when the discipline of the school or 
 the college no longer gives the appearance of 
 a laborious task, to what you now feel to be 
 an agreeable duty ; when the sterner charac- 
 teristics of manhood add a new impulse to 
 your energies, and render them more effectual 
 by making them more permanent ; when the 
 daily accession of information only serves 
 as a new stimulus to incite to further ac- 
 quisitions ; and when your future prospects 
 in life begin to expand before you, and lead 
 you to see the practical application and 
 F 5
 
 106 LETTERS ON 
 
 actual value of every new discovery that is 
 made, and of every page that is perused ; 
 under such circumstances, and influenced 
 by such principles as these, you need no 
 additional motives to animate your zeal, no 
 new excitements to increase your thirst for 
 knowledge. Indeed, I fear that those hours 
 which ought to have been devoted to sleep, 
 are often spent in the studious research 
 which might enrich your mind and reward 
 your toil if made by day, but which tends 
 to undermine both your corporeal and men- 
 tal powers, to debilitate both your intel- 
 lectual and bodily vigour, when pursued by 
 night. And I know that those hours which 
 ought not to have been devoted to sleep, 
 have been surrendered to it, to compensate 
 for the nocturnal inroads which your lucu- 
 brations had been making. 
 
 If there were any one piece of advice 
 which I would more frequently repeat than 
 another ; if there were any one caution 
 which I would endeavour to impress upon 
 you with all the earnestness that sincerity 
 of affection and personal experience could 
 dictate ; if there were any one warning
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 which I would accompany with more than 
 ordinary entreaty, and urge with more than 
 my accustomed seriousness, it would be 
 avoid night studies. It is to this, in a very 
 great measure, that we are to attribute that 
 long and lamentable train of maladies to 
 which the student is subject. A young 
 man who has received the advantages of a 
 liberal and classical education ; who is ar- 
 dent in the pursuit of knowledge ; who feels 
 some of his most pleasing mental associa- 
 tions to be connected with his literary em- 
 ployments ; whose vanity has been cherish- 
 ed by the seducing praises of injudicious 
 friends ; who is the subject of those peculiar 
 susceptibilities which accompany the first 
 developement of genius ; and whose intel- 
 lectual attainments have induced a degree of 
 conscious superiority, which nothing but 
 the humbling doctrines of Christianity can 
 subdue ; such a young man is, of all others, 
 the most sensible of those distressing emo- 
 tions which wounded pride occasions, and 
 is exposed to a thousand snares and temp- 
 tations which others escape. And nothing 
 tends to increase this mental irascibility,
 
 108 LETTERS ON 
 
 this nervous irritation, so much as an en- 
 feebled constitution. The connection be- 
 tween body and mind is so intimate, and 
 their sympathy so great, that many a re- 
 sponsive melancholy note thrills through 
 the latter, which was first struck upon some 
 disordered chord of the former. Whatever 
 you do, my dear Charles, trifle not with 
 your health, as you know not how it may 
 eventually affect your intellectual powers. 
 You may think the caution unnecessary, 
 but I could refer you to a period in my 
 own experience, I could describe to you a 
 state of mental agony, bordering on that 
 awful condition, 
 
 " Which, of all maladies that men infest, 
 Claims most compassion, and obtains the least ;" 
 
 and I do not hesitate to attribute it, very 
 considerably, if not principally, to a state of 
 physical derangement proceeding from too 
 severe an application to books, and still 
 more immediately resulting from night 
 studies. But I will not describe my own 
 feelings in order to alarm you. I will only 
 remind you of one, over whose sorrows we 
 have together wept, and whose memory
 
 EARtY RISING. 
 
 has been enshrined in both our hearts ; 
 whose tender frame could ill endure the 
 blasts of opposition to which it was ex- 
 posed, and whose delicate mind shrunk 
 from the cruel scrutiny which wantonly 
 trifled with the fruit of its attainments; 
 whose imagination soared in its ideal flights 
 into regions where there was no critic to 
 lash, no censor to condemn ; but whose 
 reason could not sustain the assaults, and 
 whose courage could not grapple with the 
 conflicts to which we are daily exposed in 
 the path of real life and actual experience; 
 who seemed too tender and too delicate a 
 plant for earth, and was soon removed to a 
 more congenial soil, and a more propitious 
 climate. The very mention of the name of 
 Henry Kirke White, whilst it includes all 
 that is amiable in disposition, delicate in 
 sentiment, elegant in taste, and exalted in 
 genius, should serve as a friendly monitor 
 to those who are seeking honours in a simi- 
 lar track ; and should whisper the caution, 
 to avoid the dangerous course which ruined 
 his health, and shook the nobler fabric of 
 his mind.
 
 110 LETTERS ON 
 
 Will you urge in reply, that to the man 
 who has time to expatiate over the whole 
 extent of general literature, who is a mere 
 virtuoso in intellectual pursuits, who can 
 exchange the reasonings of philosophy for 
 the more attractive fascinations of poetry 
 or of fiction, who can quit the minute re- 
 searches of judgment for the extended 
 flights and airy visions of imagination, with- 
 out acting inconsistently with his duty, or 
 interfering with necessary and indispensible 
 engagements, that to such a man my ad- 
 vice might be applicable ; but, that to one 
 whose daily avocations require the practical 
 application of his nocturnal acquisitions of 
 knowledge, and whose active life leaves no 
 leisure hour in which to provide for the 
 emergencies of the next, the recommenda- 
 tion to relinquish the opportunities which 
 night affords of advancing his professional 
 attainments, would be to surrender all 
 hopes of present credit or of future emi- 
 nence? Let me ask you, have you never 
 thought that the same portion of time in 
 the morning, before the business of the day 
 has commenced, is at least equally valu-
 
 EARLY RISING. Ill 
 
 able as that at night, after the body has 
 been exhausted by fatigue, and the mind 
 wearied by exertion ? Has it never occur- 
 red to you, that there are many peculiar 
 advantages attached to such an employment 
 of the early part of the day, arising from its 
 adaptation to mental pursuits, and its in- 
 vigorating effects upon the corporeal powers ? 
 If you have never reflected on this, let me 
 intreat you to give it the consideration 
 which it demands ; and if you have some- 
 times speculated upon its probable correct- 
 ness, let me persuade you to experience its 
 practical truth. 
 
 I am well aware of the delusive view 
 which a young man is apt to take of this 
 subject. He has been accustomed to as- 
 sociate in his mind the idea of great ad- 
 vancement in knowledge, or superior emi- 
 nence in his professional application, with 
 that of midnight study. The very terms 
 which are often employed to designate those 
 works which he has regarded as the labours 
 of men of the highest attainments and great- 
 est abilities, have served to confirm this 
 impression. He has read of the "Annorum
 
 112 LETTERS ON 
 
 viginti Lucubraticnes" of the lawyer; the 
 erudite productions and finished composi- 
 tions of a celebrated author have been 
 characterized as "smelling of the lamp;" 
 and the works to which he has attached the 
 confidence of authority, and on which he 
 has looked as the standards of correctness, 
 have been pronounced to bear the marks of 
 midnight research ; and whilst he has been 
 desirous both to derive the information 
 which they convey, and to emulate the as- 
 siduity and possess tlie knowledge of their 
 authors, he considers that the only method 
 is to follow their example, and to tread in 
 their steps. But let me ask you, my dear 
 Charles, if this is not, after all, a mere de- 
 ception? Have we not had repeated in- 
 stances of men of the greatest learning and 
 most solid acquirements, who are indebted 
 for them to the morning rather than to the 
 night? And does not this season afford 
 epithets much more in unison with your 
 feelings, and more grateful to your mind, 
 than the shades of darkness ? Will you be- 
 lieve the feeble glimmerings of the lamp, 
 whose light is conveyed in fitful flashes, to
 
 EARLY RISING. 113 
 
 be so influential upon the thinking faculties, 
 so auxiliary to the intellectual powers, as 
 the pure, unwavering blaze of the orb of 
 day ? Would you rather your compositions 
 .should be scented with the odours of its 
 oil, than breathe the freshness, and impart 
 the fragrance of the morn ? Would you 
 prefer the intended compliment of a com- 
 panion to the owl, to the more pleasing 
 comparison with the lark ? However you 
 may feel about the matter, my dear fellow, 
 let me tell you that you shall have the 
 blinkings and the blindness, the screechings 
 and the squallings of the former ; if J can 
 enjoy the liveliness and the loftiness, the 
 melody and the music of the latter. 
 
 But let me assure you, my dear Charles, 
 that I am much more inclined to be serious 
 than jocose, and that I feel so strongly the 
 importance of what I have been writing, 
 that I shall not be satisfied till I have reason 
 to believe that you have been convinced of 
 its propriety, and have acted up to your con- 
 victions. Even supposing for a moment 
 (though it is what I can never allow,) that 
 there is not that power of close application
 
 114 LETTERS ON 
 
 to study in the morning that the evening 
 affords, yet you cannot deny the different 
 effects which they are calculated to produce 
 upon the health, and eventually upon the 
 mental faculties. And is the advancement 
 in intellectual improvement of such exclu- 
 sive importance ? is the cultivation of the 
 mind of such paramount consequence ? 
 Remember, my dear Charles, that a pro- 
 gressive knowledge of divine things, a 
 growth in grace, an increasingly useful em- 
 ployment of talents, and a more correct 
 standard of moral excellence, should be the 
 supreme objects of your regard. If you 
 were wholly to devote your time to literary 
 pursuits ; if you could acquire all that as- 
 siduity could bestow or perseverance effecf ; 
 if you could ascend the highest eminence 
 which genius had ever reached, and com- 
 mand a greater extent of view than the 
 most exalted mind has yet enjoyed ; if you 
 could cast your eye over the spacious field 
 which expanded beneath you, and behold 
 from your "speculative height" a prospect 
 that was only bounded by the inequality of 
 your vision ; you would be led to confess
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 that your pre-eminence afforded no rational 
 ground for self-importance ; or, if you were 
 too proud to make such an avowal, we 
 should soon be convinced of its truth. But 
 the Scriptures hold out to you a nobler 
 object of acquisition, an object worthy of 
 your most earnest endeavours, and calcu- 
 lated to reward your most diligent exertions. 
 There are summits of greater elevation, 
 sublimer heights which afford more exten- 
 sive views. The perfection which the 
 Christian is exhorted to attain, will present 
 a constant object for your emulation ; and 
 whilst there is no promise contained in the 
 word of truth to cheer us in our mental pur- 
 suits or intellectual labours, when confined 
 to the narrow limits of our present exist- 
 ence, there is every thing to animate our 
 zeal and invigorate our strength in our pro- 
 gress in the divine life; and, at the same 
 time, the Holy Spirit is promised to those 
 who ask it, by Him through whom it flows, 
 on whom it was bestowed without measure, 
 and in whom " all fulness dwells." 
 
 Yours, very affectionately.
 
 116 LETTERS OX 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 AND do you still, my dear Charles, 
 really fear that if you follow my advice, 
 and devote the early hours of morning to 
 study, that you shall not gain any thing in 
 point of intellectual advantage ; or rather, 
 that you shall not be so well able to attend 
 to your professional researches then, as at 
 night? Let me only beg your candid atten- 
 tion to a few of the arguments which may 
 with propriety be urged on my side of the 
 question, reminding you at the same time* 
 if you should be inclined to consider my 
 opinions as merely speculative, that I might 
 not only adduce my own actual experience, 
 but that I could refer you to a long and 
 luminous train of literati, whose example 
 should inspire your emulation, and whose 
 learning should remove every doubt from 
 your mind.
 
 EARLY RISING. 117 
 
 You cannot hesitate to admit what I 
 have before alluded to the intimate con- 
 nexion that exists between the body and 
 the mind, and how much the strength and 
 energies of the latter depend upon the 
 vigour and health of the former. Their 
 union is so strict, thatthey alternately impede 
 or assist, excite or depress, stimulate or as- 
 suage each other. And when, is it natural to 
 suppose, that the body is the most likely 
 to afford that co-operation with the mind 
 which it requires? Will it not be when its 
 members are the least discomposed by fa- 
 tigue ; when its power has been the least 
 weakened by exertion ; when the strength 
 has been augmented by the refreshment of 
 rest, and when its functions are discharged 
 with the greatest ease, and the least per_ 
 ceptible constraint ? And is not this pre- 
 cisely the case in the early part of the 
 morning ? It is then that the corporeal 
 faculties seem ready to obey the intellec- 
 tual; that mind exerts a sovereignty, and 
 maintains a superiority that is peculiarly 
 favourable for the promotion of its opera- 
 tions ; and that every nerve and muscle
 
 118 LE1TERS ON 
 
 com blue to give an elasticity to thought, 
 and a sprightliness to genius, which no 
 other portion of the day affords. 
 
 Another advantage, and I am inclined 
 to consider it a very important one, is, the 
 cheerfulness of disposition which is gene- 
 rally experienced in the morning. The 
 temper has not yet been ruffled by the op- 
 position that the business of the day occa- 
 sions ; the inclination has not been thwarted 
 by the obstinacy or the ignorance of those 
 who ought to have complied with it; the 
 will has not been denied what it \\ as anxious 
 to obtain : but the pleasure resulting from 
 the conquest of self, and sensual indul- 
 gence, produces a complacency of feeling, 
 which invests every object in the most 
 agreeable colours, and lessens the difficul- 
 ties which would at any other period have 
 assumed a formidable aspect. I need not 
 impress upon you the importance of this 
 state of mind, and its absolute necessity if 
 we \vish to study to real advantage and last- 
 ing benefit. There is not a greater enemy 
 to literary pursuits than discontent. It 
 draws a deceitful veil before our fairest pros-
 
 EAIUY RISING. 119 
 
 pects ; it insinuates that our present em- 
 ployments will not promote our future in- 
 terests, but that some other occupation 
 would better advance them, and that a dif- 
 ferent course of study would lead us by a 
 shorter and more flowery road to the object 
 of our ambition. It depresses the animal 
 spirits, weakens the very springs of action, 
 undermines the whole fabric we had en- 
 deavoured to erect, annihilates hope, and 
 sweeps away the resolutions which it had 
 cost us months to mature, and deprives us 
 of the benefits of their adoption, just as we 
 were beginning to put them into execu- 
 tion. 
 
 Perhaps, however, I cannot urge a 
 stronger or a more available argument in 
 support of my position, than the well-attested 
 fact, of the extraordinary power which me- 
 mory exerts in the morning. You can recol- 
 lect the time M'hen your school-boy task was 
 read the last thing at night, and was perfectly 
 learnt by one or two repetitions in the 
 morning. And you have, no doubt, in 
 later periods, often endeavoured at night, 
 with earnest but fruitless care, to recollect
 
 120 LETTERS ON 
 
 some particular authority, to recal some 
 apposite case, or to strengthen your own 
 opinion by the dictum of some learned 
 lawyer, which you have formerly met with ; 
 but you have been obliged to relinquish 
 your object, completely foiled and disap- 
 pointed : when on the succeeding morning 
 without a mental effort, the wished-for 
 passage, or the name of the desired author 
 has suddenly flashed across your mind, and 
 afforded you the assistance you required. 
 Many persons have mentioned to me similar 
 instances of the strength of their memories 
 in the morning, alluding to them merely as 
 curious facts, without either resolving to 
 derive any advantage from the habitual use 
 of so favourable a period, or endeavouring 
 to explain a phenomenon, the existence of 
 which they were ready to acknowledge. 
 You may, perhaps, be better able to do the 
 latter than myself; but whether you succeed 
 in this or not, you have it in your power to 
 enjoy all the benefits which can result from 
 the former. Surely that time is the most 
 favourable for study, in which recollection 
 exerts its full and uninterrupted force. Nor
 
 EAHIA RISING. 
 
 is it merely instrumental in recalling at plea- 
 sure past acquisitions of knowledge ; it im- 
 presses upon the understanding, and infixes 
 in the memory, the facts and the truths 
 which you are then attending to ; and adds 
 to that store of information from which you 
 are to draw your future supplies, and to 
 which you are to look as the source of your 
 future attainments. 
 
 It is a possible case, that you may have 
 made the experiment of morning study, and 
 after a first or second trial have relinquished 
 it. The difficulty which you have experi- 
 enced in breaking off your accustomed 
 habit of lying in bed, has probably dis- 
 pirited you ; and the loss of time whicli has 
 been occasioned by surrendering the even- 
 ing in order to gain the morning, and after 
 all, losing the morning through the want of 
 sufficient resolution to overcome your usual 
 indulgence, has induced you to resolve to 
 secure those hours which were within your 
 [tower, and not to abandon the present cer- 
 tainty for the morrow's probability. But, 
 I must beg of you to remember, that how- 
 ever plainly this may prove your irresolu-
 
 122 LETTERS ON 
 
 tion, and however great a reflection it may 
 cast on your courage and decision, it does 
 not in any way invalidate my arguments ; 
 nor can I suffer any thing that you can urge 
 of a speculative nature to alter my opinion 
 so long as I can refer to my own experi- 
 ence, and to that of those celebrated au- 
 thors, who, if living, could not only employ 
 a power of persuasion and a force of rea- 
 soning on this subject, superior to any thing 
 I can hope to possess, but who, though 
 dead, still speak in the mementoes of their 
 greatness which they have left for posterity ; 
 evincing at once the value of that time 
 which they devoted to their composition, 
 the admirable manner in which it was em- 
 ployed, and its peculiar suitableness for the 
 profitable employments to which it was 
 applied. 
 
 Has the recollection of some learned 
 writer, some erudite scholar, or some pro- 
 found lawyer, to whom you have been ac- 
 customed to look with reverence, and who 
 was indebted for his proficiency to the quiet 
 hours of night, seduced you into the adop- 
 tion of his practice, and led you to follow
 
 EARLY RISING. 123 
 
 his example ? But do you remember, that 
 though he has left for your improvement 
 the result of his diligence, he has not com- 
 municated to you the anxiety of mind and 
 the debility of body which it produced? 
 That though you can trace the workings of 
 his cultivated and well-stored intellect, and 
 reap the benefits of its arduous labours, you 
 cannot mark the nervous irritability that agi- 
 tated his frame, and the melancholy forebod- 
 ings which sometimes clouded his despond- 
 ing imagination ? That though you can still 
 contemplate with rapture the bright corus- 
 cations of eloquence that flashed from his 
 pen, you cannot now behold with pity the 
 languor of his faded eye ? That though you 
 can admire the perseverance which seemed 
 to bring within the compass of one short 
 life, what appeared to require the extended 
 duration of centuries; and though you may 
 long to emulate the strength of intellect 
 which could retain within its grasp the 
 mighty mass of information which ages 
 might have been well employed in accu- 
 mulating; your sympathy cannot now be 
 excited for the sacrifice of health which
 
 14 LETTERS ON 
 
 had been offered, the surrender of less at- 
 tractive but more endearing qualities which 
 had been made, and the dark and dismal 
 cloud which the studies of night had often 
 thrown before his future prospects, leading 
 him to doubt the correctness of the very 
 principles in which you are now confiding, 
 and to question the value of the sentiments 
 which have become the standard of your 
 judgment, and the ground of your reliance ? 
 Could you but disencumber your imagina- 
 tion of all the pleasing accompaniments 
 with which YOU have invested your favou- 
 rite author, and instead of viewing him as 
 crowned with the chaplet of literary fame, 
 could you dwell upon the pallid cheek 
 which glowed not at the dear bought ho- 
 nour, and mark the sunken eye which glist- 
 ened not at the bestowment of the meed, 
 the attainment of which had robbed it of its 
 fire ; instead of desiring to pursue a similar 
 track to obtain the same reward, you would 
 be almost tempted to exclaim, 
 
 Oh! Health, is Thought thy foe? Adieu 
 
 Ye midnight lamps, ye curious tomes, 
 
 Mine eye o'er hills and vallies roams, 
 
 And deals no more with you." SHEJJSTON*.
 
 EARLY RISING. 125 
 
 And will you not, my dear Charles, 
 rather follow the example of those who 
 have made as great a proficiency in their 
 several departments of learning as your 
 highest ambition could hope, or your most 
 sanguine wishes could desire to attain, but 
 who, at the same time, have made the least 
 possible sacrifice of health ? or do you fear 
 that there are no such examples ? Let me 
 just remind you of a few, out of the num- 
 bers that I could mention. 
 
 Bishop Burnet, the author of " The 
 History of his own Times," was an ha- 
 bitual early riser. Whilst he was at college, 
 his father used to arouse him to his studies 
 every morning at four o'clock, and he con- 
 tinued the practice during the remainder of 
 his life. It is to this habit that we are in- 
 debted to Dr. Doddridge for nearly the 
 whole of his valuable works, who, notwith- 
 standing his various labours, both as a mi- 
 nister and a tutor, has left us many proofs 
 of his talents as an author*. Bishop Jewell 
 
 * Doddridge's Family Expositor. Note to Remarks. 
 Rom. c. xiii. v. 13.
 
 126 LETTERS ON 
 
 regularly rose to study at four. Sir Thomas 
 More usually rose at the same early hour, and 
 yet he remarks in his preface to the Utopia, 
 that he had completed that work by stealing 
 time from his sleep and his meals ; and he 
 appeared to be so well satisfied of the ex- 
 cellence of the habit, that he represents the 
 Utopains as attending public lectures every 
 morning before day-break. 
 
 Dr. Parkhurst, the philologist rose re- 
 gularly at five in summer and winter, and 
 in the latter season made his own fire. It 
 is recorded of John, Lord Hervey, that " in 
 those early hours when all around were 
 hushed in sleep, he seized the opportunity 
 of that quiet as the most favourable season 
 for study, and frequently spent an useful 
 day before others began to enjoy it.* 
 
 Do you not remember Paley's account 
 of the early part of his college life? " I 
 spent," said he, when conversing with some 
 of his friends, " I spent the first two years 
 of my under-graduateship happily, but un- 
 
 * Middieton'* dedication to the Dfe of Cicero.
 
 EARLY KISING. 127 
 
 profitably. I was constantly in society, 
 where we were not immoral, but idle and 
 rather expensive. At the commencement 
 of my third year, however, after having left 
 the usual party at rather a late hour in the 
 evening, I was awakened at five in the 
 morning by one of my companions, who 
 stood at my bed-side, and said, ' Paley, 
 I have been thinking what a fool you are. 
 f could do nothing probably, if I were to 
 try, and can afford the life I lead : you 
 could do every thing, and cannot afford it. 
 I have had no sleep during the whole night 
 on account of these reflections, and am 
 now come solemnly to inform you, that if 
 you persist in your indolence, I must re- 
 nounce your society.' I was so struck," 
 Dr. Paley continued, " with the visit and 
 the visiter, that I lay in bed great part of 
 the day, and formed my plan. I ordered 
 my bed-maker to lay my fire every evening, 
 in order that it might be lighted by myself. 
 I arose at Jive, read during the whole of 
 the day, except such hours as chapel and 
 hall required, allotting to each portion of
 
 123 LETTEKS ON 
 
 time its peculiar branch of study : and just 
 before the closing of gates (nine o'clock) 
 t went to a neighbouring coffee-house, 
 where I constantly regaled upon a mutton 
 chop and a dose of milk punch, and then 
 on taking my bachelor's degree, I became 
 senior wrangler."* 
 
 I might refer you to the opinions and 
 practice of the famous Franklin, and Priest- 
 ley, and many others; but you will, per- 
 haps, prefer an example taken from one in 
 your own profession. Sir Matthew Hale, 
 that great and learned lawyer, and pious 
 Christian, whilst at Lincoln's Inn preparing 
 himself for the bar, studied sixteen hours 
 in the day, rising very early every morning. 
 
 Do you need classical authorities ? You 
 remember our old friend Horace's " gna- 
 vus mane forum," and " sub galli cantum 
 consultor ubi ost ia puhat ; " t and Homer 
 has told us, 
 
 Meadle/s Memoirs of Dr. Paley, p. 194,. 5. t Hot. 
 Sat. 1. 1. Sat. 1. U 10.
 
 EARLY RISING. 1 
 
 And your master, Sir Edward Coke, has 
 quoted with approbation, and recommended 
 to his readers, the following lines from some 
 ancient poet ; 
 
 Sex boras somno, totidem des legibus sequis, 
 
 Quatuor orabis, des Epulisque duas, 
 
 Quod superest ultro sacris largire Camaenis.* 
 
 Whilst you are anxious, my dear Charles, 
 to rise to the summit of your profession, 
 and are emulous of the talents of those 
 great and learned men who have preceded 
 yeu, may you pursue your studies with that 
 moderation which the dictates both of rea- 
 son and scripture require. May your great 
 concern be, to promote the glory of God 
 in whatever you do : and may you be de- 
 sirous that in proportion as your knowledge 
 is increased, your piety may be augmented ; 
 that every fresh accession of influence may 
 be employed for the advancement of the 
 kingdom of Christ ; and that however high 
 your attainments, or, however extended your 
 learning may be, you may still sit at the 
 
 * Co. Lit. J. 2. c. 1. b. 64. 
 
 G 5
 
 130 LETTERS ON 
 
 feet of Jesus with the meekness of a little 
 child, " and count all things but loss for 
 the excellency of the knowledge of Christ 
 Jesus your Lord, for whom" may you be 
 " willing to suffer the loss of all things, and 
 count them but dung, that you may win 
 Christ." 
 
 Yours, very sincerely.
 
 F.AHI.Y RISING. 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 To Mrs. G. 
 
 MY DEAR MADAM, 
 
 I HAVE been hesitating a little as 
 to which of your family I should address 
 this letter, as all my correspondents to 
 whoin I have been recommending the habit 
 of early rising, have severally complained 
 of my deficiency in one respect. They tell 
 me that I have pointed out their error, and 
 urged upon them respectively those reasons 
 for a change in their conduct, which appear- 
 ed to apply individually to them, but that I 
 have not attempted to give them any direc- 
 tions as to the most effectual method of ren- 
 dering my advice of some avail, by enabling 
 them to put it into practice. I am re-' 
 solved, therefore, to endeavour to supply 
 the omission, and will thank you to consider 
 yourself as being not only personally in- 
 terested hi the contents of this letter, but
 
 132 ' LETTERS ON 
 
 also as the channel of communication to 
 the rest of your family. 
 
 You complain that you were led to 
 form resolutions, which you thought very 
 determined, but that after two or three 
 mornings, you returned to your old habit, 
 and required some new stimulus to operate 
 upon you. If you have been induced but 
 once to get the better of your indisposition 
 to rise, you have proved that the difficulty 
 was not insuperable, and that only the con- 
 tinuation of the motive was wanted to pro- 
 duce a perseverance in the effect: and I 
 am aware of nothing so likely to procure 
 the desired result, as the habitual persuasion 
 of the importance of early rising itself, and 
 the numerous advantages which attend it. 
 Endeavour to impress your mind every 
 night before you go to sleep, with the in- 
 dispensable necessity of rising early on the 
 following morning. Take a cursory re- 
 view of all the arguments which have been, 
 or may be, advanced, in favour of the prac- 
 tice ; of the happy effects which it pro- 
 duces ; and the pernicious consequences
 
 EARLY RISING. 133 
 
 which result from a contrary line of con- 
 duct. Think on the value of the smallest 
 portion of time, the regret that is occasioned 
 by a recollection of its loss, and the satis- 
 faction that is experienced by reflections on 
 its improvement : how consoling the re- 
 trospect of minutes won ! how sad the re- 
 membrance of moments thrown away ! 
 Anticipate the feelings of a death-bed 
 recurrence to the years that are past ; divest 
 yourself of the carelessness of health and 
 security ; and realiz^ the views of one who 
 is awakened by the pangs of dissolution 
 and the prospects of eternity ; recal the so- 
 lemn fact to your mind, that time is a talent 
 of which you must render an exact ac- 
 count, and determine to spend it now, as 
 you would then wish it had been spent. 
 Look back upon the countless hours al- 
 ready lost, and though you cannot redeem 
 them, you may prove that you are not im- 
 penitent, by the economical use of those 
 which remain; and accustom yourself to 
 meditate on the probability of your sud- 
 denly exchanging misitnproved time for an
 
 134 LETTERS ON 
 
 eternity which will not be too long to la- 
 ment its profusion. It is by reflections 
 such as these that the incitement will con- 
 tinue, and you will soon establish such a 
 regular custom of early rising, that the 
 practice will eventually become habitual, 
 without the necessity of recalling the rea- 
 sons which led to it. 
 
 I am aware of the inflexibility of a 
 deeply-rooted habit, and the difficulty that 
 attends the effort to eradicate it : but this 
 difficulty is greatly increased or diminished 
 according as the means employed for its 
 destruction are improperly or wisely select- 
 ed. And I do not hesitate to say, that if 
 you will follow my advice for one month, 
 you will find that the slothful and pernici- 
 ous habit of lying in bed longer than is suf- 
 ficient to recruit the exhausted energies of 
 the frame, may be most easily overcome. 
 What is habit, but the repetition of single 
 acts ? The first was an involuntary error, the 
 next derived a kind of sanction from its 
 having a precedent, the third followed upon 
 the authority of the former two, the fourth
 
 EARLY RISING 
 
 appeared almost natural, and so they con- 
 tinued in succession till their impropriety 
 was overlooked, and their frequency served 
 to hide their odiousness. " Habit," says a 
 learned writer, " like a complex mathe- 
 matical scheme, flowed originally from a 
 point, which insensibly became a line, 
 which unfortunately became a curve, which 
 finally became a difficulty not easily to 
 be unravelled." But is there no way of 
 unravelling this difficulty, though it may not 
 be very easily effected ? May it not be gra- 
 dually destroyed, as it was gradually created'? 
 No doubt it may; and the most effectual 
 manner of emancipating yourself from the 
 slavish habit alluded to, will be by breaking 
 it off as it was formed by degrees. 
 
 You have most likely felt all the ear- 
 nestness which is very frequently the result 
 of recent convictions, and have determined 
 to carry your resolutions into practice, 
 anxious to derive the immediate advantage 
 which you wished to obtain, rather than to 
 lay a solid foundation for future perseve- 
 rance. You have risen two or three hours
 
 136 LETTERS ON 
 
 earlier than your accustomed time, and 
 pleased alike with the novelty of the thing 
 itself, the conquest you have made, and the 
 liveliness and vivacity of spirits which the 
 morning air has produced, you have thought 
 that the point was gained by a single effort, 
 and have given yourself up to all the se- 
 curity of victory. But you have found that 
 you were mistaken. In a few mornings, 
 when the first impulse had lost its original 
 force, when the stimulus had subsided, and 
 was succeeded by a self-complacent assu- 
 rance of success, and when the diminution 
 of your usual quantity of sleep occasioned 
 a greater than ordinary degree of drowsi- 
 ness and disinclination to rise ; you relapsed 
 at once into your old degeneracy, dispirited 
 by your failure, and requiring some new 
 energies to rouse you from your lethargy. 
 I dp not wonder at the result, for I have felt 
 precisely the same myself; and if I may be 
 permitted to allude to my own experience 
 as a proof of the most effectual method of 
 gaining your object, the plan I would re- 
 commend possesses that advantage. You
 
 EARLY RISING. 137 
 
 must conquer by degrees. Rise five minutes 
 earlier every morning, till you have arrived 
 at the hour which appears to you most eli- 
 gible. You will thus accomplish the work 
 which you are so anxious to effect. The 
 daily subtraction from sleep will be so 
 trifling that it will not occasion that drowsi- 
 ness on the succeeding morning which the 
 sudden change from rising at eight to five 
 must necessarily produce. You will thus 
 reach the object of your wishes in the 
 surest and easiest manner. You will be 
 daily undermining a very injurious habit, 
 and confirming a very useful one. A 
 short period will make such a sensible dif- 
 ference in the time you have gained, that 
 you will begin to feel the pleasure of victory, 
 before you are scarcely conscious of having 
 commenced the combat. The last day in 
 each week will be half an hour longer than 
 the first, and at the termination of a month 
 you will become an early riser, with the ad- 
 ditional advantage of having formed the 
 habit in such a manner that there is little 
 danger of its being relinquished.
 
 138 LETTERS ON 
 
 As I cannot presume to take upon my- 
 self the character of your family physician, 
 I will not venture to attempt a definitive 
 answer to your question, as to the quantity 
 of sleep necessary for health. Each indi- 
 vidual may soon judge for himself, and very 
 few err on the side of allowing themselves 
 too little. I do not think that nature re- 
 quires more than six or seven hours sleep at 
 the farthest ; and if one quarter of your time 
 consumed in total inaction be sufficient to 
 recruit the corporeal and mental faculties, 
 you will surely be anxious that no more 
 should be sacrificed than is absolutely ne- 
 cessary. If you feel the proportion to be 
 inadequate, let an hour be taken from the 
 evening rather than the morning. Retire 
 to rest earlier, but do not lie in bed later. 
 Look upon the beginning of the day as 
 sacred; resolve that nothing shall rob you 
 of it ; remember that the enjoyment of it 
 is the reward of a conquest, the spoils of 
 an incursion upon an enemy's territory, un- 
 justly acquired by him, and lawfully regain- 
 ed by you ; that they are the uninterrupted
 
 EARLY RISING. 139 
 
 hours upon which no unwelcome visiter 
 intrudes, no unexpected engagement in- 
 fringes, and no unlocked for employment 
 trespasses. Shew that you know their 
 value too well to throw them away ; that 
 you estimate their advantages at too high a 
 rate to relinquish them. Consider the re- 
 gret you have sometimes felt when you 
 have omitted to improve them ; the expense 
 of feeling it has cost you when your resolu- 
 tions were ineffectual, and the satisfaction 
 that crowned your triumph. 
 
 But let me remind you of one thing ; 
 that the best assurance of eventual success 
 in your endeavours to form this desirable 
 habit, will result from the assistance of the 
 Holy Spirit. I need not urge upon you the 
 consideration of your own weakness : a re- 
 currence to many parts of your past experi- 
 ence will best convince you of this. Nor 
 need I point out to you those passages in the 
 sacred Scriptures in which his influences 
 are promised, and his assistance is proffered. 
 You are well acquainted with them, and I 
 will conclude by entreating you to apply
 
 them to the present object ; and whatever 
 difficulties may appear to oppose, whatever 
 impediments may threaten to obstruct, and 
 whatever obstacles may seem to prevent, 
 they shall all be completely removed and 
 overcome; and you will experience the 
 truth of that encouraging declaration, that 
 through Jesus Christ strengthening us we 
 can do all things. 
 
 I am, &c.
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 To Mr. Charles G. 
 
 MY DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 WHATEVER arguments may have 
 been employed in the letters which I have 
 already addressed to you on the subject of 
 early rising, they have been principally, if 
 not entirely, drawn from considerations 
 which may be regarded as being exclusively 
 of a temporal nature. Not but that I am 
 fully sensible that every advantage, which I 
 have endeavoured to point out to you as 
 the result of this beneficial practice, may be 
 rendered subservient to the promotion of 
 more important objects, and the fulfilment 
 of higher purposes ; but the motives which 
 have been urged have been such as might 
 with equal propriety have been insisted on, 
 if I had been addressing myself to one who 
 was a stranger to the great truths of the 
 Gospel, and who did not profess to be in- 
 fluenced by the doctrines, or guided by the
 
 142 LETTERS ON 
 
 precepts of Christianity. But you are 
 equally sensible with myself of the com- 
 parative insignificance of every motive that 
 is not derived from the fountain of all truth ; 
 and of the deficiency of every result that is 
 not connected with the advancement of the 
 glory of God, and the promotion of our own 
 spiritual interests. It is upon this ground 
 that I now desire to meet you ; and what- 
 ever may have been written with regard to 
 your health, your time, or your intellectual 
 improvement, it will not be of so much 
 avail as those reasons which I would urge 
 upon you as a Christian, and those prin- 
 ciples of action with which I would endea- 
 vour to supply you from the word of God. 
 To one who believes with a firm and well- 
 grounded faith in the doctrines, who has 
 imbibed with his earliest convictions the 
 spirit, and who endeavours to practise in 
 his daily walk and conversation the com- 
 mands of Christ, such an appeal will not 
 be made in vain ; and I cannot but hope 
 that if I succeed in convincing you that the 
 habit which I have endeavoured to recom- 
 mend forms an essential part of Christian
 
 EARLY RISING. 143 
 
 duty and gospel obedience; and that the 
 contrary practice is opposed to those pure 
 and holy precepts which the word of truth 
 contains, and is inconsistent with the cha- 
 racter of a disciple of Christ; I shall have 
 succeeded in leading you to view the sub- 
 ject in a light in which you have never be- 
 fore regarded it, and that this will be fol- 
 lowed by a corresponding practice, proving 
 at once the sincerity of your convictions 
 and your decision of character. 
 
 You have not now to be told that the 
 Bible must furnish you with the grounds of 
 your faith, and that from thence you are to 
 draw the rules of your conduct ; that it is 
 there you must learn what you are to be- 
 lieve, and discover what you are to prac- 
 tise : and that whatever temptations the 
 desire of self-gratification may present, 
 whatever allurements fleshly indulgence 
 may offer, and whatever obstacles a sensual 
 inclination may create ; however uninviting 
 an appearance the fear of personal incon- 
 venience may give to particular passages 
 of sacred writ ; however we may be some- 
 times inclined to modify the requirements
 
 144 LETTERS ON 
 
 of the Gospel, and whatever boundary our 
 own accommodation would set to the extent 
 of the divine commands ; yet still the pure 
 and unadulterated word of God is to be the 
 rule of all our actions ; nor must we endea- 
 vour to reduce Christianity to a mere spe- 
 culative creed, and circumscribe its influ- 
 ence within the limits of a few inoperative 
 doctrines. And though I may not be able 
 to refer you to any one text in Scripture 
 which may have been originally intended to 
 forbid the prejudicial practice I have been 
 deprecating, or to enforce the adoption of 
 the habit I have been recommending ; yet I 
 do not hesitate to assert, that the whole 
 spirit of the Gospel, the constant tenor of 
 its doctrines, the invariable tendency of its 
 precepts, and the evident result of its prac- 
 tical influence, all combine to stigmatise 
 the sensual indulgence of the morning slug- 
 gard as being opposed to the will of God, 
 and contrary to the very fundamental prin- 
 ciples on which the whole fabric of Chris- 
 tianity itself is erected. 
 
 However a very large proportion of 
 those who have professed to embrace the
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 Scriptures as the rule of their conduct may 
 act, and whatever attempts they may make 
 to evade the personal application of those 
 parts of the word of truth which interfere 
 with the indulgence of their besetting sins, 
 yet the Bible still remains the same ; " let 
 God be true and every man a liar:" and 
 whenever you are tempted for one moment 
 to contrast your life or behaviour with 
 that of those around you, rather than to try 
 it by the unerring standard of divine revela- 
 tion ; remember that you are exhorted " not 
 to do as do others;" that " to their own 
 Master they must stand or fall ; " and that 
 you are to draw your principles of action 
 simply from the word of God, being influ- 
 enced by no example but in proportion as 
 it is conformable to the pattern there ex- 
 hibited, and submitting to no authority 
 which is not supported by the solid basis 
 of everlasting truth. 
 
 The temperance and self-denial which 
 the Gospel enjoins upon its believers, ex- 
 tend much further than many are wiling to 
 allow ; or, if their judgments are convinced, 
 their conduct contradicts their convictions. 
 
 H
 
 146 LETTEKS OK 
 
 They may abstain from those grosser vices 
 which are included in the reprehension of 
 many of its declarations, and the commis- 
 sion of which an attention to external de- 
 corum, and the general notions of society, 
 would have prevented : but they appear to 
 be unacquainted with that purity which is 
 required by the word of God, and which, 
 by extending its influence to the inmost re- 
 cesses of the heart, and diffusing itself into 
 every thought and every action, evidently 
 demonstrates the divine original from which 
 it springs, and happily promotes a resem- 
 blance of His holy image. If you have 
 never viewed the practice of early rising as 
 forming a distinguishing feature in the mo- 
 rality of the Gospel, and as constituting an 
 important branch of Christian duty, it may 
 not be misemploying either your time or my 
 own, if I endeavour to point out to you by 
 what particular language the Gospel en- 
 forces this habit of temperance, as well as 
 the end it has in view. And I cannot but 
 hope and believe, that you will no longer 
 waver in your opinions whether the admo- 
 nitions of Scripture are applicable to the
 
 EARLY RISING. 147 
 
 indulgence which I am anxious you should 
 overcome, or be indifferent to the exercise 
 of that self-denial which I am equally 
 anxious you should practise. 
 
 And what is the end at which the Gos- 
 pel aims, in enforcing the duty of Christian 
 temperance? The apostle Paul will best 
 explain this : " Every man that striveth 
 for the mastery is temperate in all things ; 
 now they do it to obtain a corruptible 
 crown, but we an incorruptible."* The 
 means are only to be considered as valuable 
 in proportion as they are instrumental in ef- 
 fecting the desired object; and the great 
 and important object which Christians 
 should constantly keep in view, is to obtain 
 the mastery, to complete the victory over 
 their enemies the world, and the flesh. 
 The latter is to be constantly regarded as a 
 most indefatigable and artful foe; and the 
 disciple of Jesus Christ will not lay down 
 the " weapons of his warfare" against it, 
 till the " Captain of his salvation" has 
 made him come off more than a con- 
 
 1 Cor. ix, 25.
 
 48 LETTERS UN 
 
 queror, through him that hath loved him. 
 Every thing, therefore, that is calculated to 
 weaken his efforts, to render his former 
 triumphs of little avail, or to interrupt the 
 constancy and diminish the force of his pre- 
 sent exertions, is equally opposed to his 
 own welfare and the design of the Gospel. 
 And let me put it to your candid judgment 
 let me refer it to your own experience, if 
 the habit I have been reprehending has not 
 this manifest tendency. It is in itself a 
 complete surrender to the demands of the 
 flesh, and a relinquishment of that superi- 
 ority which the mind ought ever to maintain 
 over the body; it is a concession of the 
 fundamental principles of Christian practice 
 to the requirements of a base propensity, 
 which is inconsistent with the purity, and in- 
 compatible with the holiness of evangelical 
 doctrines and precepts. And in its imme- 
 diate, as well as its more remote effects, it 
 produces a torpid inactivity, which is di- 
 rectly opposite to that lively watchfulness 
 which should characterise the follower of 
 the Son of God. It encourages the growth 
 of the most unholy and impure desires ; it
 
 EARLY KISINU. 149 
 
 disables us from enduring hardships as 
 " good soldiers of Jesus Christ; it unfits 
 the soul for the enjoyment of that calm and 
 happy frame, in which every impetuous pas- 
 sion becomes tractable, and all the faculties 
 of the body and mind are subservient to its 
 desires and seem almost to animate its de- 
 votion : it checks the energies of that faith 
 which disengages us from the trammels of 
 the world, enfranchises us from the cap- 
 tivity of our senses, delivers us from the 
 thraldom of our lusts, and while it exhibits 
 to us the glories of heaven, prepares us for 
 their possession and their enjoyment. It 
 pampers and gratifies the body, enfeebles 
 and enervates the mind, and throws a dark 
 and gloomy cloud over the Christian's future 
 prospects, which seems to lengthen the 
 race he has to run, and to magnify its dif- 
 ficulties ; while the contest in which he is 
 engaged assumes a more arduous and doubt- 
 ful character. It robs him of the time which 
 might otherwise have been employed in re- 
 cruiting his failing streugth, in re-animating 
 his declining energies, in putting on the ar- 
 mour of God ; and iu striving for that crown
 
 LETTERS ON 
 
 of glory which is the goal of his course and 
 the reward of his toil. 
 
 And call to your recollection the par- 
 ticular language which the Scripture em- 
 ploys to describe and enforce this duty of 
 temperance. The teachers of those false 
 and delusive systems which have been de- 
 signed to gain proselytes by gratifying the 
 lusts, rather than by reforming the lives of 
 those who embrace them, have endeavoured 
 to court their favour by flattering their sen- 
 sual imaginations, and yielding to their cor- 
 rupt inclinations ; but " the faithful and the 
 true witness" detests such a surrender to 
 our sinful desires ; he has declared the sa- 
 crifices which are to be offered, even in the 
 mottos which are inscribed on the portals 
 of admission to his kingdom ; and whilst the 
 hand is lifted to knock, the eye beholds in 
 plain and legible characters, " except a man 
 deny himself and take up his cross daily, hu 
 cannot be my disciple." The temperance 
 of the Gospel is not dwindled down, by any 
 soft and insinuating expressions, to a mere 
 nominal virtue ; nor are the mildest terms 
 selected : " We through the spirit arc to
 
 EARIA niSING. 151 
 
 mortify the deeds of the body."* We are 
 called upon " to mortify our members 
 which are upon the earth ;"f " they that 
 are Christ's" are said " to have crucified 
 the flesh with the lusts and affections there- 
 of.'^ This is evidently intended to imply 
 such a complete conquest over the body, 
 such a radical and essential change, as shall 
 subdue and fetter its carnal appetites, and 
 enable the believer to say, " I am crucified 
 to the world, and the world is crucified to 
 me." And can you imagine, my dear 
 Charles, that there are any limits to the 
 extent of this mortification ? that a line of 
 boundary may be drawn, and that all the 
 lusts of the flesh beyond that line may be 
 indulged, while those within it are to be 
 subdued? Depend upon it, the declara- 
 tions of the Gospel know of no such re- 
 strictions ; and if any unrighteous propensity 
 be tolerated, or any carnal appetite che- 
 rished, be assured that insomuch as this is 
 concenied, you are only a " hearer but not 
 a doer of the word.'' 
 
 * Rom. via. IS. t Col. iii. 5. J Galatiaus, v. 24. 
 James, i. 2J.
 
 And consider, my dear friend, the great 
 importance of self denial to a Christian ; 
 the principles which it involves, and the 
 results to which it leads. Read with a 
 serious and fixed attention the numerous 
 passages which enjoin this duty.* " Self- 
 denial of all kinds," says an excellent wri- 
 ter, " is the very life and soul of piety, but 
 he that hath not so much of it as to be 
 early at prayer, cannot think that he has 
 taken up his cross, and is following Christ. 
 What conquest has he got over himself? 
 what right hand has he cut off? what trials 
 is he prepared for ? what sacrifice is he 
 ready to offer to God, who cannot be so 
 cruel to himself as to rise to prayer at such 
 a time as the drudging part of the world 
 are content to rise to their labour ?"f 
 There can be no doubt that self-denial is 
 an important duty, and one with which the 
 Christian cannot dispense : and its privi- 
 leges are as great as its observance is im- 
 perative. You are exhorted " to walk in 
 
 Matt. x. 38 ; xvi. 24. Mark, viii. 34. Luke, u. 23. 
 John, xii. 25. Acts, xiv. 22. 1 Peter, iv. 12. t Law's 
 
 Serious Call.
 
 EARLY RISING. 153 
 
 the spirit, and you shall not fulfil the lusts 
 of the flesh;"* and the victory over these 
 lusts, the not fulfilling them either in word 
 or in deed, affords the most delightful evi- 
 dence that you are really " walking in the 
 spirit." And will you suffer om of these 
 lusts to remain triumphant: 1 will you forego 
 the honour of this conquest ? will you re- 
 linquish the satisfaction resulting from this 
 evidence ? 
 
 I must be permitted before I conclude 
 this already-extended letter, to draw an in- 
 ference as to the impiety which a Christian 
 !> guilty of in indulging the slothful habit 
 of lying late in bed, from the contrast \\ hich 
 the Scriptures present between an uncon- 
 verted and a converted character, and the 
 peculiar terms by which the state of each 
 is described. The former is represented as 
 being sunk into an awful lethargy, a deep 
 deep, a moral stupor, that resembles death ; 
 and the great and important change which 
 is produced by the effectual operation of 
 the influences of the Holy Spirit is de- 
 
 * Galatians, v. 16. 
 
 H 5
 
 154 LETTERS OW 
 
 scribed as waking from this sleep, and a 
 resurrection from this death.* And will 
 you voluntarily relapse into a state so 
 nearly resembling that of nature's dark- 
 ness, whilst Jesus Christ is proclaiming 
 himself to be " the light of the world,"f 
 and is declaring that " he that followeth 
 him shall not walk in darkness, but shall 
 have the light of life?" And will you in- 
 dulge a habit which has furnished the spirit 
 of truth with his most frequent metaphor, 
 to convey a suitable idea of the deadly ef- 
 fects of sin? Oh! rather listen to the aw- 
 ful interrogatory, " What meanest thou, 
 oh t sleeper! arise, call upon thy God;"! 
 attend to the warning voice, " Awake, thou 
 that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and 
 Christ shall give thee light." Know " that 
 it is high time to awake out of sleep, for 
 the night is far spent, the day is at hand : 
 cast off, therefore, the works of darkness, 
 and put on the armour of light." || 
 
 Recollect too the representations which 
 
 * Rom. vi. 13. John, v. 24. Eph. ii. 5 ; v. 14. Co- 
 loss. ii. 13. 1 Peter, ii. 24. t John, viii. 12. J Jonah, 
 i. 6. Eph. v, 14. 1| Rom. xiii. 11. 12.
 
 EARLY RISING. 155 
 
 the word of God has exhibited of the life 
 of the Christian. It is made up of constant 
 exertion. It is a life of vigilance and of 
 war. It is described asjighting, wrestling, 
 striving, and contending in a race. We are 
 emphatically called " children of the day ;" 
 and it is this which is to distinguish us from 
 the world which surrounds us. We are 
 compared to watchful virgins having oil in 
 their lamps ; servants waiting for their 
 Lord's return ; and labourers in a vineyard. 
 The scriptures abound with exhortations to 
 watchfulness;* and our blessed Saviour 
 repeatedly enforced this injunction by the 
 parables which were designed for its illus- 
 tration. And " for yourself," my dear 
 Charles, remember, and " know perfectly, 
 that the day of the Lord so cometh as a 
 thief in the night;" but be " not in darkness, 
 that that day should overtake you as a thief." 
 " You are," I trust, a child " of the light, 
 and a child of the day ;" " we are," neither 
 of us, I hope, " of the night, nor of darkness. 
 
 * Matt. xxir. 42 ; xxv. 13. Mark, xiii. 33, 37. Luke, 
 xxi. 36. Acts, xx. 31. 1 Cor. xvi. 13. 1 Thess. v. 61 
 2 Tim. iv. 5. 1 Peter, iv. 7; v. 8. Rev. xvi. 15.
 
 156 . LETTERS ON 
 
 Therefore let us not sleep as do others, but 
 let us watch and be sober. Let us who 
 are of the day be sober, putting on the 
 breast-plate of truth and love, and for an 
 helmet the hope of salvation. For God 
 hath not appointed us to wrath ; but to 
 obtain salvation by our Lord Jesus Christ ; 
 who died for us, that whether we wake or 
 sleep, we should live together with him." * 
 That we may be amongst those who shall 
 wake to eternal life, after the sleep that 
 must succeed the day of our present ex- 
 istence, is the ardent prayer of 
 
 Your affectionate friend. 
 * 1 Thess. v. 210.
 
 EARLY RISING. 157 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 MY DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 I SAID that it was probable, that 
 there might not be any injunction contained 
 in the word of God, which, in its original 
 application, was designed to enforce the 
 duty of the habit of early rising, or any 
 passage expressly written to reprehend the 
 contrary practice : but I am inclined to 
 think that I was mistaken, and that you 
 will agree with me that there are several 
 parts of Scripture, which directly command 
 the one, and forbid the other. A few of 
 these when brought to your recollection, 
 may tend to confirm the resolutions which 
 you profess to have already formed ; and I 
 am very sanguine in hoping, that if any ar- 
 guments of mine could produce so impor- 
 tant a result, the imperative claims which 
 those I shall now urge must have upon 
 your attention, will completely effect that
 
 158 LETTEUS ON 
 
 change in your future habits which I have 
 so anxiously desired. 
 
 The word of God, whilst it derives its 
 principal value from its exhibiting the way 
 of salvation, and revealing to us the Saviour 
 of sinners, abounds at the same time with 
 moral precepts, which afford the wisest 
 directions for our conduct through life. 
 They who diligently peruse its contents, 
 and sacredly observe its commands, find, by 
 their own experience, that godliness hath 
 both " the promise of this life and of that 
 which is to come." And were the Bible 
 to be regarded only as a code of ethics, an 
 attention to its maxims, and a submission 
 to its rules, would produce a very material 
 change in the manners and habits of man- 
 kind : the happiness of society at large 
 would be increased, and the comfort of 
 each individual would be greatly augment- 
 ed. It directs its censures not only against 
 those vices which carry their own repre- 
 hension with them in their effects upon 
 others, but it also reproves those sins, 
 which, appearing .to be less mischievous in 
 their tendency, are nevertheless productive
 
 EARLY RISING. 159 
 
 of the worst and most injurious conse- 
 quences to those who indulge in their 
 commission. 
 
 Sloth is a sin altogether contrary to the 
 spirit, and inconsistent with the require- 
 ments of the word of truth. How frequently 
 does the wisest of men exhibit this seduc- 
 tive enchantress in all her native deformity! 
 The sluggard is a character which he 
 appears to have resolved to expose, and 
 hold up to its merited contempt. " The 
 soul of the sluggard desireth and hath no- 
 thing, but the soul of the diligent shall be 
 made fat." * " The desire of the slothful 
 killeth him, for his hands refuse to labour."t 
 " The sluggard will not plough by reason of 
 the cold, therefore shall he beg in harvest 
 and have nothing." J " Slothfulness casteth 
 into a deep sleep, and an idle soul shall 
 suffer hunger." Nor are these reprehen- 
 sions confined to Solomon. Idleness was 
 one of the great iniquities charged against 
 Sodom : " Behold this was the iniquity of 
 thy sister Sodom, pride, fulness of bread, 
 
 * Prov. xiii. 4. f Prov. xxi. ^5. J Pruv. xx. 4. 
 4 Prov. xix. 15.
 
 160 LETTERS ON 
 
 and abundance of idleness was in her, and 
 in her daughters."* How sharply does 
 Paul reprove this sin when he reminds the 
 Thessalonians, " that when he was with 
 them, this he commanded them, that if any 
 would not work, neither should he eat ;" *|- 
 and he treats them as being unfit for Chris- 
 tian society : and part of his advice to the 
 Romans is, " not slothful in business, fer- 
 vent in spirit, serving the Lord :" $ whilst 
 in his epistle to the Hebrews he exhorts 
 them, " that they be not slothful, but fol- 
 lowers of them who through faith and 
 patience inherit the promises." 
 
 And what more distinguishing charac- 
 teristic can be discovered in the sluggard 
 than his indulgence in sleep ? " How long 
 wilt thou sleep, oh! sluggard? a little 
 slumber, a little folding of the hands to 
 sleep: so shall thy poverty come as one 
 that travelled), and thy want as an armed 
 man." || "Asa door turneth upon its 
 hinges, so doth the slothful upon his bed. 
 The slothful hideth his hand in his bosom, 
 
 * Eaek. XTU 49. t 2 Thess. Ui. 10. J Rom. 
 
 1L 11. $ Heb, vL 12. || Prov. vi, 9, 10, 11.
 
 EARLY RISING. 161 
 
 it grieveth him to bring it again to his 
 mouth."* And at last his judgment be- 
 comes so depraved by the influence of 
 sloth, that he is even not ashamed to ad- 
 vocate its cause : the sluggard is wiser in 
 his own conceit, than seven men that can 
 render a reason ."t Listen again to the 
 warning voice of Solomon ; " love not sleep, 
 lest thou come to poverty : open thine eyes, 
 and thou shalt be satisfied with bread." $ 
 The love of slumber was one of the awful 
 charges laid against the watchmen of Israel : 
 " they were blind, they were all ignorant, 
 they were all dumb dogs, they could not 
 bark; sleeping, lying down, loving to 
 
 SLUMBER."^ 
 
 The word of God very frequently en- 
 forces the value of time. The numerous 
 allusions which it contains to the brevity of 
 life, and the many instances in which it 
 endeavours, from this consideration, to im- 
 press upon the mind of the, reader the ne- 
 cessity of an immediate attention to the most 
 important of all concerns, the salvation of 
 
 Prov. xivi. 14, 15. t ProT. xxvi, 16. J Prov. 
 xx. 13. $ baiah.lvi. 10.
 
 162 LETTERS ON 
 
 his soul, afford repeated proofs of the design 
 of the holy spirit in dictating such passages. 
 Their constant inquiry is, if properly ap- 
 plied, " why stand ye here all the day 
 idle ? " * and their command, " whatsoever 
 thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, 
 for there is no work, nor device, nor know- 
 ledge, nor wisdom in the grave, whither 
 thou goest."t It was the declaration of 
 our great master and guide, " I must work 
 the works of him that sent me while it is 
 day ; the night cometh when no man can 
 work." | Paul, in his epistle to the Ephe- 
 sians, makes the proper employment of 
 time, and the seizing it, as it were, from 
 every thing that would unnecessarily occupy 
 it, the distinguishing mark between the wise 
 and fools : " see then that ye walk cir- 
 cumspectly, not as fools, but as wise;- 
 redeeming the time, because the days are 
 evil : wherefore be ye not unwise, but un- 
 derstanding what the will of the Lord is." 
 And again, " walk in wisdom toward them 
 that are without, redeeming the time." \\ 
 
 * Matt. xx. 6. t Eccl. ix. 10. J John, "u. 1. 
 
 Eph. v. 15, 16, 17. || Col. iv. 5.
 
 EARLY RISING. 165 
 
 There are frequent allusions in the sa- 
 cred writings to the morning, and we find 
 that many very important events in the 
 lives of several individuals occurred in the 
 early part of the day. It was early in 
 the morning that Lot left the fatal city 
 which was soon to be destroyed. " And 
 when the morning arose, then the angels 
 hastened Lot, saying, arise, take thy wife, 
 and thy two daughters which are here, lest 
 thou be consumed in the iniquity of the 
 city. And while he lingered the men laid 
 hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of 
 his wife, and upon the hand of his two 
 daughters; the Lord being merciful unto 
 him, and they brought him forth and set 
 him without the city."* It was early in 
 the morning that Isaac and a neighbouring 
 king " sware one to another." " They rose 
 up betimes in the morning."t It was early 
 in the morning that Jacob rose after he was 
 favoured with the heavenly vision on his 
 road to Haran. " And Jacob rose up 
 early in the morning." J It was early in 
 the morning that Moses was commanded 
 * Geu, xix. 15, 16. t Gen. xxvi. 31. jGeii. xxviii. 18.
 
 164 LETTERS ON 
 
 to deliver his important message to Pha- 
 roah. " And the Lord said unto Moses, 
 rise up early in the morning, and stand be- 
 fore Pharoah, (lo ! he cotneth forth to the 
 water,) and say unto him, thus saith the 
 Lord ; let my people go that they may 
 serve me." * It was early in the morning 
 that the Lord appeared for the deliverance 
 of Israel, and destroyed the Egyptians who 
 pursued them. " And it came to pass that 
 in the morning watch the Lord looked unto 
 the host of the Egyptians through the pil- 
 lar of fire, and of the cloud, and troubled 
 the host of the Egyptians." f It was early 
 in the morning that the manna was to be 
 gathered by the Israelites. J It was early 
 in the morning that the symbols of idolatry 
 were discovered to have been removed by 
 Gideon, for " when the men of the city 
 rose early in the morning, behold the altar 
 of Baal was cast down, and the grove was 
 cut down that was by it, and the second 
 bullock was offered upon the altar that was 
 built." It was-early in the morning that 
 
 Exod. riii. 80 ; ix. 13. t Exod, xiv. 24. $ Exod. 
 xvi. $ Judges, TI. 28.
 
 EARLY RISING. 165 
 
 Darius repaired to Daniel to see " if the 
 living God was able to deliver his servant 
 from the lions." " Then the king arose 
 very early in the morning, and went in 
 haste unto the den of lions."* It was early 
 in the morning that the anxious Marys re- 
 sorted to the tomb of their risen Lord. 
 " In the end of the sabbath, as it began to 
 dawn, towards the first day of the week, 
 came Mary Magdalene, and the other 
 Mary, to the sepulchre." -f- It was " very 
 early in the morning at the rising of the 
 sun" | " early, when it was yet dark." 
 
 There are many allusions in the sacred 
 Scriptures to the early part of the day, 
 which should serve to invest it with addi- 
 tional interest. Job, when reflecting on the 
 utter worthlessness of man, inquires, " what 
 is man that thou shouldst magnify him, and 
 that thou shouldst set thy heart upon him ? 
 And that thou shouldst visit him every 
 morning ?" || Jeremiah says, " it is of the 
 Lord's mercies we are not consumed, be- 
 cause his compassions fail not, they are 
 
 * Dan. vi. 19. t Matt, jxviii. 1. J Mark, xvi. 2; Luke, 
 xxiv. 1 ; John, xx. 1. $ John, xx. 1. || Job. vii. 17, 18.
 
 new every morning."* David refers to this 
 period, as being a season of peculiar hap- 
 piness. " His anger endureth but a mo- 
 ment ; in his favour is life ; -weeping may 
 endure for a night, but joy cometh in the 
 morning"-^ Isaiah thus alludes to the 
 morning : " The Lord hath given me the 
 tongue of the learned, that I should know 
 how to speak a word in season to him that 
 is weary ; he wakeneth morning by morn- 
 ing ; he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the 
 learned."^; The prophet Hosea compares 
 the advance of the Lord to this period. 
 " Then shall we know if we follow on to 
 know the Lord ; his going forth is prepared 
 as the morning." 
 
 The morning is frequently employed as 
 a simile by the sacred writers. The pro- 
 mise made to Job, on his " preparing bis 
 heart and stretching out his hand to God," 
 was, that " his age should be clearer than 
 the noon day ; he should shine forth, he 
 should be as the morning." || The promise 
 to repenting Israel is, " Then shall the 
 
 * Lam. lii. 22, 23. t Psalms, xxx. 5. t Isaiah, 
 1. 4. Hosea, vi. 3. \\ Job, xi. 17.
 
 EAKLY RISING. 167 
 
 light break forth as the morning, and thy 
 health shall spring forth speedily."* The 
 promise to him that overcometh and keep- 
 eth his works unto the end, is, " that to 
 him shall be given the morning star,"^ and 
 the great Alpha and Omega, the beginning 
 and the end, the first and the last, de- 
 clares that he is " the bright and morning 
 star."$ 
 
 Consider, my dear Charles, the long 
 train of examples which holy writ records, 
 of the practice of the habit of early rising. 
 Can I say more to recommend it, than that 
 it has been approved and followed by pa- 
 triarchs, prophets, and kings ? has been re- 
 commended by a Solomon, and enforced 
 by the example of a greater than Solomon? 
 Abraham " got up early in the morning ." 
 Isaac rose up " betimes in the morning." || 
 Jacob " rose up early in the morning."^ 
 Labau " rose up early in the morning."** 
 Moses " rose up early in the morning." ft 
 
 * Isaiah, IviiL 8. t Rev. ii. 28. J Hev. xxii. 16. 
 $ Gen. xix. 27 j xxi. 14 ; xxii. 3. || Gen. xxvi. 31. f Gen, 
 xxviii. 18. ** Gen. xxxi. 65. tt Exod. xxiv. 4; xxxiv. 4.
 
 168 LETTERS ON 
 
 Job rose up early in the morning, and "thus 
 did he continually." * Gideon " rose up 
 early in the morning." t Joshua " rose early 
 in the morning."! Samuel " rose early to 
 meet Saul in the morning." David " rose 
 up early in the morning." || Jeremiah con- 
 tinued in the habit of " rising early and 
 speaking" for twenty-three years.f Nehe- 
 miah and his fellow-labourers " laboured 
 from the rising of the morning till the stars 
 appeared."** And our blessed Saviour is 
 represented as having risen early, affording 
 a practical illustration of his own precept, 
 " work whilst it is day." It was " at the 
 break of day that he called to him his dis- 
 ciples, and chose of them twelve, whom he 
 called apostles." ft It was " early in the 
 morning that the people came to him in the 
 temple to hear him." ^f " It was early in 
 the morning that Jesus came into the temple 
 
 Job. i. 5. t Judges, vi. 28, 38. J Joshua, iii 1 ; 
 TJ. 12; vil 16; viii. 10. 1 Sam. a. 26; xv. If. 
 || 1 Sam. xvii. 20. Psalms, T. 3; lv. 17 ; !ii. 16; buxviii. 
 13. xdi. 1.2; cxir. 147 ; cxffii. 8. 5 Jer. xxv. 3; vii. 
 13. * Nehem. iv. 21. tt Luke, vi. 13. tf Luke, 
 xii. 38.
 
 EARLY RISING. 169 
 
 and all the people came unto him :"* and 
 it was " in the morning, a great while be- 
 fore day, that he went out to a solitary place 
 to pray."f 
 
 I will not add any observations of my 
 own in addition to these scriptural illustra- 
 tions and examples : " Go thou, and do 
 likewise." 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 * John, viii. 2. t Mark, i. 35.
 
 170 LETTERS OW 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 MY DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 WHATEVER may have been the 
 opinion you once entertained respecting the 
 effects which religion is calculated to pro- 
 duce upon the mind, and whatever false 
 notions you may have formerly imbibed as 
 to its tendency to lead to a state of mental 
 dejection ; you have long since abandoned 
 these mistaken sentiments, and have been 
 enabled to refute the aspersion, whenever 
 it has been cast by others on the truths 
 which you now hold so dear, by a refe- 
 rence to your own experience, and an appeal 
 to your personal knowledge. Though I 
 may not know all the varied feelings which 
 have attended your Christian course, nor 
 be acquainted with the alternate hopes and 
 fears which have brightened or clouded 
 your prospects ; yet I have every reason to 
 believe that you have not been altogether a
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 stranger to that " peace which passeth all 
 understanding;" and that you have ha- 
 bitually (though, perhaps, not uninterrup- 
 tedly,) enjoyed that calm and rational com- 
 placency, which can only result from the 
 soul's reposing itself on its God; and which 
 is perpetuated by the vivid apprehension of 
 that in him, which is truly delectable and 
 pleasing to us, leading the soul to such an 
 estimation of the perfections of the object 
 of its admiration, and to so ardent an affec- 
 tion for the Father of all its mercies, as 
 have rendered the recollection of former 
 enjoyments derived from temporal objects, 
 and former pleasures resulting from inferior 
 employments, a source of unfeigned re- 
 pentance, and a cause for self-accusation 
 and surprise. " Wisdom's ways are," in- 
 deed, " ways of pleasantness, and her paths 
 are/' indeed, " paths of peace." The joys 
 of piety are such as those only know, who 
 have drank at the fountain of life from 
 whence they issue; the blessings which she 
 bestows are not scattered around her with 
 a heedless profusion : and whilst their re- 
 ality is denied by some, and a participation
 
 172 LETTERS ON 
 
 in them claimed by others, who have never 
 experienced them ; the humble disciple of 
 the meek and lowly Jesus, appearing to the 
 world to be bending beneath a cross which 
 he can scarcely sustain, and the weight of 
 which they are willing to increase by the 
 obloquy they affix to his conduct, treads 
 in the footsteps of his Master, follows him 
 " through evil and through good report" 
 on earth ; and fixing the eye of faith upon 
 him who has been " made perfect through 
 sufferings," and who, " though crucified 
 through weakness, yet liveth by the power 
 of God,"* rejoices in the exaltation of 
 his ascended Lord, and exults in the pros- 
 pect of the fulfilment of the promise, that 
 " where he is, there shall his servants be 
 also."f The world may witness the self- 
 denial that a firm belief in the doctrines of 
 the Gospel produces, but they cannot read 
 the hearts of those who practise it. They 
 may see and despise the cross that is taken 
 up, but they are ignorant of the crown that 
 is to succeed. They may distinguish some 
 
 2 Cor. xui. 4. t John, xiL 26.
 
 EARLY RISING. 173 
 
 of the thorns that strew the pilgrim's road, 
 but they know not the pilgrim's happiness, 
 when his heart is overflowing with love and 
 tenderness, on the recollection that the 
 thorns which now may wound his feet, once 
 pierced his Saviour's head. They have yet 
 to learn, that we have "joys which a 
 stranger intermeddleth not with;"* that 
 we have delights which they do not envy, 
 because they cannot feel ; and that the re- 
 ligion which we profess, and the Gospel we 
 embrace, impart a high-raised hope and an 
 exulting anticipation, a present happiness, 
 and an assurance of future glory, which, 
 contrasted with their groveling pursuits 
 and misnamed pleasures, make them shrink 
 into worse than nothingness, into a hideous- 
 ness and deformity, which the light of truth 
 alone could reveal. 
 
 The mortification and self-denial of the 
 Christian are a voluntary obedience paid to 
 the commands of him, whom he considers 
 it his highest honour to serve. His sub- 
 mission to his authority, and his compliance 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 10.
 
 174 LETTERS ON 
 
 with his will, are not the constrained sub- 
 jection of one who only wants the power to 
 break off the yoke, but the spontaneous 
 acts of what he feels to be " a reasonable 
 service." Whilst he often " sows in tears," 
 he knows that he shall eternally " reap in 
 joy." It is not merely his privilege to be 
 permitted to participate in the pleasures of 
 devotion, but the enjoyment of them forms 
 part of the exhortations contained in the 
 sacred writings. " Rejoice evermore."* 
 " Rejoice in the Lord alway, and again I 
 say, rejoice."1* Indeed the very feelings 
 which religious worship inspires, are neces- 
 sarily connected with spiritual delight. Can 
 there be any emotions more conducive to 
 our happiness than such as the generous af- 
 fections of gratitude excite ? And who has 
 such cause for gratitude as the Christian : 
 How delightful is that utterance of the 
 sentiments of the heart which accompanies 
 praise, when he contemplates the glories of 
 the divine Being, as exhibited in the traces 
 of his footsteps in nature, and displayed in 
 
 1 Thess. r. 16. t Ptolip. iv. 4.
 
 EARLY RISING. 175 
 
 the perfection of his attributes in Revela- 
 tion. How pleasing are those acknowledg- 
 ments of obligation, and expressions of 
 thankfulness, which are produced by the 
 recollections of his dependence upon the 
 Father of all his mercies, and by reflecting 
 on the compassion of his Saviour, " who, 
 though he was rich, yet, for his sake, be- 
 came poor, that he through his poverty 
 might be made rich." 
 
 Are you inclined to ask me, my dear 
 Charles, how far these remarks are relevant 
 to the subject of our present correspon- 
 dence ? If you put such a question, 1 am 
 satisfied that the doubt can only originate 
 from an ignorance of the peculiar feelings 
 which the Christian experiences in the early 
 part of the day. If there be any time es- 
 pecially favourable to devotional exercises, 
 and particularly calculated to excite senti- 
 ments of praise, it is in the morning. I 
 have already alluded to the effect which 
 early rising has upon the body, and the 
 consequent elasticity of mind which it oc- 
 casions : and it is one of the exclusive pri-
 
 vileges of the Christian, to render the tem- 
 porary feelings which circumstances pro- 
 duce, subservient to the great and important 
 interests of his eternal welfare. Is he de- 
 pressed and dejected ? He can yield to the 
 emotions of his grief, by turning his sor- 
 rows into the channel of repentance for his 
 sins, and contrition for his guilt. Is his 
 mind elated, are his anticipations bright, 
 his hopes high-raised, his prospects pleas- 
 ing? He can employ these elevated feel- 
 ings in thankfulness for the mercies which 
 he has received, and the blessings of which 
 he has been made a partaker. It is thus 
 that he fulfils the command, to " do all to 
 the glory of God;" and thus he converts 
 even the variations of his disposition, into 
 opportunities for rendering homage to his 
 Maker. 
 
 But remember, my dear Charles, that 
 independent of the solid and immediate sa- 
 tisfaction that results from the appropria- 
 tion of the early part of the day to the ser- 
 vice of God, there are advantages connected 
 with it of more permanent duration, and
 
 EARLY KIS1NG. 177 
 
 more general benefit. By directing the 
 first thoughts of the mind,* and reverently 
 and thankfully lifting up the heart to him, 
 who has preserved you through the hours 
 of darkness, and permitted you to behold 
 the returning light : by committing yourself 
 to the care and protection of that watchful 
 Being amidst the snares and temptations 
 of the day, who has been your guardian 
 through the dangers of the night ; and by 
 so habituating yourself to this early act of 
 devotion, that your conscience will check 
 you, should worldly thoughts intrude, and 
 claim the " first fruits" of your morning 
 meditations ; you will prepare your mind 
 for the performance of those duties which 
 are to succeed, and will commence with 
 that " fear of the Lord" which will attend 
 you " all the day long."f The current of 
 thought will retain that peculiar colour with 
 
 * The most excellent Bishop Ken used to follow the 
 practice of rising immediately on awaking from Lis first 
 sleep, and taking his lute as an accompaniment to his voice, 
 he commenced his devotions with a solemn hymn of 
 praise. 
 
 t Pror. xxiii. 17. 
 
 15
 
 178 LETTERS ON 
 
 which it was tinged at its source ; and will 
 continue to flow in the same channel when 
 far removed from the spring which gave it 
 its first direction. And to you, my dear 
 friend, who have so often lamented the in- 
 disposition to the duties and the pleasures 
 of religion which your worldly engagements 
 have produced ; whose pursuit of secular 
 objects has often been attended with the 
 suspicion that each advance towards their 
 attainment, might be a retrogression from 
 those of infinitely greater moment; and 
 whose heart, when gladdening at success, 
 has shuddered with the fear, lest it might be 
 attempting to " serve two masters :" to you 
 the dedication of the morning hours to the 
 great concerns of your soul, is of unspeak- 
 able importance. You have often antici- 
 pated with delight the approach of the Sab- 
 bath, knowing, from past experience, its 
 tendency to wean your affections from 
 earth, and to lead them " to those things 
 which are above, where Christ sitteth on 
 the right hand of God."* And why will 
 
 * Coloss. iii. 1.
 
 EARLY RISING. 179 
 
 you not make each morning of your life the 
 Sabbath of the day ? Why may not the un- 
 due attachment to the world which the pre- 
 ceding day has produced, be then overcome; 
 and a preservative secured against the temp- 
 tations of that which is approaching ? And 
 instead of mourning over your departures 
 from God, " dragging at each remove a 
 lengthening chain," which though it pre- 
 vents your total separation, marks, by its 
 extent, your lamentable distance from the 
 object of your better love, and source of 
 your real enjoyments ; why will you not be 
 daily drawn " with cords of a man, with 
 bands of love" nearer to that " rock of 
 ages" which is " higher than you," from 
 which you can never be driven by the " pi- 
 tiless storms" of the world, nor allured by 
 its deceitful calm ? 
 
 And let me intreat you, my dear young 
 friend, to watch with a most jealous eye 
 every inclination that you feel, and every 
 desire that you discover, to relapse again to 
 that world, from which you have, I hope, 
 been called to " come out," and to be " se- 
 parate." Remember that your Christian life
 
 180 LETTERS OR 
 
 should be one continued effort to advance 
 against the stream of sensual gratifications 
 and carnal indulgences; and, therefore, if 
 you suffer an intermission in your exertions, 
 you will not remain stationary at the point 
 already gained, but you will be carried more 
 rapidly do\vn by your ease, than you ad- 
 vanced by your labour. The symptoms of 
 a declension in religion, and of spiritual de- 
 cay, are such as can leave no doubt of the 
 existence of the malady when once it has 
 attacked you ; and you will do well to resort 
 immediately to those remedies which may 
 check its advance, before it has seized upon 
 the very vitals of Christianity. If you are 
 conscious of a neglect of those things which 
 relate to your everlasting peace, a disregard 
 of divine objects, a remissness in your at- 
 tention to those duties which are essential 
 to the character you have assumed, and a 
 distaste for the acts of private and social 
 worship, which formerly constituted your 
 highest enjoyments ; you may be assured 
 that an attachment to sensual pleasures will 
 soon ensue, and the world will acquire an in- 
 fluence over you, altogether inconsistent with
 
 EARLY RISING. 181 
 
 your profession, and opposed to your hap- 
 piness. You will be indifferent to the very 
 means which are calculated to correct your 
 error, and to lead you back to God. Prayer 
 will be omitted : the Scriptures will be slight- 
 ed : the secret devotions of the closet will be 
 discontinued ; and self-examination will be 
 disused. Oh ! what will be your bitter re- 
 pentance, when, returning like a wandering 
 sheep " to the shepherd and bishop of your 
 soul," you reflect on how many successive 
 pages of your Bible may be written " un- 
 read :" for how long a space of time may be 
 inscribed on a throne of grace, " unfre- 
 quented ;" the spirit, " grieved ;" and God 
 unsought. 
 
 And if, with that salutary apprehension 
 A\ Inch will lead you " to work out your 
 own salvation with fear and trembling," you 
 dread a relapse into such a state; as you 
 value your immortal soul, as you prize its 
 eternal interests, and as you appreciate the 
 importance of its present happiness and its 
 future destiny; secure, my dear Charles, 
 oh! secure the opportunities which the 
 morning affords you, of attending to those
 
 182 
 
 duties in the closet, which, with the accom- 
 panying blessing of God, shall effectually 
 prevent your spiritual decay. It is then 
 that you should present your petitions to 
 the throne of grace; that you should im- 
 plore divine assistance to enable you to 
 perform the duties that may devolve upon 
 you, and to resist the temptations that may 
 assail you through the coming day ; that you 
 should supplicate the blessing of God upon 
 those undertakings in which you are to be 
 engaged ; that you should look up to " the 
 Father of lights, with whom is no variable- 
 ness, neither shadow of turning, for every 
 good and every perfect gift you need ;"* it 
 is then that you should " ask of God, that 
 giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth 
 not," for " that wisdom which you lack," 
 and " it shall be given you ;"f a wisdom 
 which shall teach you the line of conduct 
 you should pursue, shall tell you the oppor- 
 tunities you should improve, warn you of 
 the dangers you should shun, caution you 
 against the temptations you should resist, 
 
 James, i. 17. t Ibid. i. 5.
 
 EARLY RISING. 185 
 
 and inspire you with the disposition and 
 temper you should manifest in your in- 
 tercourse with the world, so that " your 
 conversation may in all things " be as be- 
 cometh the Gospel of Christ."* 
 
 It is during the leisure and stillness of 
 morning too, that the best opportunity will 
 be afforded to " search the Scriptures." 
 It is then that you will be enabled, not 
 merely to read them, but to make them the 
 very food of your soul ; " to mark, learn, 
 and inwardly digest them ;" to " meditate 
 on the word in the word ;"{ to examine the 
 Bible as the chart by which you are to 
 steer, and by the aid of which, in your 
 voyage through life, you are to avoid the 
 rocks and quicksands with which this dan- 
 gerous sea abounds ; to regard the sacred 
 volume as the charter by which you hold 
 your present possessions, and secure your 
 future inheritance. And whilst you pro- 
 perly estimate the value of that revelation of 
 the divine will which the word of God con- 
 tains, considering the Scriptures as the 
 
 * Phil. i. 27. t Owci).
 
 184 LETTERS ON 
 
 manifestation of his goodness, justice, mercy, 
 and truth 5 of the holiness of his law, and 
 the spirituality of his commands; of the 
 compassion of the Saviour ; the duties and 
 privileges of believers, and the glories of 
 heaven : whilst you thus estimate the word 
 of truth, you will be daily more and more 
 convinced of the importance of its frequent 
 perusal, and the necessity of its repeated 
 study. 
 
 The mere habit of reading the Scrip- 
 tures, is not, in itself, sufficient to produce 
 those good effects which you are desirous 
 should result from it, but it must be ac- 
 companied with earnest prayer to God 
 for the enlightening influences of his Holy 
 Spirit; and the truths which are contained 
 in them must be personally applied to your 
 peculiar circumstances, and individual feel- 
 ings. But such an application cannot be 
 made, if they are perused in a cursory and 
 inattentive manner. A considerable portion 
 of time is requisite for this employment; 
 but the benefits to be derived from it are 
 amply commensurate, both in number and 
 magnitude, with the hours which are so
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 occupied, and the attention that is thus be- 
 stowed. If you wish to experience^ to the 
 full extent, the advantages which such a 
 perusal of the word of God affords, you 
 must exercise a close and diligent self- 
 examination. You must consider what con- 
 nection there is between the truths which it 
 contains, and the actual feelings of your 
 own heart. You must take it as a candle 
 with which to search the dark " chambers 
 of imagery" of your secret thoughts ; and 
 as you discover idol after idol not thrown 
 down, you must resolve, in the divine 
 strength, " to bring into captivity every 
 thought to the obedience of Christ."* You 
 must regard " the truth as it is in Jesus" as 
 being only valuable to you, in proportion as 
 it is reflected in your own life and character. 
 You must make the word of God the mir- 
 ror in which you are to view yourself, nor 
 must you leave it satisfied with a rapid 
 glance, " straightway forgetting what man- 
 ner of man you were ;"f but you must en- 
 deavour to discover every defect ; you must 
 
 * 2 Car. x, 5. t James, i. 24.
 
 186 tETTERS ON 
 
 observe every mark of carelessness and in- 
 attention ; nor must you rest contented with 
 any thing short of the removal of the one, 
 and the correction of the other. 
 
 And recollect, my dear Charles, that as 
 a soldier of Jesus Christ, you have an ar- 
 duous contest in which you must be en- 
 gaged, and a warfare which you must con- 
 stantly wage against the most subtile and 
 undaunted foe. Each day becomes an 
 arena in which you must fight the battles of 
 the Lord ; and will you rush into the field 
 of action undefended and unarmed? You 
 are exhorted " to put on the whole armour 
 of God,"* to have " your loins girt about 
 with truth ; to have on the breast-plate of 
 righteousness ; your feet shod with the pre- 
 paration of the gospel of peace ; and above 
 all, to take the shield of faith, wherewith 
 you shall be able to quench all the fiery 
 darts of the wicked one ; to take the helmet 
 of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, 
 which is the word of God." It is by the 
 diligent perusal of the Scriptures, by prayer 
 
 * ph. vi. 13.
 
 EAM.Y RISING. 187 
 
 and by meditation, that we keep our chris- 
 tian armour bright and ready. It is in the 
 morning, before the conflict has commenced, 
 that you will have leisure to " put it on/' to 
 arrange every part, to equip yourself so as 
 to leave no place unguarded. And will you 
 venture to meet your wily adversary with- 
 out this previous preparation ? will you not 
 allow yourself time to adjust your armour ? 
 will you take the shield, whilst your head is 
 left undefended, or your feet entangled by 
 your loins being ungirt ? will you cover your 
 head with the helmet, but omit the breast- 
 plate, exposing the very vitals of Christi- 
 anity to the assault of the foe ? or will you 
 be satisfied with clothing yourself in the 
 " whole armour," deeming that sufficient to 
 secure you ; and stand inactive, without a 
 weapon to attack, without the sword to 
 repel and to overcome your adversary ? 
 
 And you will not only do well thus to 
 prepare yourself for the fight, but also to 
 survey the field of battle on which you are 
 to engage ; and to watch the previous move- 
 ments of the foes with whom you are to 
 contend. Ascend the hill of morning, and
 
 188 LETTERS ON 
 
 thence survey the plain that lies beneath 
 you. It commands a view so ample, and an 
 extent so wide, that you may discern be- 
 tween the point of vision and the horizon 
 that bounds your prospect, every enemy 
 that will oppose you. Mark their positions : 
 see where they are forming their ambus- 
 cades; where planting their batteries ; and 
 where marshalling their forces. It is thus 
 you will defeat their designs : by anticipat- 
 ing their movements you will be prepared 
 to render them unavailing : and when the 
 great enemy of souls assaults you, where he 
 imagines you are weakest, and brings his 
 strongest temptations, and employs his most 
 subtile wiles ; you will be able triumphant- 
 ly to overthrow his purposes, and subvert 
 Ids efforts, because " you were not ignorant 
 of his devices." 
 
 Yours, with sincere affection ,
 
 EARLY RISING. 189 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 MY DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 DID I not know the tyrannical 
 nature of the habit of lying late in bed, and 
 that it overcomes every consideration of 
 Christian duty and Christian privilege, I 
 could not believe that you would suffer 
 yourself to be deprived by it of any part of 
 that valuable day, which should be more 
 particularly occupied by religious exercises. 
 And if I wished, in addition to those .argu- 
 ments which I have already urged, to ad- 
 vance one that should be more convincing 
 and conclusive than the rest, I scarcely 
 know whether I could avail myself of a 
 stronger, to prove the pernicious nature of 
 this slothful custom, than by a reference to 
 the melancholy fact, that it not only makes 
 its inroads upon your time, which is always 
 precious, and interferes with those employ-
 
 190 LETTERS ON 
 
 meats which ordinarily engage your atten- 
 tion ; that it not only robs you through the 
 week of opportunities for improvement and 
 usefulness, but that it even stretches forth 
 its sacrilegious hand, and lays it upon the 
 ark of that solemn and interesting period, 
 which the Creator of the world hallowed 
 and blessed, which our Saviour consecrated 
 by the completion of the great work of 
 salvation on his resurrection from the dead, 
 and which the Holy Spirit distinguished by 
 his descent upon the early disciples of our 
 Lord. 
 
 Need I remind you of the peculiar value 
 of the SABBATH ? of its importance to you 
 particularly, whose engagements in the 
 world are so calculated to wean your af- 
 fections from those things which alone can 
 really deserve them, and thus, instead of 
 your treasure and your heart being both in 
 heaven, leading you to seek for the one, and 
 consequently to set the affections of the 
 other, upon earth ? of the peculiar benefit 
 resulting from that withdrawment from your 
 secular pursuits, that freedom from anxiety 
 about your temporal concerns, and that re-
 
 EARLY RISING. 191 
 
 linquishment of your worldly business which 
 this day affords ? of the advantage which 
 springs from your views being then less 
 bounded, your prospects more extended, 
 your passions disenthralled from the cor- 
 rupting influence which has enslaved them 
 through the week, and your hopes, unfet- 
 tered by the delusive but enchanting pro- 
 mise of earthly prosperity, " full of immor- 
 tality ?" Need I recal to your recollection 
 the beneficial effects which flow from the 
 occupations of this day? The perusal of 
 the word of God, the contemplation of his 
 glorious attributes, meditation on his divine 
 perfections, a personal application of scrip- 
 ture truth, earnest supplication at a throne 
 of grace, and an attendance on the public 
 service of the sanctuary ? These, my dear 
 Charles, are the employments peculiarly 
 suited for the sabbath, and a few of the pri- 
 vileges connected with them ; and can you 
 conscientiously neglect the obligation of 
 observing the former, or will you volun- 
 tarily relinquish the happiness of partici- 
 pating in the latter ?
 
 192 LETTERS ON 
 
 It is true, my dear friend, that this is a 
 day of " rest," but it is a rest with which 
 sloth is altogether at variance ; it has all the 
 spirituality of the one, without any of the 
 carnality of the other. And whilst a dili- 
 gent attention to the duties of the sabbath 
 will justify the appellation, and will afford 
 to the Christian a foretaste of that " rest 
 which remaineth for the people of God;" 
 a criminal neglect of those duties, and an 
 indulgence in the sinful propensities of the 
 flesh, instead of imparting the refreshment, 
 and bestowing the vigour that are required 
 will rob the mind of those energies, and the 
 spirit of that daring, which are necessary to 
 support and animate the Christian in the 
 constant warfare in which he is engaged. 
 
 And if the sabbath is indeed so precious, 
 if it is of so much importance, and is able, - 
 when properly employed, to produce such 
 beneficial effects, how great must be your 
 folly and criminality, if you are not anxious 
 to secure as much of such a valuable sea- 
 son as lies within your reach ! The neglect 
 of this argues either a total insensibility to
 
 EARLY RISING. 193 
 
 its importance, or a very inadequate con- 
 ception of its value. Will you suffer the 
 world to engage six times as large a portion 
 of your thoughts as the infinitely more im- 
 portant concerns of your soul; and even 
 diminish, by a surrender to a sensual in- 
 dulgence, the length of that period which 
 you professedly snatch from the world ? 
 
 If it is incumbent on you as a Christian, 
 to begin every returning day by a solemn 
 dedication of yourself to God, a thankful 
 acknowledgment of his preserving and pro- 
 tecting mercy, and an earnest entreaty for 
 the continuance of his favours, what pecu- 
 liarly strong reasons have you for such a 
 commencement of the sabbath. The mo- 
 tives to gratitude which on other days may 
 appear of a more ordinary nature, should 
 then assume a stronger and more influential 
 force. The Christian has reason to value 
 each successive sabbath as a blessing pro- 
 ceeding immediately from his " Father who 
 is in heaven," who, by its appointment, af- 
 fords him at once a proof of his continued 
 love, and an opportunity to attend to those
 
 194 LETTERS ON 
 
 devotional exercises which produce in his 
 breast a willing, though faint return of a 
 similar principle. And whilst the great 
 and eternal Father, and the Son of his love 
 invite, will you refuse to hear ? Whilst the 
 Holy Spirit is soliciting your attention, and 
 " waiting to be gracious/' will you act as 
 you did in that state of awful darkness, 
 when the sabbath was " a weariness, and 
 your soul took no pleasure in it?" 
 
 It is in the early part of this hallowed 
 day, that you may experience some of the 
 purest pleasures and highest enjoyments 
 which devotion is capable of affording. 
 You may remember seasons when the mind 
 required to be forced to an attention to the 
 great and important realities of religion, 
 and when you have been obliged, by an 
 effort, as it were, to raise it above the 
 vanities of the world. But now it volun- 
 tarily rises* towards heaven ; it has already 
 left the earth ; its flight is directed upwards, 
 and you may continue it to the throne of the 
 great Eternal himself. It is at such a time 
 as this that you are indeed " led by the
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 Spirit;" that the slightest influence is suf- 
 ficiently powerful to draw you where it 
 wills ; that the least insinuation, and the 
 gentlest impulse are effectual. It is then 
 that his almost unexpected gales waft the 
 spirit along the channel of divine love to the 
 great object of its affections, " the chief 
 among ten thousand, and the altogether 
 lovely." It is at such an hour as this that 
 a solemnity fills the mind, which robs the 
 delusions of the world of their deceitful 
 hue } which leads it to look back upon its 
 brightest visionary scenes of anticipated 
 temporal enjoyment as the day dreams of a 
 disordered imagination, and to contemplate 
 their future realization with a complete and 
 unanxious indifference ; and which unfolds 
 the glories of eternity in so overwhelming a 
 manner, that even the most engaging objects 
 of time and sense, form no part of the ex- 
 tended prospect which enraptures the men- 
 tal vision. It is at such a period as this 
 that you no longer mourn in the valley of 
 humiliation, whilst " he whom your soul 
 loveth" denies his cheering and animating
 
 196 LETTERS ON 
 
 presence; but, improving and complying 
 with the internal impulse which prompts 
 you to the exercises of prayer and praise, 
 your faith ascends like an eagle* towards 
 the skies, raises her mighty crest, and soar- 
 ing towards the glorious " Sun of Righ- 
 teousness," who is rising " with healing on 
 his wings," purges and unseals at the foun- 
 tain of heavenly radiance itself, those orbs 
 which the darkness of her lower residence 
 had obscured, whilst the flocking doubts 
 and timorous fears that love the twilight, 
 flutter around, amazed at what she means, 
 abashed by her daring, and confounded by 
 the height she has attained. It is then that 
 
 " The soul, 
 
 Snatch'd by the spirit's power from its cell 
 Of fleshly thraldom, feek itself upborne 
 On plumes of ecstacy, and boldly springs 
 Up to the porch of heaven." 
 
 It has 'very often been a source of 
 regret to you, my dear Charles, that the 
 sabbath, however anxiously anticipated, 
 
 The reader will recollect Milton's sublime compari- 
 jou of liberty to an eagle.
 
 EARLY RISING. 197 
 
 and however cordially welcomed, has fre- 
 quently passed away, without its having 
 produced either those beneficial effects 
 which you had formerly experienced, or 
 those elevated pleasures which you have 
 occasionally enjoyed. The world, though 
 professedly dismissed from your thoughts, 
 has intruded upon your more serious hours ; 
 and even the exercises of devotion and the 
 public worship of the sanctuary have been 
 polluted by its contaminating influence, and 
 interrupted by its distracting perplexities. 
 Nor do I wonder at this. If those Christians 
 whose lives are almost exclusively devoted 
 to the service of God, and whose attention 
 is generally directed to those objects which 
 are calculated to inspire them with devo- 
 tional feelings, have had reason to complain 
 of the deceitfulness and desperate wicked- 
 ness of their hearts, and have mourned over 
 their tendency to yield to the surrounding 
 attractions of sense ; is it to be wondered at, 
 if you, who are so much engaged in secular 
 pursuits, whose wishes are so often suffered 
 to be directed to temporal attainments, and
 
 whose energies are so frequently exerted for 
 this purpose; is it to be wondered at, if 
 you rush at once from these into " the 
 courts of the Lord," without any previous 
 preparation, withoutallowingyourself either 
 time or opportunity to collect your scatter- 
 ed thoughts, and to turn them into a differ- 
 ent and more suitable channel; that your 
 worship should be attended with so little 
 spirituality of mind, and be characterized by 
 so little of that truth which a holy and jea- 
 lous God requires ? 
 
 The hours of meditative leisure which 
 the morning supplies, are calculated to be 
 particularly serviceable to you, as the re- 
 maining parts of the day do not afford those 
 opportunities for the duties of the closet 
 which you may then possess. The public 
 worship of God, and your attendance to 
 sabbath school-instruction, leave you a very 
 small portion of time for a personal applica- 
 tion of the truths of the Gospel. There 
 is a possibility of your more active engage- 
 ments assuming too much the nature of 
 business, and becoming almost as unpro-
 
 EARLY RISING. 199 
 
 ductive of religious feelings as secular oc- 
 cupations, depriving you of the privileges 
 which they are in themselves capable of 
 affording when entered upon with a proper 
 spirit, and in a suitable frame of mind. I 
 am particularly anxious that you should 
 guard against this, as it will divest the sab- 
 bath of some of its most valuable blessings, 
 and will render it unproductive of its cha- 
 racterisjic beneficial influence. Let the 
 silent hours of the morning of this hallowed 
 day witness the fervour of your devotions, 
 the warmth of your gratitude, and the ar- 
 dour of your love. Let the early prayer 
 ascend to your risen Lord for communica- 
 tions of mercy suited to the day ; let " the 
 sweet hour of prime" be the date of your 
 petitions to the throne of grace ; secure this 
 semblance of Paradise before the objects of 
 sense have tempted you to taste their for- 
 bidden fruit; and enjoy that communion 
 with the most high God, which he vouch- 
 safes to those who " walk with him." 
 
 Consider the example David sets of 
 the practice I have recommended. " My
 
 200 LETTER* ON 
 
 voice," says he, " shalt thou hear in the 
 morning, O Lord! in the morning will I 
 direct my prayer unto thee, and will look 
 up."* Unto thee have I cried, O Lord ! 
 and in the morning shall my prayer prevent 
 thee."f " It is a good thing to give thanks 
 unto the Lord, and to sing praises unto thy 
 name, O Most High!" To shew forth 
 thy loving kindness in the morning, and thy 
 faithfulness every night." He declares 
 that " he prevented the dawning of the 
 morning, and cried ;" his " eyes prevented 
 the night watches." 
 
 It is worthy of observation, that all of 
 the evangelists, in their narration of the cir- 
 cumstances attending the resurrection of 
 Jesus Christ, have particularly marked the 
 time when the two Marys visited the se- 
 pulchre of their Lord. It was " as it began 
 to dawn," || it was " very early in the 
 morning ;"<[[ it was " when it was yet 
 dark."** Their anxiety about their Lord 
 
 * Psalm v. 3. t Psalm btxxviii. 13. t Psalm 
 xcii. 1,2. $ Psalm oh. 147, 8. || Matt, xxviii. 1. 
 f Mark, ivi. *; Luie, xxiv. 1. * John, . 1.
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 was evidently the predominant feeling of 
 their bosoms, and it would not permit them 
 to lose a moment without endeavouring to 
 relieve their solicitude. And though their 
 faith was still weak, and their object ap- 
 pears partly to have been to embalm the 
 Saviour's body, yet the recollection of his 
 declarations must have led them to have 
 indulged some faint hopes of the glorious 
 event which they afterwards found accom- 
 plished. But you have no such doubts. 
 The sabbath morning beams on you, as the 
 returning witness of the consummation of 
 the Saviour's work, and the completion of 
 your redemption. Your retrospective faith 
 may look back with mingled emotions of 
 joy and gratitude on the period when Jesus 
 rose from his dark and dreary bed, and rose 
 early for your everlasting welfare. Your 
 object is not to embalm his lifeless body, 
 but to " look to the author and finisher of 
 your faith," your ascended Lord, " the light 
 which is the life of men." And will you 
 not hail the first ray of that material sun 
 that invites you to fix your admiring eyes
 
 on the glorious Being of whom he forms 
 but a faint resemblance, and affords an in- 
 adequate comparison ? 
 
 The time is rapidly approaching, my 
 dear Charles, when our successive earthly 
 sabbaths, the preludes of an eternal rest, 
 will no longer by their immediate conse- 
 cration to the Lord, form a contrast to the 
 other portions of our time ; but when one 
 lengthened, endless, hallowed day will en- 
 able us to be " still praising" the God of 
 our salvation and the Redeemer of our souls. 
 What will be our feelings, when the infirmi- 
 ties of the body and the weaknesses of the 
 flesh no longer interfere with our devotional 
 exercises ? when, after the " multitude who 
 have slept in the dust of the earth shall have 
 awaked to everlasting life,"* no night t shall 
 again intrude, no darkness again intervene, 
 no slumber again be known ? when the 
 rest we shall enjoy will be connected with 
 an activity of service, whose very perform- 
 ance will be at once the fulfilment of duty, 
 and the renovation of our powers ? and 
 
 Dan. xii. 2. t Rev. xxi. 25.
 
 EARLY RISING. 203 
 
 when, as ministers of the Most High we 
 shall be " swift to fulfil his commands" and 
 " do his pleasure,", deriving new strength 
 from obedience, and fresh vigour from ex- 
 ertion ? And what will be the terrors of 
 those, who, " awaking to shame and ever- 
 lasting contempt," * will look back with feel- 
 ings of remorse upon the long and deceitful 
 dream of life, and shudder at the approach 
 of an interminable succession of realities, 
 with no slumber to soothe their pains, and 
 no repose to produce a temporary oblivion 
 of their misery. Happy indeed are we if 
 the delightful anticipations which our earthly 
 sabbaths sometimes afford, are the result of a 
 well-grounded faith in Jesus Christ ; happy 
 if there is prepared for us " a kingdom that 
 cannot be moved," " an inheritance incor- 
 ruptible, undefiled, and unfading ;" " an 
 exceeding and eternal weight of glory," 
 and " pleasures at God's right hand, for 
 evermore." 
 
 That my dear Charles may at last " in- 
 herit the promises," and thus find every an- 
 
 * Dan. xii. 2.
 
 L>04 LETTERS ON EAtUY RISING. 
 
 ticipation of his hope, and every expectation 
 of his faith exceeded by those "things which 
 God hath prepared for them that love him/' 
 is the sincere and earnest wish of his 
 
 truly affectionate friend. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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