402 HE^nY KTKKE WHITE's REMAINS. 



man with the turbulent irregularity and violence of him 

 who neglects his soul for the allurements of vice, and 

 judge for yourselves of the policy of the conduct of each, 

 even in this world. Whose pleasures are the most ex- 

 quisite ? Whose delights the most lasting ? Whose 

 state is the most enviable ? His, who barters his hopes 

 of eternal welfare for a few fleeting moments of brutal 

 gratification, or his, who while he keeps a future state 

 alone in his view, finds happiness in the conscientious 

 performance of his duties, and the scrupulous fulfilment of 

 the end of his sojourn here ? Believe me, my friends, 

 there is no comparison between them. The joys of the 

 infatuated mortal who sacrifices his soul to his sensualities 

 are mixed with bitterness and anguish. The voice of con- 

 science rises distinctly to his ear, amid the shouts of in- 

 temperance and the sallies of obstreperous mirth. In the 

 hour of rejoicing she whispers her appalling monitions to 

 him, and his heart sinks within him, and the smile of 

 triumphant villany is converted into the ghastly grin of 

 horror and hoplessness. But, oh ! in the languid inter- 

 vals of dissipation, in the dead hour of the night, when 

 all is solitude and silence, when the soul is driven to 

 commune with itself, and the voice of remorse, whose 

 whispers were before half drowned in the noise of riot, 

 rise dreadfully distinct — what ! — what are his emotions ! 

 — Who can paint his agonies, his execrations, his despair! 

 Let that man lose again, in the vortex of fashion, and 

 folly, and vice, the remembrance of his horrors ; let hira 

 smile, let him laugh and be merry : believe me, my dear 

 readers, he is not happy, he is not careless, he is not the 

 jovial being he appears to be. His heart is heavy within 

 him ; he cannot stifle the reflections which assail him in 

 the very moment of enjo3'ment; but strip the painted 

 veil from his bosom, lay aside the trappings of folly, and 

 that man is miserable, and not only so, but he has pur- 

 chased that misery at the expense of eternal torment. 



Let us oppose to this awful picture the life of the good 

 man ; of him who rises in the morning, with cheerful- 

 ness, to praise his Creator for all the good he hath be- 

 stowed upon hira, and to perform with studious exactness 



