animals; and I think, indeed, much more. Further, with regard to our nature, we are, from the very principles of our being, dependent on society for happiness. It may be the distinction of infinite perfection that it needs no society-perhaps it must be; but it is a distinction that belongs to what is divine, not to what is human; to what is infinite, and not to what is finite. He who framed our nature has decided, that it is not good for us to be alone; and every lonely hermitage and solitary cell, every gloomy seclusion from all human sympathies, testifies that it is not good for man to be alone. Devotion indeed has its place, and a much larger place, undoubtedly, than is commonly given to it, but it could never have been designed to engross all our affections. It supplies a void it is true, which nothing else can fill, but it does not meet every want of human nature. The mind would still be unsatisfied if it could not share its devotion with others, if it could not impart its happiness to other minds. To beings like us, the Divinity,we might almost say, would lose a portion of its attractiveness, if it were not reflected in the virtues of the excellent, the lovely, the godlike around us. Our nature then is social; it demands society; it depends upon society; and I believe that its perfection in heaven will not consist in the relinquishment of some of its noblest faculties and affections.

2. For this belief I derive a second argument from the character of our religion. Our religion not less than our nature is social. Some of the most exalted and difficult virtues we have to cherish, are the virtues of society. Our Scriptures are full of injunctions to the

cultivation of them. And yet the supposition against which I am contending is, that all these virtues are to be laid aside at the very moment when they have come to their maturity. Can this be true? Can it be true that human virtue is cultivated only to be destroyed? that it is brought to its budding and blossoming, only to perish in its ripeness?

We are taught to regard heaven as the perfection of our religion. And is it to be supposed that that social character which forms so large a part of religion, will be left out of the account? We are accustomed also to believe that men will be rewarded or punished hereafter in the very character which they form here; that every man will carry his character with him, to enjoy or to endure it as his recompense. And again I ask, shall that which almost the whole frame and business of life is fitted to produce,-shall the social character be left out of the account?

These are reasons, and they are strong ones. What can we be, hereafter, considering our nature, what can we be but social beings? What ought we to be, considering our religion,—what ought we to be, if not social beings? These, I say, are reasons; but let us resort to authority.

3. As a third and decisive argument then for the social character of heaven, I say that the Scriptures teach it. The words of our Saviour to the Sadducees, in the 22d chapter of Matthew (verse 30,) are clearly and strikingly to this point. Our Saviour in those words is answering an objection. The objection assumes, that heaven, if there be a heaven, is a

social state; it imputes to our Saviour this idea of heaven; it asks, which of the seven that had one wife should be her husband' hereafter; it founds itself therefore on the notion of society in heaven. Now let it be observed that our Saviour does not reject this notion, but corrects it. He tells the Sadducees that they did not understand the power of God in relation to this matter that they were mistaken. But how? Not in the idea that there is society in heaven, but in their views of the nature of this society. He says, that in heaven they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God. The same general doctrine pervades the whole of Scripture. Shall we resort to parables or narrations? Lazarus in Abraham's bosom, Moses and Elias together visiting our Lord on the mount of transfiguration, seem commissioned to assure us that there is society, nay that there is friendship in heaven. Shall we turn to the more didactic and dispassionate instruction of Scripture. We perpetually hear in the ordinary teachings of the Apostles, of an innumerable company, of a multitude that no man can number, of the general assembly and church of the First Born which are written in heaven. What do these phrases import, if they do not imply that there is society among the blessed? Again, shall we ask those who have been favored with some glimpses of the heavenly glory? The whole vision of the Apocalypse proceeds on the supposition of a fellowship of the saints in heaven. John saw in vision the myriads of the blessed, and he saw them united in common devotions and praises. Isaiah in vision saw them not only engaging in the worship of God, but saying one to another, holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts.'

Do we now, on the whole, ask with the Sadducees how this can be? how the relations of society can be adjusted in heaven-how there can be attachment without exclusiveness, how there can be friendship without partiality, how there can be society without distrust, or jealousy or collision; our Saviour answers, 'Ye know not the Scriptures nor the power of God; for in heaven they neither marry nor are given in marriage'— they neither form nor retain any connexions that are inconsistent with diffusive and disinterested affection, but they are as the angels of God.

Such are the attractive views which we are allowed to entertain of future happiness. Heaven is not a solitary nor a quiescent state of being. It is not a cell, but a mansion. It is not a wilderness, but a city. It is peopled with life; it is inhabited by the good and kind and friendly; it is the perfect abode of perfect goodness and friendship. We do not say where, but what it is. Whether the happy shall be confined to one place, according to the prevailing idea of heaven, or whether, as may be more justly supposed, they shall go from world to world, to survey the glories of creation, it is at least reasonable to believe that they will communicate their thoughts of gratitude and admiration; that they will renewedly and forever say one to another as they pass onward, holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.

If these views of the future life be just, they cannot be barren of interest or of inference; and I shall ask the reader's attention to two or three brief suggestions arising from them.

The first is that they offer encouragement and conso

lation in the toils and trials of human virtue. There is consolation under the failure of our honest and ardent desires and endeavors for social usefulness, for if our belief be authorised, they will not terminate with life. We have had it in our hearts, perhaps, to do, what our hands could not perform. The zeal of our benevolence has been chilled by distrust, by opposition from others, by inefficiency or mistake in ourselves, or by that disproportion which must ever be found between project and accomplishment. Perhaps disease has sapped and undermined our strength, and we drag, to every enterprise or study we undertake, the clogs of earthly infirmity. Meanwhile the harvest is great; everything is to be done; the wastes of ignorance spread far and wide; the prevalence of impiety or of a stupid neglect of religion is fearful; the cries of misery are piercing; the laborers, the helpers, the comforters are few. The work seems to us to be great, perhaps, just in proportion as our ability is small. Sensible of both, we sit down oppressed and afflicted with the conviction that we can do little or nothing for our kind. We say that we must die, and we feel as if that were the end of our usefulness. But if the views of heaven which have been stated are just, the good that we do in this world, may be only the beginning of our usefulness. There is another sphere for social exertion where benevolence may glow with intenser fires, where it may open wider plans, and pursue them with happier success: where the works of the good and generous shall follow them not for reward, only, but in continuance, shall follow them. Not one kind and pure affection shall be lost; not one shall be ungratified. Man may still be attached to man; mind