_Brethren, my heart’s desire and prayer to God_ is, that he would _gather the outcasts of Israel_. And I doubt not, but when the fulness of the _Gentiles_ is come in, then _all Israel shall be saved_. But mean time, is there not great cause that ye should say with _Daniel_, _O Lord, righteousness belongeth unto thee, but unto us confusion of face, as at this day, to the men of Judah, and unto all Israel. O Lord, we have sinned, we have rebelled against thee, neither have we obeyed the voice of the Lord our God. Yet O our God, incline thine ear, and hear; open thine eyes and behold our desolations; for we do not present our supplications before thee for our righteousnesses, but for thy great mercies. O Lord hear! O Lord forgive! O Lord, hearken and do! Defer not, for thine own sake; for thy city and thy people that are called by thy name._
15. I cannot conclude without addressing myself to you also, who do not admit either the _Jewish_ or _Christian_ revelation. But still you desire to be happy. You own the essential difference between vice and virtue; and acknowledge, (as did all the wiser _Greeks_ and _Romans_) that vice cannot consist with happiness. You allow likewise that gratitude and benevolence, self-knowledge and modesty, mildness, temperance, patience and generosity, are justly numbered among virtues; and that ingratitude and malice, envy and ill-nature, pride, insolence and vanity, gluttony and luxury, covetousness and discontent, are vices of the highest kind.
Now let us calmly enquire, how far _your_ life is consistent with your principles.
* You seek happiness. But you find it not. You come no nearer it with all your labours. You are not happier than you was a year ago. Nay, I doubt you are more unhappy. Why is this, but because you look for happiness there, where you own it cannot be found? Indeed, what is there on earth which can long satisfy a man of understanding? His soul is too large for the world he lives in. He wants more room.
Æstuat infelix augusto limite Mundi, Ut brevibus clausus Gyaris, parvaque seripho.
He has already travelled through all which is called pleasure; diversions and entertainments of every kind. But among these he can find no enjoyment of any depth; they are empty, shallow, superficial things: they pleased for a while, but the gloss is gone: and now they are dull and tasteless. And what has he next? Only the same things again; for this world affords nothing more. It can supply him with no change. Go, feed again: but it is upon one dish still. Thus
_Occidit miseros crambe repetita._
Yet what remedy under the sun!
* 16. The sounder judgment, the stronger understanding you have, the sooner are you sated with the world. And the more deeply convinced, all that cometh is vanity; foolish, insipid, nauseous. You see the foibles of men in so much clearer a light, and have the keener sense of the emptiness of life. Here you are, a poor, unsatisfied inhabitant of an unquiet world; turning your weary eyes on this side and on that side: seeking rest, but finding none. You seem to be _out of your place_: neither the persons nor things that surround you are _such as you want_. You have a confused idea of _something_ better than all this; but you know not where to find it. You are always gasping for _something_ which you cannot attain, no, not if you range to the uttermost parts of the earth.
But this is not all. You are not only _negatively_ unhappy, as finding nothing whereon to stay the weight of your soul; but _positively_ so, because you are unholy: you are miserable, because you are vicious. Are you not vicious? Are you then full of gratitude to him, who giveth you life and breath, and all things? Not so; you rather spurn his gifts, and murmur at him that gave them. How often has your heart said, God did not use you well? How often have you questioned either his wisdom or goodness? Was this well done? What kind of gratitude is this? It is the best you are master of. Then take knowledge of yourself. Black ingratitude is rooted in your inmost frame. You can no more love God, than you can see him; or than you can be happy without that love.
Neither (how much soever you may pique yourself upon it) are you a lover of mankind. Can love and malice consist? Benevolence and envy? O do not put out your own eyes. And are not these horrid tempers in _you_? Do not you envy one man, and bear malice or ill-will to another? I know you call these dispositions by softer names; but names change not the nature of things. You are pained that one should enjoy what you cannot enjoy yourself. Call this what you please, it is rank envy. You are grieved, that a second enjoys even what you have yourself; you rejoice in seeing a third unhappy. Do not flatter yourself: this is malice, venomous malice, and nothing else. And how could you ever think of being happy, with malice and envy in your heart? Just as well might you expect to be at ease, while you held burning coals in your bosom.