its massive trunk! In every work of nature we may unfold some hidden inward treasure, closed for ever from those who despise to seek it, but opened to those who, with humility, praise, and thanksgiving, strive to do so."
Perhaps no man in the world had less than Douglas the pharisaical precision of Methodism; he was totally averse to their sudden and evanescent flights of enthusiasm, their frantic ravings of intemperate zeal in devotion, as if invoking a vindictive and implacable Deity; to all such fanaticism and the narrow prejudices of religious schemes, or sectarian bigotry, he was an entire stranger. With a truly rational and scriptural faith, and an enlightened understanding, sustained by that happy equilibrium which marks the sure progress of the true Christian, he walked humbly but nobly forward towards the borders of eternity; and amidst the impressions which swayed their hallowed influence over his mind, a sweet, an inward voice seemed to whisper, "Douglas, thy transgressions are forgiven! Go on, pursue the path of virtue, thy reward is near."
Ah! why cannot I more adequately represent those blessed and calm sensations the bosom feels when selfish affections, worldly pleasures, die within it, and are renounced altogether,—when it glows with the hope of being an agent in the hands of the Omnipotent, of dispensing around him the rich profusion of his blessings!
