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which had been dissolved by death. The prospect of this awakens in the heart, the most pleasing and tender sentiment that perhaps can fill it, in this mortal state. For of all the sorrows which we are here doomed to endure, none is so bitter as that occasioned by the fatal stroke which separates us, in appearance for ever, from those to whom either nature or friendship had intimately joined our hearts. Memory, from time to time, renews the anguish; opens the wound which seemed once to have been closed; and, by recalling joys that are past and gone, touches every spring of painful sensibility. In these agonizing moments, how relieving the thought, that the separation is only temporary, not eternal; that there is a time to come of re-union with those with whom our happiest days were spent; whose joys and sorrows once were ours; whose piety and virtue cheered and encouraged us: and from whom, after we shall have landed on the peaceful shore where they dwell, no revolutions of nature shall ever be able to part us more? Such is the society of the blessed above. Of such are the multitude composed, who "stand before the throne."

SECTION VI.

BLAIR.

The Clemency and Amiable Character of the Patriarch

Joseph.

No human character exhibited in the records of Scripture, is more remarkable or instructive than that of the patriarch Joseph. He is one whom we behold tried in all the vicissitudes of fortune; from the condition of a slave, rising to be ruler of the land of Egypt; and in every station acquiring, by his virtue and wisdom, favor with God and man. When overseer of Potiphar's house, his fidelity was proved by strong temptations, which he honorably resisted. When thrown into prison by the artifice of a false woman, his integrity and prudence soon rendered him conspicuous, even in that dark mansion. When called into the presence of Pharaoh, the wise and extensive plan which he formed for saving the kingdom from the miseries of impending famine, justly raised him to a high station, wherein his abil ities were eminently displayed in the public service But in his whole history, there is no circumstance so striking and interesting as his behavior to his brethren who had

sold him into slavery. The moment in which he made himself known to them, was the most critical one of his life, and the most decisive of his character. It is such as rarely occurs in the course of human events; and is calculated to draw the highest attention of all who are endowed with any degree of sensibility of heart.

From the whole tenor of the narration it appears, that though Joseph; upon the arrival of his brethren in Egypt, made himself strange to them, yet from the begining he intended to discover himself; and studied so to conduct the discovery, as might render the surprise of joy complete. For this end, by affected severity, he took measures for bringing down into Egypt all his father's children. They were now arrived there; and Benjamin among the rest, who was his younger brother by the same mother, and was particularly beloved by Joseph. Him he threatened to detain; and seemed willing to allow the rest to depart. This incident renewed their distress. They all knew their father's extreme anxiety about the safety of Benjamin, and with what difficulty he had yielded to his undertaking this journey. Should he be prevented from returning, they dreaded that grief would overpower the old man's spirits, and prove fatal to his life. Judah, therefore, who had par ticularly urged the necessity of Benjamin's accompanying his brothers, and had solemnly pledged himself to their father for his safe return, craved upon this occasion, an audience of the governor; and gave him a full account of the circumstances of Jacob's family.

Nothing can be more interesting and pathetic than this discourse of Judah. Little knowing to whom he spoke, he paints in all the colors of simple and natural eloquence, the distressed situation of the aged patriarch, hastening to the close of life; long afflicted for the loss of a favorite son, whom he supposed to have been torn in pieces by a beast of prey; laboring now under anxious concern about his youngest son, the child of his old age, who alone was left alive of his mother, and whom nothing but the calamities of severe famine could have moved a tender father to send from home, and expose to the dangers of a foreign land. "If we bring him not back with us, we shall bring down the grey hairs of thy servant, our father, with sorrow to the grave. I pray thee, therefore, let thy servant abide,

instead of the young man, a bondman to our lord. For how shall I go up to my father, and Benjamin not with me? lest I see the evil that shall come on my father."

Upon this relation Joseph could no longer restrain himself. The tender ideas of his father and his father's house, of his ancient home, his country and his kindred, of the distress of his family, and his own exaltation, all rushed too strongly upon his mind to bear any farther concealment. "He cried, cause every man to go out from me; and he wept aloud." The tears which he shed were not the tears of grief. They were the burst of affection. They were the effusions of a heart overflowing with all the tender sensibilities of nature. Formerly he had been moved in the same manner when he first saw his brethren before him. bowels yearned upon them; he sought for a place where to weep. He went into his chamber; and then washed his face and returned to them." At that period his generous plans were not completed. But now, when there was no farther occasion for constraining himself, he gave free vent to the strong emotions of his heart. The first minister to the king of Egypt was not ashamed to show, that he felt as a man, and a brother. "He wept aloud; and the Egyp→ tians, and the house of Pharaoh, heard him."

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The first words which his swelling heart allowed him to pronounce, are the most suitable to such an affecting situation that were ever uttered; "I am Joseph; doth may father yet live?" What could he, what ought he, in that impassionate moment, to have said more? this is the voice of nature herself, speaking her own language; and it penetrates the heart; no pomp of expression; no parade of kindness; but streng affection hastening to utter what is strongly felt. His brethren could not answer him; for they were troubled at his presence." Their silence is as expressive of those emotions of repentance and shame, which on this amazing discovery, filled their breasts, and stopped their utterance, as the few words which Joseph speaks, are expressive of the generous agitations which struggled for vent within him. No painter could seize a more striking moment for displaying the characteristical features of the human heart, than what is here presented. Never was there a situation of more tender and virtuous joy on the one hand; nor, on the other, of more overwhelming confusion

and conscious guilt. In the simple narration of the sacred historian, it is set before us with greater energy and higher effect than if it had been wrought up with all the coloring of the the most admired modern eloquence.

SECTION VII.

ALTAMONT.

BLAIR.

The following account of an affecting mournful exit, is related by Dr. Young, who was present at the melancholy scene.

THE sad evening before the death of the noble youth whose last hours suggested the most solemn and awful reflections, I was with him. No one was present but his physician, and an intimate whom he loved, and whom he had ruined. At my coming in, he said, "You and the physician are come too late. I have neither life nor hope. You both aim at miracles. You would raise the dead!" Heaven, I said, was merciful; "Or," exclaimed he, "I could not have been thus guilty. What has it not done to bless, and to save me! I have been too strong for Omnipotence! I have plucked down ruin." I said, the blessed Redeemer: "Hold! hold! you wound me! That is the rock on which I split; I denied his name!"

Refusing to hear any thing from me, or to take any thing from the physician, he lay silent, as far as sudden darts of pain would permit, till the clock struck: Then with vehemence he exclaimed; "Oh time! time! it is fit thou shouldst thus strike thy murderer to the heart! How art thou fled forever! A month! O for a single week! I ask not for years; though an age were too little for the much I have to do." On my saying, we could not do too much; that Heaven was a blessed place, "So much the worse. 'Tis lost! 'tis lost! Heaven is to me the severest part of hell!" Soon after I proposed prayer; "Pray you that can. I never prayed. I cannot pray, nor need I. Is not Heaven on my side already? It closes with my conscience. Its severest strokes but second my own." Observing that his friend was much touched at this, even to tears, (who could forbear? I could not) with a most affectionate look he said, Keep those tears for thyself. I have undone thee. Dost thou weep for me? that is cruel. What can pain me more !" Here his friend, too much affected, would have left him. "No, stay, thou still mayest hope; therefore hear me.

How madly have I talked! How madly hast thou listened, and believed! but look on my present state, as a full answer to thee, and to myself. This body is all weakness and pain; but my soul, as if stung up by torment to greater strength and spirit, is full powerful to reason; full mighty to suffer. And that, which thus triumphs within the jaws of immortality, is doubtless immortal; and, as for a Deity, nothing less than an Almighty could inflict what I feel.5

I was about to congratulate this passive, involuntary confessor, on his asserting the two prime articles of his creed, extorted by the rack of nature, when he thus, very passionately exclaimed; "No, no! let me speak on. I have not long to speak. My much injured friend! my soul, as my body, lies in ruins; in scattered fragments of broken thought. Remorse for the past, throws my thought on the future. Worse dread of the future, strikes it back on the past. I turn, and turn, and find no ray. Didst thou feel half the mountain that is on me, thou wouldst struggle with the martyr for his stake; and bless Heaven for the flames! that is not an everlasting flame; that is not an unquenchable fire."

How were we struck! yet, soon after, still more. With what an eye of distraction, what a face of despair, he cried out! "My principles have poisoned my friend; my extravagance has beggared my boy! my unkindness has murdered my wife! And is there another hell? Oh! thou blasphemed, yet indulgent LORD GOD! Hell itself is a refuge, if it hide me from thy frown!" Soon after, his understanding failed. His terrified imagination uttered horrors not to be repeated, or ever forgotten. And ere the sun, (which I hope, has seen few like him) arose, the gay, young, noble, ingenious, accomplished, and most wretched Altamont, expired!

If this is a man of pleasure, what is a man of pain ? How quick, how total, is the transit of such persons! In what a dismal gloom they sit forever! How short, alas! the day of their rejoicing! For a moment they glitter, they dazzle! In a moment, where are they? Oblivion covers their memories. Ah! would it did! Infamy snatches them from oblivion. In the long living annals of infamy their triumphs are recorded. Thy sufferings, poor Altamont!

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