# Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/Detached Thoughts

DETACHED THOUGHTS.
WE are creatures of circumstance, inclination, or habit. One influences us, one impels us, one fixes us. Some are so much influenced by changing circumstances, that they have no rectifying principle, but revolve with the wheel of fortune. Some are led by inclination into the paths of vanity or vice; but habit finally fixes us all, associates us to some set of ideas, stamps upon us some kind of character, and marks us down for the future participation of joy, or for the blackness of darkness forever."
When we least expect happiness, it is often nearest; when we most desire it, it is frequently farthest from our reach. Is not this to repress the pride of human foresight, to humble the ​vanity of anticipation; and since we know not what a day may bring forth, to teach us our complete dependence upon him "who holdeth in his hands the keys of life and death?"
Physiognomy is an uncertain standard of character. The emotions to which a person is most subject may, indeed, mark correspondent lines upon the face, if their exercise is violent or protracted. But how at first sight can we gain that hidden knowledge of human nature, which after many years of painful study we often fail of attaining? We may suppose that we are but imperfectly acquainted even with our intimate friends, if we consider how little we know of our own prevailing errors, our own imperceptible motives of action; and recollect that the sages of antiquity pronounced it the most difficult part of knowledge, for man to know himself.
Why will some sects deny the necessity of literary knowledge to Clergymen? While the opposers of religion assiduously cultivate human learning, and strengthen the weakness of their cause by their own erudition, should its advocates be deprived of an useful weapon, and the "children ​of this world be wiser in their generation than the children of light!"
How can any one deny the depravity of human nature, who perceives in his own heart the inroads of pride, envy, and opposition to God; who sees even in the infant mind, seeds of rebellion and ingratitude; who beholds a globe once so fair from its Maker's hands, polluted with blood, and the hatred of man to man; who knows that the Son of God suffered the death of the cross, that our sin might be taken away; and who hears the voice of Omnipotence proclaiming of man, "every imagination of the thoughts of his heart is only evil continually?" Nothing but the Spirit of God, can make us sensible of our situation, for a part of our punishment is already begun—"having eyes we see not, having ears we hear not, having hearts we do not understand."
When we indulge anger at any provocation, we prepare work for repentance. When we practise deception, we renounce the inward support of rectitude. When we seek for the favour of the world, we encourage vanity. When we neglect to speak in the cause of piety, we forfeit ​our own peace of mind, and lose our claim upon that divine assistance without which we can do nothing.
When the feelings have been designedly wounded, that kind of assiduity which is employed under the idea of effacing the remembrance, often fails of its effect, by leading the mind back to the cause which produces the uncommon attention, and which also at first produced the pain. This is a complex idea; but he who understands but little of human nature, knows that it is easier to gain the forgiveness of twenty offences, easier to appease the most violent anger, than to heal a wound intentionally inflicted upon an inoffensive and susceptible heart. The wisest of men has said "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit, who can bear."
It is not enough that we refrain from speaking evil of our enemies, if we indulge thoughts of enmity towards them. Let none think that by placing a guard upon his expressions, he fulfils the law of Christ, if within his heart joy rises at the distress of those who hate him. We must not rest in the externals of duty, we have a judge ​who "regardeth not the outward appearance;" neither let us deceive ourselves, by thinking we have already obtained victory over our own hearts, when those roots of bitterness spring up within them, which hereafter must be gathered, "and bound in bundles to burn."
Omit a duty for once, and it will be more difficult to execute when necessity compels its performance. From what knowledge I have of my own character and propensities, I find that I am inclined to delay, to procrastinate, and to neglect favourable opportunities, either from not duly appreciating them, or from a vain hope that they will return again.
Friends, benefactors, and enemies are neither more or less to us than an Omnipotent Being sees fit to make them. Favours and insults, gifts and injuries, are neither sent us at random, nor without a good design; and it should be our constant prayer that we may never frustrate the intended good, nor miss the lesson of improvement which the page of providence spreads before us.
I hope I can bear ingratitude and ill treatment to myself; and may heaven preserve me from returning the same to others. Any misery is supportable but the consciousness of having deliberately broken the good law of duty. Sins against light, and against love, are a heavy weight to the spirit, and leave a wound which the hand of divine grace only can heal; a stain which nothing less than the blood of the Son of God can wipe away.
The disagreeable occurrences of life require us to watch strictly over our hasty spirits. When we are fatigued with exertion, when our hearts are joyless, and our arms nerveless, and we find ourselves annoyed by vexation, perplexity, or contradiction, then is the time for us to double our mental guard, to hold strict sway over the mutinous powers, and to reflect deeply upon the precept "He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city broken down—without walls."
The more we encourage plans of earthly employment, emolument, or happiness, the more we put out of view the things unseen and eternal. In this there is a warfare.—"The flesh standeth ​against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh;" and nothing but the stroke that separates them can destroy this opposition.
Why should man fear death? Why should we fear to tread a narrow passage to a better world; to pass the portal of a temple immortal, not made with hands? It is the fear of futurity that plants thorns in the pillow of death. For if we were assured of the favour of Him who ruleth in that unseen world, if we were confirmed in our title to that incorruptible mansion, though the parting from present things might be painful, or the passage from them dreadful, yet we should lift up our heads, and rejoice, knowing that our redemption drew nigh.
If you yield to difficulties you encourage weakness of mind, and prepare yourself to be often overcome and held in bondage. If you were an inhabitant of Russia or Lapland, would you say, I cannot go out to my usual occupations because the snow falls, or the ice has covered the streets? Would you not rather wrap your garment about you, and meet the present inconvenience for the sake of a future good? You inhabit a world ​where difficulties, vexations, and disappointments spring up in the paths of knowledge, duty, and enjoyment. They are placed there as an exercise of your patience, your fortitude, your perseverance: go forth with this armour, and you shall prevail; shrink, and be a slave forever.
Want of sincerity is observable in many of the Christians of the present day. They exhort, but do not practise; they believe, but do not feel. The consequence is that they neither enjoy what they profess, nor give others reason to suppose that they understand what it implies.
Religion is supposed by the world to be a system of rigour and austerity, marking its miserable votaries with the traces of melancholy, and supplanting all the innocent affections of life. How careful ought its professors to be, that their deportment evince no unsociability, moroseness, or want of courtesy!
"Why should we mourn that we are so weak, and exposed to afflictions; when one liveth to ​strengthen our weakness, and to sanctify afflictions, if we will only ask him in faith, nothing doubting?
Those who know nothing of the duty of prayer, except its formal performance, would he astonished to learn what strength it imparts for the difficulties, trials, and perplexities of life.
Can a mind wholly absorbed in the things of the world have a sincere desire, and ardent hope of Heaven? Can a heart that longs supremely for the grandeur and false splendour of life be right in the sight of God? Can a spirit that looks disdainfully upon merit unarrayed have a right estimation of man? Surely no. But take heed, thou that inscribest these sentences, lest thine heart harbour anger, acrimony, or revenge, lest in judging another, thou condemnest also thyself.
Let us desire a disposition to return good for evil; and to walk stedfastly in the path which our duty points out, not abashed, discouraged, ​or irritated by the watchful observations of those who decry religion, and hate its professors.
Egotism and vanity are weapons which we use against ourselves. We wish to stand high in the opinion of others; but nothing destroys our own dignity more than the repetition of the pronoun I. We wish to appear gracefully in the eyes of others; yet nothing destroys the attraction of beauty more effectually than vanity. "In simple manners all the secret lies."
When we have recovered from dangerous illness there is an error into which our earth-bound minds are apt to fall. This is entertaining our friends, with every symptom and variation of our malady, instead of the praise of our great physician. Few say, "Where is God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night?"
Any affliction is more supportable than the consciousness of having mispent our time, and neglected opportunities for usefulness. The ​reproach then falls upon ourselves, and this kind of "wounded spirit who can bear."
One error is liable continually to follow us, and destroy the good effect of our best resolutions. This is a spirit of procrastination, a neglect of favourable opportunities for usefulness, until those opportunities are past beyond recal. Then follows the fruitlessness of regret, and the bitterness of self reproach.
If it is sometimes difficult to know how to direct our course, yet the path of rectitude is always open before us, and we need not hesitate to pursue it. The ambiguities of others sometimes perplex our designs, let us be careful that no ambiguity of ours may ever be a stumbling block in the way of others.
What is there in the human mind so tremblingly vulnerable, that even the suddenness of blunt sincerity, or the hasty speech of thoughtlessness should wound it like the thorn of unkindness? Those tender and undefinable feelings must often ​thrill and vibrate to the rude touch, unless they become gradually hardened by the rough intercourse of the world.
In all that overtakes us, whether joyful or afflictive, we should recognize the hand of Providence. Not a sparrow falleth without it; how much less shall the children of men pass unnoticed, unregarded, and unprovided for!
Disagreeable circumstances will meet us in the passage of human life, and we must be prepared to sacrifice to them neither our self possession, nor our inward repose.
How can any say that we may merit an everlasting reward by the imperfect obedience of this fleeting life? If our humble faith and patience are at length clothed with a spotless robe of righteousness, who wrought out this robe for us? Can impurity merit perfection? Can poverty pay an infinite ransom? "Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? Not one." There must be some righteousness which we have not ​wrought; some reward which we have not merited; for how can the withering insects of time compass Eternity?
It is a blessing, that the world furnishes us with so few satisfying pleasures; and that in our approaches, to what are supposed its purest fountains, we so often find them mixed and vapid. This withdraws our grasp from its perishable possessions; drives us to the strong hold of hope; shuts us up to the faith of the gospel; and if the heart sometimes sickens at its delusions, it learns that in heaven only it can find peace,
There is a hand that writes vanity upon every mortal possession and hope. There is a touch colder than marble, which freezes the illusions of fancy. There is a power that severs the close woven web of man's felicity, and cuts the strong Cordage of the heart. He struggles awhile against that dart which pierces to "the dividing asunder of soul and spirit;" and, forgetful that he is of the dust, shudders at the voice which proclaims, "unto dust shalt thou return."
Real benevolence imparts willingly, and is thankful to Him who furnishes an opportunity of so doing. Fashionable benevolence aids those in situations which are applauded among men, and repeats how much she has given. Covetousncss sometimes parts with a portion of its gains, fancying it will merit either prosperity or favour from God. My Saviour! is this the lesson of benevolence which thou hast taught us, and is it of little consequence how we obey thy perfect law of love?
Infidelity often shelters itself under the mask of love to mankind, and a desire to break the shackles of superstition. Thus have many who are called Philosophers been, for a long time, labouring to undermine the fabric of enjoyment and hope. Can it advance the felicity of man to disbelieve the existence of a God? Or quicken him to watchfulness to cast away the idea of his own accountability?
How often do we have cause to lament that our good resolutions are weakened by the cares and perplexities of life, and frequently overthrown by sudden and unexpected occurrences!
Let us not seek the applause of men, or the pomp and vanity of life; for they will prove hindrances to the race eternal. But let us patiently bear every appointed trial, looking unto Him who, for our sakes, was content to bear reproach and to be crucified.
The Almighty alone can soften our disappointments, that they may not weaken the strength of the inward man; and apply them, so as to change our losses into gain, and our tears into victory.
Of how little value are the flowers and thorns, the obstacles, or accommodations, of this narrow region, through which we pass as travellers and as strangers? What avails it where we pitch our tent which may be shaken and destroyed in a moment; or what reception we meet at the inn where we must remain but for a night, if we are at last found worthy to be numbered with angels, and to have our lot among the saints?
How does the office of a parent, call for all the teachings of affection, and all the vigilance of ​example; and how does it impel to all the holy violence of prayer, lest the plant should at last furnish fuel for everlasting burnings!
"Man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things that he possesseth." Neither the use, respectability, nor enjoyment of the present life depends on external treasures. Far less are the hopes and felicities of the world to come influenced by such slight and variable causes. "The poor of this world hath God chosen, rich in faith, and heirs of his kingdom."
It is thought by some that where there is a taste for literature, and advantages for its cultivation, improvement and success are almost inevitable. But what are the most persevering exertions without the divine favour? Nay "It is God that giveth the increase." The health of the body, the health of the mind, and the prosperity of the soul, must be sought after in the same manner, and found only in the same source.
All actions that proceed from a principle of vanity, must in their end, be unproductive, and, in their restrospection, bitter.