The New-Jersey gazette — Burlington [N.J.], 1786-09-25 00:00:00, page 1

NEW-JERSEY GAZETTE.
[By Edmund Rack, Efquire.]
" Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die."
WHEN human life becomes the topick.
of ^onveifation, nothing is more
common than to hear people com
plain of its (hortnefs and uncertain
ty; and yet the various portions
into which it is divided are repre
sented as tedious. Numerous have been the arts em
ployed to accelerate its flight, and hasten the revoluti
on of periods, which once past can never return.
To many who complain that time is short, —that we
are here to-day and gone to-morrow, —a week, a day,
nay even an hour, seem intolerable, without some
amusement to biniih thought and reflection.
To a considerate mind, it must appear strange that
beings who possess, and boast of faculties and powers
of reasoning adapted to their Rate, should be inatten
tive to any part of that time, the shortness of which
they so frequently deplore. It is strange, that, know
ing its uncertainty, and that their happintfs or unhap
piness in a succeeding state of exigence will depend on
their conduct in the present life, they should want any
other incitement to practice it-s various duties with
unremitting diligence.^
From the curiosity men usually difeover on other oc
casions, it might reasonably be expected they would be
more frequently employed in contemplating that scene
which lies beyond the grave. It is, indeed, "to many
an undifeovered country ;" but as we must all soon be
come inhabitants of it, we ought, so far as rcafon and
revelation can guide us, to make it the fubjed of fre
quent enquiry anti serious meditation. General obser
vation, however, evinces that this is not the case. Little
folifitude is difeovered about' the nature and enjoy,
ments of that Rate to which we are hourly battening.
Mens' views, hopes, and expectations, seem almost
wholly centered on what relates merely to this life,
and the perishable objects of time and sense, which
have no relation to another.
Whence c^n this inconsistency of conduct arise !°ls
it that the natural love of life and its enjoyments, and
the hope of its continuance, banish every considera
tion of its end? Is it because it is pleasant to behold
the fun, and that even the idea of being taken from
visible things overspreads the mind with gloom ? Is it
that the foul " shrinks back.and startles at" the disso
lution of'its connection with the body? With virtuous
minds this cannot be the case. With the vicious, the
mere sensualist, and those who by considering " too
curiously" have reasoned themselves out of the belief
of the foul's immortality, it may. Such cannot re
flect on their final separation from all that now gives
them light, without feeling a degree of horror. Their
profpeCts are bounded by the narrow horizon of time,
and .their hopes by its enjoyments. Having no idea
of, they have no desire after, that intellectual fatisfac
tion which is suited to the dignity of a rational mind,
and the natural proof of its immortality.
To those, who, being Grangers to virtue here, have
no just conception of the nature of its rewards, eter
nity mull appear a dreary waste; and hence their
minds revolt from those boundaries which they dread
to pass. The language of their practice is, " From
the drift we were taken, and unto dust we shall re
turn ; —let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."
Although such cannot be wholly unqonfcious, they
seem at Least regardless, of their immortal defeent,
and degrade themselves from that rank they were de
signed to fill in the scale of being. To men cf this
class, it might reasonably be imagined, time would
appear mod precious, because they feem,not to ex
peft any thing beyond its limits; yet we find none
abuse it more, or pay let's regard to its fight. But,
independent of all future conliderations, it appears
folly in the extreme for us to lose, by a scene of mere
trilling, that which we know to be short in its dura
tion, when, by employing inftcad of wafting it, we
might increafc the fatisfaftion which even temporal
bleflings afford.
A man who thinks little of futurity is still capable
of much rational enjoyment in the Rudy of nature's
works, and those arts whigh excite curiosity and em
bellish life. When such dream away whole evenings
over a pack of cards, without a single idea being ex
cited that can either increase knowledge, or give any
rational entertainment, we cannot think very highly
of their understandings : but when they complain of
the shortness of life, and the uncertainty of time, we
must pity their inconsistency and folly. The field of
nature is so extensive, and replete with such a beauti
ful variety of objects capable of affording real cnter-
On the Abuse and Misapplication of
Time.
Vol. IX.]
TRENTON: Printed by ISAAC COLLIN S, Printer to the State.
MON D A Y, September 25, 1786.
tainment, that no man who foißly lays claim to com
mon sense can be juftified in fating hdurs and days flip
away in thoughtless inactivity. To contemplate these,
to trace effects up to thrift cardes,^, and observe the
wonderful manner in which^op's wisdom and pro
vidence is displayed on this [part of the immense the
atre of his works, seem an employment so well adapt
ed to excite pleasure in an intelligent mind, that to
negle& it betrays great insensibility.
Yet how frequentl^do we fee, that time is loft in
stead of being employed cither ufefully or profitably.
Men negleC t to improve either their understandings or
their hearts. Every trifle diverts their attention from
considerations of infinite importance. That great and
necessary work, which the mod active life can barely
accomplish, is frequently poftpohed to that season
when activity is molt difficult —the feeble evening of
age. And in many others, those faculties and powers
of the mind, which were given them to investigate,
adore, and imitate the moral perfections of our Crea
tor, are prostituted to the unworthy purposes of ob
taining wealth instead of wisdom, seeking sensual in-
Read of rational pleasures, and the '' mere whistling
'of a name," instead of true honour, and virtuous
praise.
Thus too many " live fools" in the most emphatical
sense of the term, " but fools they cannot die." The
time is battening when every illusive phantom will va
nish, every maik be ftript off, and their folly and de
formity will appear. Awakened conscience <will then
be heard. At this season what will riches, honours,
pomp and grandeur, avail ? Then " all that now spar
kles in the eye of hope, ot pants in the bosom", of
ambition, will lose its power to please. The hours
they have trifled away will be recollected with painful
regret. The c rtainty'of those truths will then be felt,
which in the days of thoughtless feftivity they treated
as idle chimeras and enthufaftick reveries. The fal
lacy of their schemes will then be detected, and they
will with their time and rale ts had been .employed in
the study of wisdom, and th.f practice of virtue.
How fir the mercy of Goti may be with-held from
such hereafter, let me not presume to determine. Far
be it from me to attempt limiting even in idea, its
glorious extenfioh, or to assign the ministration of
eternal punishment on any of my fellow-beings. But
is it net great presumption to venture an eternity on
so doubtful a cast ? Let us ever bear in remembrance
that 'Juftice is one of the Divine attributes, and that
the incorrigible offender has not, in that flute, any
claim to the Divine favour.
Were we frequently to attend to the Right cf time,
and confider its end ; to examine on what eur hope of
future bliss is founded, and anticipate that day of dis
covery and decision which is hastening upon us, it
would excite diligence, and weaken our attachment
to inferior objects. To a mind confeious of its native
dignity and immortality, this employment cannot be
either unpleasing or unprofitable. It is the highest
proof of wisdom so to ad in our prefect situation,
that when removed to another, the change may be as
happy as it will be lading. We need got fear that this
will diminish our present happiness. 'The Gracious
Being who formed us requires no service at our hands,
but what will tend to promote our prefect good.
" Godliness is profitable to all things ;" by living in
conformity to its rules, we escape many evils, and are
preserved in virtue and innocence. We enjoy every
gratification that can give deight to a reasonable mind.
Were mankind generally influenced by this noble prin
ciple, how happy would be the Rate of human socie
ty! The voice of difeord would be no more heard.
The various ranks and classes of men would be con
nected in the Rroiigcft and molt pleating band of uni
on. " Righteousness and peace would kiss each other,"
and extend " from the river to the ends of the earth."
The present Rate of existence would be only a happy
prelude to one Rill more exalted and glorious in the
realms of eternal day.
However visionary or puritanical these reflexions
may be deemed by the gay, the incorifiderate, and the
licentious, a time is approaching when such will dif
eover and own them to be the language of truth.
When the dream of folly is ended, their life will
appear a barren waste, and every pursuit, which ter
minates with it, unprofitable. But thole who have
eaily applied their hearts unto wisdom, and made her
precepts the governing rule of action, will possess that
substantial treasure which can never fail. They will
approach the confines of. the grave with a hope that is
full of immortality, and, in the last " hour of adver
sity, be joyful."
It is only in proportion as men wifely and profitably
employ the time allotted them in this Rate of being,
that they can review life with fatisfadion, when its
folcmn close approaches. The mind that is confeious
of having thus spent its days, feels, in the hour of
T H E
4 ,
death, that security and exultation so strongly describ
ed by Addison, in these inimitable lines:
" The foul, fecur'd in her #xiftence, smiles
" At the drawn dagger, and defies its point ;
"The stars shall fade away^hc fun himfelf
"Grow dim with age, and nature fink in years,
" But thou shalt lldnrifh in immortal youth,
" Unhurt amjdft the war of elements,
" The wreck cf matter, and the crush of worlds."
-<>--<> ^OQs^^q.^,..„<,..
The Life of John Newton, in a series of letters
to the Rev. Mr. HawEis-continued.
LETTE R IV.
Rev. and dear fir,
r rHE consideration of whom I am writing to, ren
, ders it needless for me, either to enter upon a
discussion of the nature of dreams in general, or to
fylke an apology for recording my own. A late emi
nent writer, Baxter, on the /Tj inertice, who, I pre
fame is not generally charged with enthusiasm, under
times to prove that the iphasnomenon of dreaming is
inexplicable, without taking in the agency and inter
vention of spiritual beings, to us invisible. I would
refer the incredulous to him. For my own part I can
lay without scruple, " the dream is certain, and the
interpretation thereof sure." lam sure I dreamed to
the following effeX, and«cann e t doubt, from what I
have seen since, that a ditea and easy ; pplicati
on to my own circumfLes-to the dangers in which
I was about to plunge Cdf-and to the unmerited
deliverance and mercyQi.h God would be pleased
to offer me in the hour of my dtßrefs.
I he scene prufented to my imagination was the har
bour of fewce, where we had lately been—l thought
it was night, and my watch upon the deck ; and that
as I was walking to and fro by mvfelf, a p er son came
to JH-L I 1 - d ° not ^member from whence) and brought
me a ring with an express charge to keep it carefully—
alluring me, that while I preserved that ring, I should
be happy and fuccefsful—but if I ioR or farted with
it, I must expert nothing but trouble and misery: I ac
cepted the present and the terms willingly, not in the
- lead doubting my ownrare to preserve it, and highly
fatisfied to have my own happiness in my own
keeping. I was engaged in these thoughts when a se
cond person came to me, and, observing the ring cn
my finger, took occasion to ask me some questions con
cerning it. I readily told him its virtues, and his
answer expressed a furprize at my weakness in expect
ing such effetls from a ring—l think he reasoned with
me some time upon the impossibility of the thing and
at length urged me, in direct terms, to throw it a^av -
At firft I was Ihocked at the proposal, but his insinu
ations prevailed—l began to reason and doubt myfclf
and at laR plucked it off my finger, and dropped it
over the ihip s fide into the water, which it had no
I looner touched, than I law the fame instant a terrible
I f , b urst out from a range of the mountains, a part
;of the Alpj, which appeared at some distance behind
' tee city of Venice. I saw the hills as diftindlv as if
awake and they were all in flames—l perceived too
I late my folly ; and my tempter, with an air of insult
l informed me, that all the mercy God had in reserve for
me, was compriled in that ring, which I had wilfully
I thrown away. I undeiftood that I must now go with
I him to the burning mountains, and that all the flames
I law were kindled on my account. I trembled, and
was in great agony ; so that it was furprizing I did not
then awake—But my dream continued, and when I
thought mg fed upon the point of a constrained de
parture, and flood felf-condemned, without plea or
hope, suddenly, either a third person, or the "fame
who brought me the ring at firft, I am not certain
whicn, came to me, and demanded the cause of mv
grief I told him the piain case, confeffing that I had
ruined myfelf wilfully, and deserved no pity. He
, blamed iny rashness, and alked me if I should be wiler,
luppohng I had my ring again. I could hardlv an
'"'s.'° th .' s ; , tor 1 thought it was gone beyond recall.
I believe, indeed, I had not time to answer, before I saw
j this unexpected friend go down under the water, iuft ,
lin1 in the spot where I had dropped .it, and he foo; re-
I turned, bringing the ring with him. The moment
I he came on board, the flames in the mountain were
I cxtingmlhed, and my seducer left me. My fears were
l at a ?. e ? d , f. nd wit h joy and gratitude I approached
I ray kind deliverer, to receive the ring attain ; but he
retufed to return it, and spoke to this effect:
If you should be entrusted with this ring again,
« would very soon bring yourfelf into the fame
; Giorefs; you are not able to keep it; but I will
pieferve it lor you, and whenever it is needful, will
produce it in your behalf."
, ,°° V" 81 „° ke in a ft{ te of mind not to be de
scribed: I could hardly cat or sleep, or tranfaft m
[Numb, 437. J