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gether ten thouſand times more than they can poſſibly uſe.—
But ſee the folly of worldly wiſdom! How ſilly, how childiſh is the ſagacity of (what is called) manly and maſterly prudence, when it contrives more ſolicitouſly for time, than it provides for eternity! When every wheel-moves on ſmoothly; when all the well-diſpoſed deſigns are ripening apace for execution; and the long expected criſis of enjoyment ſeems to approach; behold! God from on high laughs at the Babel-builder. Death touches the bubble and it breaks; it drops into nothing.
Some, I preceive, arrived at threeſcore years and ten, before they made their exit: nay, ſome few reſigned not their breath, till they had numbered fourſcore revolving harveſts.——Theſe, I would hope, "remembered their Creator in the days of their youth," before their ſtrength became labour and ſorrow;—before that low ebb of languiſhing nature, when the keepers of the houſe tremble, and thoſe that look out of the windows are darkened; when even the lighting down of the graſhopper is a burden on the bending ſhoulders, and deſire itſelf fails in the liſtleſs lethargic ſoul;—before thoſe heavy hours come, and those tireſome moments draw nigh, in which, there is too much reason to say, "We have no pleaſure in them; no improvement from them."
