324 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS, 3. 0° 'We can only tell God what angels and happy souls tell him more of, and in a much better manner: And yet all that angels can say, bears no proportion to what God is ; for if it did, God were not infinite. Should a little emmet, that feels the sun - beams, lift up its head and say, " O sun, thou art warm ;" a creeping insect that knows nothing of the nature, the glory, the wonderful properties, operations and effects of this prodigious and astonishing world of fire, nothing of its various and admirable motions, real or supposed, nothing of its vast cir- cumference and greatness; yet this despicable emrnet gives praise to the sun much more than we can do to our God, much more than angels can do, more than all created nature can do : be- cause there is some proportion between the praises of this creep- ing worm, and the glories of the sun ; they are both finite : But the glories of our God are infinite; therefore no created praise bears any proportion. It is only the godhead that can fulfil its own praises ; that voice that built the heavens and the earth can tell what God is, and what God has done. If he pronounce a word, and create all things by it, it is only that word can pay him sufficient praise. How far then are our feeble and mean essays of worship from adding any thing to our Maker! A sorry ant gives heat and glory to the sun, by telling it is warm, as much as all the acclamations of heaven and earth can add real glory to the blessed God. His essential perfections are incapable of receiving the least grain of addition from all the thoughts and tongues of the intellectual world. His own idea of himself is his noblest praise. How far are the most exalted praises we pay to God, be- low the danger of flattery ! Flattery exalts a thing beyond its nature and merit; but no fellow- creature would call himself flattered, should we speak of him in so mean terms, and so much below his worth, as we must do when we speak the high- est praises of our God that our thoughts can reach to : And yet Ps. I. 23. " He that offered' praise glorifiesme." O divine con- descension, that a God will esteem our despicable praises some of his glories ! VII. A Meditation for the First of May. WHAT astonishing variety of artifices, what innumerable millions of exquisite works, is the God of nature engaged in every moment ! How gloriously are his all- pervading wisdom and power employed in this useful season of the year, this spring of nature! What infinite myriads of vegetable beings is he forming this very moment, in their roots and branches, in their leaves and blossoms, their seeds and fruit! Some indeed begun to discover their bloom amidst the snows of January, or under the rough cold blast of March : those flowers are withered and
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