destitute of company and conversation; I mean that intercourse and
communication which every reasonable creature ought to maintain with
the great Author of his being. The man who lives under an habitual
sense of the Divine presence, keeps up a perpetual cheerfulness of
temper, and enjoys every moment the satisfaction of thinking himself
in company with his dearest and best of friends. The time never
lies heavy upon him: it is impossible for him to be alone. His
thoughts and passions are the most busied at such hours when those
of other men are the most inactive. He no sooner steps out of the
world but his heart burns with devotion, swells with hope, and
triumphs in the consciousness of that Presence which everywhere
surrounds him; or, on the contrary, pours out its fears, its
sorrows, its apprehensions, to the great Supporter of its existence.

I have here only considered the necessity of a man's being virtuous,
that he may have something to do; but if we consider further that
the exercise of virtue is not only an amusement for the time it
lasts, but that its influence extends to those parts of our
existence which lie beyond the grave, and that our whole eternity is
to take its colour from those hours which we here employ in virtue
or in vice, the argument redoubles upon us for putting in practice
this method of passing away our time.

When a man has but a little stock to improve, and has opportunities
of turning it all to good account, what shall we think of him if he
suffers nineteen parts of it to lie dead, and perhaps employs even
the twentieth to his ruin or disadvantage? But, because the mind
cannot be always in its fervours, nor strained up to a pitch of
virtue, it is necessary to find out proper employments for it in its
relaxations.