proportion as we are wounded for the transgressions, and bruised for
the iniquities of others--it may not be possible for us to be
continually cheerful.

As for our own sorrows--the sufferings, the pangs, the bereavements of
our own existence--we should never cease to regard them, in some
measure, at least, as the chastisements of an Almighty Father. Smitten
friends, according to the sentiment of a distinguished poet, are
messengers of mercy to us--are sent on errands full of love.

"For us they sicken, and for us they die."

We should be at least resigned, even under such chastisements, when we
remember they are inflicted by a Father's hand.

But setting aside occasions of this kind, is there not a demand on our
whole nature, for general cheerfulness? It is not only the "sunshine of
the soul," but that of the body. The truly cheerful are not only
happier in their minds and spirits, but also in their very bodies. The
brain and nervous system play their part in the great drama of physical
life better; the heart, and stomach, and lungs, work better. Indeed,
all is better throughout.

Is not that a duty which is productive of so much happiness? But can
that be a duty which it is not in our power to perform? It were surely
an impeachment of the wisdom and goodness of God, did he require us, in
his providence or in his word--by his natural or his revealed law--to
do that of which we are incapable.

I consider cheerfulness, then, as a matter of duty; and, of course, as