Our obligation to search the Scriptures, and by that means acquaint ourselves with their valuable contents, appears from the _necessity_ and _design_ of committing them to writing. St. Paul says, “All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness: that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works.” But how can they contribute to these important ends without being read? What effect could the mere writing of them have on mankind, to inform the judgment and regulate the life? How could Christian motives have proper influence, if the Sacred Volume were neglected? Is it not an insult to common sense, to assert that the Scriptures were written for our instruction and admonition, but it is not necessary to peruse them to learn what they teach? To have a Bible, and not to read it, for direction in the way of truth and holiness, would not be attended with any peculiar advantage. Precious metals, deposited in the earth, must be procured to be rendered beneficial. The Holy Scriptures contain the revelation of God to mankind, declare his will with certainty, and are the prescribed means of salvation: the Apostle says, “they are able to make us wise unto salvation, through faith that is in Christ Jesus.” * * * * * Footnotes - Chapter IV [74] Benson on Gen. i, 9, 10. [75] Contemplative Philosopher, vol. ii, pp. 177-179. [76] M. Savary, in his instructive and entertaining Letters on Greece, has the following pertinent reflections: “We enjoy the finest weather imaginable; not a cloud obscures the sky, and a south-east wind wafts us directly towards the port to which our wishes tend. We have now entirely lost sight of land, and, as far as the eye can reach, only view the immense abyss of the waters, and the vast expanse of the heavens. How awful is this sight! How does it inspire the mind with great ideas! How adventurous is man, who trusts his fortune and his life to this frail vessel he has built, which a worm may pierce, or a single blast dash to pieces against a rock. Yet in this he braves the fury of the ocean! But how admirable is his ingenuity! He commands the winds, enchains them in the canvas, and forces them to conduct him where he pleases. He sails from one end of the world to the other, and traverses the immense liquid plains without any signals to direct him. He reads his course in the heavens. A needle, which wonderfully points perpetually to the pole, and the observation of the stars, inform him where he is. A few lines and points mark out to him the islands, coasts, and shoals, which his skill enables him to approach or avoid at pleasure. Yet has he cause to tremble, notwithstanding all his science and all his genius! The fire of the clouds is kindling over his head, and may consume his