could be extended ten fold? Yet we have no evidence that any unusual proportion of the Antediluvians became penitent before death. Nay, "the earth was filled with violence," by them.

The duration of the world makes our little span of sublunary being appear still more trifling. For nearly six thousand years, the earth has performed its revolutions, the sun has shed its light, the rivers have run into the sea, the sea itself has kept ebbing and flowing, and the earth has been covered with verdure. Generations innumerable have lived their appointed time, and returned to dust; but the foundations of nature are still firm, and for aught we can see, may yet endure hundreds of centuries. It was a comparison of our fading life with the constant earth, that filled the mind of the royal moralist. One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh ; but the earth abideth forever." The duration of human life dwindled to a moment in his mind, and the stability of the earth filled his thoughts like eternity. The psalmist compares our life with the most fading and changeable of the productions of the earth. It is "a flower, it is grass, the flower of the grass, a vapour" but "the foundations of the earth are aid that it should not be removed forever."

But eternity alone will give us a just estimate of the shortness of life. Extend your view forward, to a boundless existence. Think of the Being, who is from eternity to eternity, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. The earth itself becomes a mere passing dust. Time, years, centuries, dwindle to a point. Our own existence is lost, like a drop in the ocean. Nay, the ocean may be measured by drops, but eternity can never be measured. We can neither begin nor end the computation. Of old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of thy hands.

They shall perish but thou shalt endure yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; and as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed: but thou art the same, and thy years shall have no end."

II. Our life appears short, if we compare it with the works we have to do.

The business of the present world must be attended to. "Every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving." When we look at the world, and see the great openings for enterprise, the noble acquisitions which may be made, and the success that has attended others; when we see the still higher eminence, in happiness, in wealth, in honour, which is in view, but has never been reached, our minds are filled with ardour. We will go beyond all that have preceded us. We will rise to the summit of worldly attainments. We will throw all others into the shade by the splendor of our greatness.-The thought of death comes over our minds, and our heart sinks within us. Life is too short to realize our golden teams. If we would not lay out for a disappointment, we must moderate our hopes. Our lives are too short to level mountains, to turn the course of rivers, to build up empires, to master the whole sum of human learning, and to find out all the secrets of nature. We cannot perfect the plans and inventions which we might form for human improvement. A great work can be finished by no one, so well as by the original mover. Many a noble enterprise has been broken off and defeated, because the life of the projector was too short, and his successors were too indifferent, to bring it to a favourable issue.

Still less can we enjoy the fruit of our labours. Said a certain rich man, when his barns were bursting with plenty, "Soul, thou hast much goods laid up, for many years; take

thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry." But while he was thus flattering his hopes, and felicitating himself upon his success, God said to him, "Thou fool, this night shall thy soul be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided ?" A variety of considerations tend to make us feel that our time is short, to enjoy the good things of this life. They soon satiate us, and cease to afford us high pleasure. We are continually longing for variety. They perish in the using. They take to themselves wings, and fly away. Death comes upon us in the midst of our enjoyment ofthem,and burries us to the grave, to leave them all forever. And then, what does it avail, that we have tasted largely of the felicities of life? What are riches and honors, to a dead man? The thought that we must soon part with our dearest delights, casts a gloom over our pleasant hopes, The time of our enjoyment is so short.

It is but a short time, that we have to suffer the ills of life. This is a world of sorrow. "Man-is of few days, and full of trouble." And though the shortness of life be of itself a sorrow, yet the thought of it may lighten the weight of severer affliction. When the christian feels life to be an insupportable load, when his body is filled with pain, his plans frustrated, his prospects darkened, his friends forsaking him, or snatched from him by death, and he is ready to sink under the burthen, hope opens to him a speedy release from life, and an entrance into his desired haven. “The time is short;" "For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come." "Arise ye, and depart, for this is not your rest." "The righteous is taken away from the evil to come." There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary are at rest.

We have but a short time to do good to others. We owe a variety

of social duties, and have many opportunities to promote the welfare of those around us. But those opportunities must be seized at the instant, or they are gone. Time hurries along so rapidly, that the moment when we can do any thing for others is usually the only time. We find it so, even in the most ordinary intercourse. A person, to whom we wish to show some particular civility, is within our reach; but for some reason, we delay our attentions, for an hour, or a day, and find it too late. We did not think he would go so soon. But time is short. We feel this more, when we are finally separated from our friends and neighbours. Then, in our seasons of meditation and of sadness, memory is busy in recalling to us opportunities of kindness which have been suffered to pass unimproved; injuries which have been left unatoned for, and unforgiven; neglects which have never been made up; instructions, admonitions, prayers, which might have saved a soul, that now, perhaps, is lost forever. You were busied here and there; you delayed a little while. to attend to something else you waited for a season more convenient; you indulged in sloth, timjaity, or selfishness; fully infeading. to do your duty, and feeling that:an-. other time would do as wel;nji it is too late. Death has removed bim, beyond the reach of your kindness, beyond the sense of your neglect, beyond your warnings and your prayers. Time is so short that a moment may make it too late to accomplish your object.

Our time is short to prepare for eternity. All that we can gain or lose, enjoy or suffer, in this life, are trifles in themselves, compared with their influence on our eternal state. Before entering upon the retributions of that world, there is to be an examination of the deeds done in the body. When we are to be examined, preparatory to admission to earthly honors or privile

ges, how much pains is taken to pass the trial successfully. No efforts are too great, no care superfluous, no zeal excessive. But here is an examination for admittance to the glories and blessings of heaven. It is a very rigid scrutiny, reaching even to the thoughts and intents of the heart. It is a perfectly impartial trial, without fear or favor. And what is more than all, it is final. This is not a case, in which present mistakes can be corrected, and present failures retrieved, by future diligence. If you fail there, you fail forever. It is not a case, where, if you do not pass to a high degree, you may to a lower; or if not approved for one employment, you may be received for another. "It is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be hewn down, and cast into the fire, and burned." Such is the trial. And this life is the season of preparation. Is it not short, to prepare for such an examination? I do not ask those who have been resolving, and re-resolving, for many years, and have not yet begun the work. You keep putting off, and -putting off, because you think it can be done at any time. Old age, a sick bed, a moment, will be enough, according to your calculation. So little do you realize the difficulty and importance of the work. But say; ye who are groaning, and burdened with sin, who have long been endeavoring to mortify the deeds of the flesh, and who are almost ready to faint, in view of the distance at which you yet remain from that perfect holiness, which is necessary to be possessed in heaven; is not your time short, to subdue your remaining wickedness? Do you regret having begun your preparation so early? It is a great work, to prepare for eternity. It deserves our most anxious care; it will fully occupy our whole lives. And even then, unless we give unwearied diligence, death will surprise us with our work unfinished, and we shall

suffer loss.

III. We feel the shortness of time more, when we have ourselves curtailed our opportunities, by our negligence.

We often find when the portion of time which we have allotted to a particular object, is drawing towards a close, that we have made an unequal distribution of our labour, and have crowded an undue proportion upon the last of our time. With many people, the latter part of the day or week is always a time of anxious hurry. What a pressure of business do those find, who have delayed their preparation to leave the world, till they come upon the bed of sickness and death. Wealth, honours, kingdoms, worlds, would all be given up, to redeem a single hour. They have wasted their opportunities; they have suffered trifles to occupy their attention; they have kept putting off what was disagreeable to them, and they find themselves summoned away, when they are not at all prepared, either to leave this world, or to enter the other, in peace. What should have been the business of their lives, is thus crowded into a small space of time; and what is done in a hurry, is always ill done. Distress, confusion, and strife are entailed upon survivors; an anxious shuddering seizes the breast, as the billows of death roll over; souls are doubtless often lost forever, because the best part of life has been suffered to pass away, without securing the object of our existence, or considering our latter end. Ye who have been putting off the care of your souls, for twenty, forty, sixty years; how dare you waste your time, when life is so short?

IV. But we cannot see how short

time really is, until we look back upon it, when past.

Every successive portion appears shorter than that which preceded it. There are certain seasons which serve as waymarks in our journey of life, where we naturally pause

and think of the ground we have gone over. The anniversary of our birth, and of any other leading event, and especially the commencement of a New Year, invite us to retrospection; and then we may see how short our days are. It was but as yesterday when we were last reminded that we had begun a new leaf in the the history of our lives. "Our days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle." "They are as a shadow, and there is none abiding." "They are passed away as the swift ships,', which plough the ocean, and leave no trace behind. "We spend our years as a tale that is told." It interested our feelings at the time, and that is all. Every year brings us nearer our" appointed time." And every year appears shorter than the last. Every year, therefore, we ought to realize, more than ever, that our time is short.

We learn, from the shortness of life, that we shall soon bid adieu to the business, the pleasures, and the sorrows of life. This is the train of reflections, which occupied the apostle's mind. The mournful time is at hand when "they that have wives," or are rejoicing in the affection of friends, "shall be as though they had none," The tenderest ties are broken by death, never to be renewed as on earth." In heaven they neither marry, nor are given in marriage." They will be as though they had never been. "They that weep, as though they wept not." "This light affliction is but a moment." It will soon pass away, and be forgotten, as though it had never been. With the christian, it will be lost in that "eternal weight of glory" which it procures him. With the sinner, it will be nothing thought of, while he is "tormented in that flame." "They that rejoice, as though they rejoiced not." The joys of this life are all "like a dream when one awaketh." The scene may indeed be a pleasant one, but in the midst of it, we are awaked,

It is

and behold it is a dream. gone, as though it had never been. "They that buy as though they possessed not." What though they accumulate great heaps of wealth; they brought nothing into the world, and it is certain they can carry nothing out. Literally nothing: your riches will be nothing to you as though you had never possessed them. "They that use this world, as not abusing it ;" or, to keep up the same train of thought, as though they used it not. We deliberate, with great anxiety, what use we shall make of our time, talents, and wealth; where we shall live; whether we shall pursue this employment,, or another; whether we shall buy this thing or the other. It is all about nothing. The world will soon be all the same to us, as though we had never engaged in its cares. "For the fashion of this world passeth away."

We learn, likewise the duty of avoiding excessive anxiety, about our worldly concerns. Says the Apostle, pursuing his instructive lesson, "I would have you without carefulness." Nothing shews the folly of excessive concern about our worldly interests, so tauch as the extreme shortness of our connexion with them. Who would expend al his thoughts, and all his estate, upon a paper house? Who would build a palace of marble; on ground which he holds for a year? Who would contract an unconquerable affection, for one that only dined with him at the inn, and parted from him forever? Whose heart should break at a separation, even from the dearest friends, for only one night? Why should our feelings shrink at the thought of having our earthly house of this tabernacle pulled down, to be so soon restored, with heavenly splendor? "I would have you without carefulness."

We learn further, the near approach of the scenes of eternity.

There is no discharge in