66 flaming pit amaze and confound you. The extended jaws of ruin will receive you ; into the midst of its burning bowels you will sink, and in its unqualified sorrows you will plunge and be lost. "Oh! that you were wise, that you understood this, that you would consider your latter end." But, may I not hope, that there are many who are not treating these solemn things in this careless way? Death you conceive is near at hand, you know that by yonr evil practices you have exposed your souls to ruin,-you are anxious to escape final misery, and secure the glories of heaven,-you are concerned to be quite ready,-this you see is a matter of paramount importance,-you pray much, and the burden of your request is, "Show me the way to shun, Thy dreadful wrath severe, That when thou comest on thy throne Ah! my friends, even we, the most of us, are very remiss! Why this unwatchfulness,-this forgetting death,this yielding to sin,—this want of feeling concerning the final judgment,-this trifling,-these defects in holiness,this attachment to the things of time,—and this little communion with God. How few among us are made meet for the inheritance of the saints in light. How few can say, desire to depart,-I am ready to be offered up,-I have fought a good fight,—I have kept the faith,—there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness,-of glory. O let us, who profess to be the Lord's people, be more alive to these things; let us lay them fully to heart, let us watch and pray, and believe more; let us not rest until we are saved fully, until, by happy experience, we can say, "Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." Amen. SERMON IV. ON THE DOMINION AND POWER OF DEATH. Job xxx. 23. For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all living. WHETHER men regard it or not, they are fast hastening on the way of all flesh; and, when a few years have past, they will enter the place from which they cannot return. This is alike true of the subjects of piety, and the sons of folly. The grave is the house appointed for all living. But the views formed, and feelings indulged, by these two classes of human beings, are as different as the roads on which they journey, and the characters which they sustain. To a good man, the subject of his dissolution is familiar, and the prospect of dying often pleasing. For, though. cheerless, when viewed only as an event, yet the good that lays beyond it, and the support promised him in his passage, attract his attention, and animate his soul. In addition to this, there are many things around to wean him from this evil world. Frequently he feels, and says,— I would not live always. Thus the exercises of his present situation-the exceeding great and precious promises which are made unto him,—the rich inheritance which lays beyond Jordan's swelling waves,-and the foretaste of that inheritance which he has in his soul, conspire to render him thankful, that God will bring him to death, and he hails as welcome, the house appointed for all living. But the man who is living without God, and destitute of saving hope, commonly declines the consideration of this important subject, and views it as an object gloomy and cheerless. That, to him it is gloomy and uninviting, we need not wonder. While indulging sinful propensities, and pursuing evil practices, there are no promises to support his mind, nor any thing beyond death to awaken his desires, and animate his soul. And, though many things, in his present condition, tend to harass his mind, and wean him from earth, yet, he prefers the evils with which he has to contend, to those which he rationally apprehends may be his portion beyond the grave. Have I any of this class before me? I must still urge on your notice the impressive theme; for, you know, however disposed you are to forget it, that does not alter the fact. Your Creator will bring you to death, whether you regard it or not. Rouse yourselves from your delusive dreams, and reflect, that the hour is not far distant, when you will be grievously afflicted,-your bodily functions cease-your probation be finished,—and your destiny settled for ever. If you be not affected by sentiments like these, it is because you do not consider them-you do not lay them to heart. You either abandon them from your thoughts, or the world and its concerns, lay such fast hold on your affections, and so completely occupy your minds, that death, and its important realities have no place with you. Oh that I could be the instrument of riveting your attention to the impressive theme, that I could press this subject home to your understandings and your hearts, that I could bring you to look it in the face, and meditate closely upon it; then should I feel confident of being the minister of good to your souls. Calmly reflecting on this," will chill your unhallowed enjoyments,-check you in ford bidden pursuits,-rouse your fears,-excite your hopes, urge you to seek an interest in the blood of Christ, and a meetness for appearing at the Bar of God,--inspire you with energy in performing religious duties,—and induce you to work while it is day, from a conviction that the night is coming when no man can work. Why do you waste your time-disregard the means of spiritual profit-persecute the pious-bury yourselves in the world—pursue vain amusements-neglect your souls and wickedly depart from God? The answer is at hand. You forget that you have to die. You lose sight of the house appointed for all living. Properly reflecting on this would awaken all within you. It would carry your thoughts beyond the things of time. You would feel admonished, that this world and the fashion of it pass away. And furnished from hence with motives many and great, you would seeure an interest in that inheritance the possessers of which are no more sick; and, amidst life's numerous conflicts, disappointments, and afflictions, addressing yourself to the Most High, you would say, "I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all living." In these words there are two things which claim our notice:-The extensive ravages of death,—and the utter impossibility of resisting its stroke. I will consider, I. THE EXTENSIVE RAVAGES OF DEATH. The grave is the house appointed for all living." This is a most solemn reflection; and when I consider the continual wreck which death is making in the earth, and his frequent breaches in our neighbourhoods, and even in the circle of relations and friends, I often wonder that this subject makes so slight an impression on our minds. Perhaps the most rational way in which we can account for this is to consider it as arising from these things being always under our notice; and thus, by a kind of habit, the mind becoming familiar with them. It has sometimes been re marked, that when an object, even of considerable magnitude and importance, is pressed continually close upon our notice, it ceases to rouse our feelings, or in any other way affect our souls." An object ever pressing dims the sight.” In accordance with this thought, we have sometimes remarked, that things which, from their magnitude and novelty, have fixed the attention of an astonished stranger, awakened his contemplative powers, filled him with amazement, buried him in silent wonder, and almost riveted him to the spot; have been treated with as much indifference by the person, who for years has been accustomed to them, as if nothing great, or attracting was near him. A man travels in a foreign land; he approaches towards a mountain, the base of which extends wide, and its top pierces the thick cloud, while, from its summit, teems, in a sublime arch, the thundering cateract, and pours its contents into the adjoining plain. A combination of surrounding objects tends much to increase the grandeur and sublimity of the scene. He gazes in breathless amazement, wishes for the genius of the painter, and feels the romantic glowings of the poet. On joining with his friends, he endeavours to describe the objects in which he has felt so much interest; but regrets the poverty of his ideas, and the insufficiency of human language, to give them a proper notion of the subject; and despairs of making an impres sion on their minds, corresponding with that made on his own. In the mean while, the peasant who was born in a neighbouring cottage, and to whom the neighbourhood has been the scene of youthful rambles, and manly toils, drives along his team, beguiles the hours with a vacant song, and pursues his employments as though quite insensible to the surrounding scenery. It is on this principle we can the most rationally account for the general carelesness of human beings, while surrounded with the extensive and continued ravages of |