תמונות בעמוד
PDF
ePub
[graphic]

SERMON CXVIII.

HUMAN LIFE A DREAM.

Even like as a dream when one awaketh; so shalt thou make their image to vanish out of the city."-Ps. Ixxiii. 20.

1. ANY one that considers the foregoing verses wili easily observe that the Psalmist is speaking directly of the wicked that prosper in their wickedness. It is very common for these utterly to forget that they are creatures of a day; to live as if they were never to die; as if their present state was to endure for ever; or, at least, as if they were indisputably sure that they "had much goods laid up for many years:" so that they might safely say, "Soul, take thine ease; eat, drink, and be merry." But how miserable a mistake is this! How often does God say to such a one, "Thou fool! this night shall thy soul be required of thee!" Well then may it be said of them, "O how suddenly do they consume!"-perish, and come to a fearful end. Yea, (6 even like as a dream when one awaketh; so shalt thou make their image to vanish out of the city."

2. But I would at present carry this thought farther; I would consider it in a general sense, and show how near a resemblance there is between human life and a dream. An ancient poet carries the comparison farther still, when he styles life "the dream of a shadow.' And so does Cowley, when he cries out,

"O life, thou nothing's younger brother!

So like, that we mistake the one for the other!"

But, setting these and all other flights of poetry aside, I

would seriously inquire, wherein this resemblance lies; wherein the analogy between the one and the other does properly consist.

Who

3. In order to this, I would inquire, first, What is a dream? You will say, "Who does not know this ?" Might you not rather say, Who does know? Is there any thing more mysterious in nature? Who is there that has not experienced it, that has not dreamed a thousand times? Yet he is no more able to explain the nature of it, than he is to grasp the skies. can give any clear, satisfactory account of the parent of dreams, sleep? It is true, many physicians have attempted this; but they have attempted it in vain. They have talked learnedly about it, but have left the matter at last just as dark as it was before. They tell us of some of its properties and effects; but none can tell what is the essence of it.

4. However, we know the origin of dreams, and that with some degree of certainty. There can be no doubt but some of them arise from the present constitution of the body; while others of them are probably occasioned by the passions of the mind. Again: we are clearly informed in Scripture, that some are caused by the operation of good angels; as others, undoubtedly, are owing to the power and malice of evil angels, (if we may dare to suppose that there are any such now; or, at least, that they have any thing to do in the world.) From the same divine treasury of knowledge we learn that, on some extraordinary occasions, the great Father of spirits has manifested himself to human spirits "in dreams and visions of the night." But which of all these arise from natural, which from supernatural, influence, we are many times not able to determine.

5. And how can we certainly distinguish between our dreams and our waking thoughts? What criterion is there by which we may surely know whether we are awake or asleep? It is true, as soon as we awake out of sleep, we know we have been in a dream, and are now awake. But how shall we know that a dream is

such while we continue therein? What is a dream? To give a gross and superficial, not a philosophical, account of it: it is a series of persons and things presented to our mind in sleep, which have no being but in our own imagination. A dream, therefore, is a kind of digression from our real life. It seems to be an echo of what was said or done when we were awake. Or, may we say, a dream is a fragment of life, broken off at both ends; not connected either with the part that goes before, or with that which follows after? And is there any better way of distinguishing our dreams from our waking thoughts, than by this very eircumstance? It is a kind of parenthesis, inserted in life, as that is in a discourse which goes on equally well either with it or without it. By this, then, we may infallibly know a dream, by its being broken off at both ends; by its having no proper connection with the real things which either precede or follow it.

6. It is not needful to prove that there is a near resemblance between these transient dreams, and the dream of life. It may be of more use to illustrate this important truth; to place it in as striking a light as possible. Let us then seriously consider, in a few obvious particulars, the case of one that is just awaking out of life, and opening his eyes in eternity.

7. Let us then propose the case. Let us suppose we had now before us one that was just passed into the world of spirits. Might not you address such a newborn soul in some such manner as this? You have been an inhabitant of earth forty, perhaps, fifty or sixty years. But now God has uttered his voice, "Awake, thou that sleepest !" You awake; you arise; you have no more to do with these poor transient shadows. Arise, and shake thyself from the dust! See, all is real here! all is permanent, all eternal! far more stable than the foundations of the earth; yea, than the pillars of that lower heaven. Now that your eyes are open, see how inexpressibly different are all the things that are now round about you! What a difference do you

perceive in yourself! Where is your body,-your house of clay? Where are your limbs, your hands, your feet, your head? There they lie, cold, insensible!

"No anger hereafter, or shame,

Shall redden the innocent clay;
Extinct is the animal flame,

And passion is vanish'd away."

What a change is in the immortal spirit! You see every thing around you; but how? Not with eyes of flesh and blood. You hear; but not by a stream of undulating air, striking on an extended membrane. You feel; but in how wonderful a manner! You have no nerves to convey the ethereal fire to the common sensory; rather, are you not now all eye, all ear, all feeling, all perception? How different, now you are thoroughly awake, are all the objects round about you! Where are the houses, and gardens, and fields, and cities which you lately saw? Where are the rivers, and seas, and everlasting hills? Was it then only in a dream that our poet discovered,

"Earth hath this variety from heaven,
O, pleasure situate in hill and dale ?"

Nay, I doubt all these vanished away like smoke, the moment you awoke out of the body.

8. How strange must not only the manner of existence appear, and the place wherein you are, if it may be called place! though who can define or describe the place of spirits, but the inhabitants of that unknown region? whether they are of the number of those unhappy spirits that "kept not their first estate," or of those holy ones that still "minister to the heirs of salvation." How strange are the employments of those spirits with which you are now surrounded! bitter are they to the taste of those that are still dreaming upon earth! "I have no relish," said one of theso, (a much applauded wit, who has lately left the body,) "for sitting upon a cloud all day long, and singing praise to

How

[ocr errors]

God." We may easily believe him; and there is no danger of his being put to that trouble. Nevertheless, this is no trouble to them who cease not day and night, but continually sing, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth!"

9. Suppose this to be the case with any of you that are now present before God. It may be so to-morrow; perhaps to-night: perhaps this night your "soul may be required of you;" the dream of life may end, and you may wake into broad eternity! See, there lies the -poor inanimate carcass, shortly to be sown in corruption and dishonour. But where is the immortal, incorruptible spirit? There it stands, naked before the eyes of God! Meantime, what is become of all the affairs which you have been eagerly engaged in under the sun? What profit have you reaped of all your labour and care? Does your money follow you? No; you have left it behind you; the same thing to you as if it had vanished into air. Does your gay or rich apparel follow you ? Your body is clothed with dust and rottenness. Your

soul, indeed, is clothed with immortality. But O! what
immortality? Is it an immortality of happiness and
glory; or of shame and everlasting contempt? Where
is the honour, the pomp, of the rich and the great; the
applause that surrounded you? All are gone; all are
vanished away,
"like as a shadow that departeth."
"The play is over," said Monsieur Moultray, when he
saw the ball pierce the temples of his dying master.*
And what cared the courtier for this? No more than if
it had been the conclusion of a farce or dance. But while
the buffoon slept on and took his rest, it was not so with
the monarch. Though he was not terrified with any
thing on earth, he would be at the very gates of hell.
Vain valour! In the very article of death, he grasped
the hilt of his sword! But where was he the next
moment, when the sword dropped out of his hand, and
the soul out of his body? Then ended the splendid

* Charles XII., King of Sweden, at the siege of Fredericksball.

« הקודםהמשך »