the Saviour's grace, will there be repulsed by "the wrath of the Lamb." The soul will forever think, and feel and desire; it will be forever capable of hope, though hope may never come into its prison of despair; it will forever be susceptible of joy, though sorrow may be its bed. The memory, which Bunyan has called "the register of the soul," will recal the sins which the man has heretofore committed, and recal also the word that forbade itSon, remember, will be the employment of the lost soul. There will be no forgetfulness; yet nothing will be thought of, but to the greater wounding of the spirit. The memory will let these thoughts down upon the conscience, and make it cry reproachfully, "You knew your Master's will, but you did it not." Conscience will not sleep, nor be dull, nor be misled, in hell. The understanding will be employed in apprehending the depths of sin which the man has loved, the good nature of God, whom he has hated, and the blessings of eternity which he has despised. Every touch of the understanding upon the memory will be like the touch of "sharp arrows of the mighty, with burning coals of juniper." Imagination also will be active, with no less terror and perplexity, as a man, by fear bereft of his senses, starts and stares with fearful thoughts. There will be deep thoughts of the nature and occasions of sin, of God, of separation from him, and of the coming eternity;-thoughts which will clash with glory inaccessible, clash with justice, clash with law, clash with self, clash with hell-passions, that will be galling and stinging and dropping their poison into the sore, wounded, fretted spirit.

The loss of the soul implies, therefore, no suspension nor diminution of its susceptibilities and faculties. If the memory, and conscience, and understanding of the soul were stupefied at death, or contracted and restricted, so that they could no longer recur to the deeds done in the body, the dreadfulness of the loss would seem to the unsanctified heart to be quite tolerable. But its essential powers admit of no such abridgement or slumber. The final loss of which we speak, will waken and enlarge and quicken all its powers. And it will be forever itself the exactest possible "daguerreotype picture of all its transient states and passing acts."

III. Let us attend to the positive representation of the subject. The loss of the soul is its loss of holiness, and the consequent loss of its usefulness and happiness forever under the deserved wrath of God. It is the endurance of the just punishment of its sins. We are assured by the Scriptures that the favor of God is life, and that the indispensable qualification for enjoying his favor is holiness. Being "dead in sin," the impenitent soul is already lost. It is kept for a season under a system of reclaiming measures and means of salvation. The Redeemer "came to seek and to save that which was lost." Under this

remedial system, the sinner enjoys a respite-the invitations of heavenly mercy beseech him to be reconciled to God; these sacred sabbaths, the sanctuary, the Bible, Christian friends, are cords of sweet influence, drawing him to the Saviour; the goodness of God on every side delights his senses; the twinging stripes of divine wrath, are for a time stayed. But soon the soul passes away from the world in its sins, and it is then completely and forever lost-lost in guilt and pollution, and abandoned to the elements of remorse and sorrow, which are within and around it.

To its proper end and happiness in glorifying God, and in benefiting and blessing men, it is lost; lost, forever LOST. The darkness through which it wanders, the chains which hold it, the agonies and degradations that accumulate upon it, are such as strike the mind with fearful horror, and smite down hope with a fatal blow.

Lost is its opportunity of salvation. No inviting voice of an atoning Saviour is heard in hell; no gentle strivings of the Spirit are felt-no offer of pardoning mercy is ever made there.

Lost are its earthly comforts and means of gratification, which here mitigated the curse, and cheered the heart with joyous sensations and pleasant hopes.

Lost are its restraints which surrounded it in this world, and which operated as sweet and salutary forces, to hold its depravity in check, and kept it often from dashing downward in corruption and iniquity with reckless and impious haste. Now, set free from restraining influences, it rages wildly and blasphemes God, a terror to itself, and "a dread to even unsightly monsters of the pit." The sacred writers generally set forth the loss of the soul in figurative language. The most fearful imagery is employed on this subject which the human mind can conceive. "There is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth." There is "the smoke of the torment that ascendeth up forever and ever." There is "the everlasting fire," that never shall be quenched. There is "the worm" that gnaws and "never dies." There is the pit over which hangs "the blackness of darkness." There is "the resurrection of damnation," and the lifting up the eyes in torment, and the being cast away by Jehovah in his righteous indignation. Such language is used in the Bible, because it is best adapted to express and to awaken just conceptions of the evil to be endured. Some may attempt to relieve themselves of the painful apprehension of the soul's loss, by the idea that the terrific language of Scripture which describes it, is not to be understood literally. But a simple confidence in the veracity of the Word of God will assure us that the metaphors do not exaggerate the reality, nor mislead the child-like belief on this subject. No words used in their literal sense could adequately express the vivid conceptions

of the writers, or do justice to the awful subject. In the metaphorical language, derived from the most terrific objects in nature, there is a depth of meaning which we cannot fathom, but which is the more dreadful because it is inexpressible. None can know all that is implied in the loss of the soul, unless he shall be so unhappy as to learn it by experience.

We have no reason to doubt that there is a literal significance in the indignation and wrath of God, and in the positive punishments which God by his just judgment will render to his impenitent enemies. "He shall gather the good into his presence, and cast the bad away," and deliver them up to the torments of the devil and their own guilty consciences and deep thoughts, as on a burning rack-the due reward of their sins. In its nature, the loss of the soul is a peculiar loss. He that loses his soul, loses himself. "For what is a man advantaged," says Christ, "if he gain the whole world, and lose himself, or be cast away." If by getting the world, he lose himself, the loss is without a parallel. It is a loss which he will not be able to consider quietly, and sit down patiently under the sense of it. There can be no such grace in hell as patient enduring. There will be no foundation for patience. The providence of God is the foundation of patience to the afflicted. "But men go not to hell by providence but by sin." And sin being the cause of his loss, he will justify God, and tear himself with self-tormenting thoughts, laying the fault upon himself. For we know that "there is nothing which will sooner work vexation of spirit in a man than a full conviction in his conscience that by his own folly and wrong action, persisted in against caution, and counsel, and reason, to the contrary, he has brought himself into extreme distress and misery." How much more will it make this fire burn when he shall see what kind report God gave him of sin, of his grace, and of hell, and yet, for a toy, for a bauble, he was so foolish and perverse as to neglect the door of hope, and voluntarily bring this loss upon himself. Verily we may ask, "Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? Who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?" There is a force in the expressions of Scripture on this subject which may well make us tremble, and inspire us with an active and abiding dread of the threatened evil. Had there been less of indefiniteness and awful mysteriousness in the inspired representations of this dreadful loss, the minute description might have given us a clearer conception of the nature and mode of the penal retribution, and made us more familiar with it, but it would not have been more effectual to persuade men to turn from the ways of sin, and make them obedient and holy. "If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither would they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead."

Some may doubt the justice of this terrible penalty. But we should remember that God is Judge. He will not be influ

enced by our doubts, but will do what he knows to be just, and what is just, rendering to every sinner "according to the deeds done in the body."

We should guard against the influence of mere feeling, in judging of God's holy government, and in contemplating the penalty of sin. Our feelings may be benevolent and sympathetic, but they are limited and, in many cases, incompatible with the permanent welfare of the kingdom of God. It is the part of pious submission, distrustful of self, to yield to the high behest, "Be still and know that I am God."

Some may charge this doctrine with embittering all happiness, and may wonder how those who believe it can be happy in this world or the next. But it should be remembered, that there is a bright side to the divine economy, and the brightness is so great and glorious, that to the devoted Christian, intent on admiring its glory, the darkness is hardly perceptible. Perdition is a dark spot in the moral universe. But we are to behold also Christ's mission and death to save sinners. We are to rejoice and glory in a crucified Redeemer, and the hope of salvation through him. The saints in glory will behold God on the throne without "clouds and darkness round about him;" they will understand his love and justice, and the reasons of his administration. His mysterious acts, whether in this life, or in the future, will appear to them, in the light of eternity, to be all wise, and right, and good. And they will join with angel-worshippers in everlasting "Alleluias," with no murmurings at his past decisions, to mar their felicity.

The loss of the soul, duly realized, would restrain the spirit of worldliness, and lead us to use this world as not abusing it. The pursuits of pleasure and schemes for accumulating wealth, "choke the word," and drown the souls of multitudes in destruction and perdition. Here is the great danger which threatens the immortal interests of men at the present day. The extraordinary prosperity of the country, in its increase of business and wealth, has stimulated the masses, and enlisted the energies of men in money-making. Rushing eagerly forward, they are in great danger of forgetting God and their souls. Is it not so? Turn your thoughts to the scenes of coming destiny. Could you reject the Saviour if you realized what is comprehended in the loss of the soul? Suppose you have goods laid up for many years, "What shall it profit?"

The piety of Christians, in many cases, withers under an absorbing worldliness, and degenerates to a dull and lifeless formality. How shall this declension be avoided, and the heart be secured and elevated above the stupefying, bewildering influence of the world? We must pause and consider how these things will appear on our passage to eternity, and amidst the decisions of the righteous tribunal. What if hope should then depart, and

dread despair lift its unavailing cry, "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."

The loss of the soul, duly realized, would make us anxious to save others, as well as ourselves. We are journeying with fellow travellers to eternity. We should speak to them of the way and the end, and strive, by our prayers, our counsels, and our kind efforts, to turn their feet from the broad road to destruction, into the path of life and heaven.

The loss of the soul! Let me say that the reality far surpasses the representation that has now been presented. The time is not distant when every impenitent sinner will be amazed at his present indifference to the great concerns of his soul. The present world will then have passed away. Time will have numbered its years. The vast world to which you go, will have openedeternity, heaven, and hell. The sinner's doom will be fixed. What a prospect is this! Prepare to meet the awful scenes of eternity in peace.

What can I do, in bringing this discourse to a conclusion, but to hold out the signal of hope: "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life."

Ab, sinner, your soul is in danger of being lost forever, and immense difficulties lie in the way of its being saved.

Your soul has been redeemed by the blood of the Son of God; it was worth the infinite ransom; and it is worth being saved by a life of faith, and self-denial, and prayer. Your soul has been cared for in heaven. Will you not care for it yourself? Christ offers to save you. Will you not come to him that you may have life?

You see the prospect before you, of eternal communion with the wailings of the lost. You may shrink from the effort necessary to escape the coming doom. There is the plea of business, the plea of pleasure, and the plea of carnal apathy, coming up in favor of some more convenient season. But consider, and be wise: "What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"