9. The time is near when Christ and salvation will not be made light of as now they are. When God hath shaken those careless souls out of their bodies, and you must answer for all your sins in your own name, oh then what would you give for a saviour! When a thousand bills shall be brought in against you, and none to relieve you, then you will consider, Oh! Christ would now have stood between me and the wrath of God: had I not despised Him, He would have answered all. When you see the world hath left you,. and your companions in sin have deceived themselves and you, and all your merry days are gone, then what would you give for that Christ and salvation that now you account not worth your labor! Do you think that when you see the judgment set, and you are doomed to everlasting perdition for your wickedness, that you should then make as light of Christ as now? Why will you not judge now as you know you shall judge then? Will He then be worth ten thousand worlds? and is He not now worth your highest estimation and dearest affection?

10. God will not only deny thee that salvation thou madest light of, but He will take from thee all that which thou didst value before it: he that most highly esteems Christ shall have Him, and the creatures, so far as they are good here, and Him without the creature hereafter, because the creature is not useful; and he that sets more by the creature than by Christ, shall have some of the creature without Christ here, and neither Christ nor it hereafter.

So much of these considerations, which may show the true face of this heinous sin.

What think you now, friends, of this business? Do you not see by this time what a case that soul is in that maketh light of Christ and salvation? What need then is there that you should take heed lest this should prove your own case! The Lord knows it is too common a case. Whoever is found guilty at the last of this sin, it were better for that man he had never been born. It were better for him he had been a Turk or Indian, that never had heard. the name of a Saviour, and that never had salvation offered to him: for such men "have no cloak for their sin." Besides all the rest of their sins, they have this killing sin to answer for, which will undo them. And this will aggravate their misery, that Christ whom they set light by must be their Judge, and for this sin will he judge them. Oh that such would now consider how they will answer that ques tion that Christ put to their predecessors: "How will ye escape the damnation of hell ?" or, "How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?" Can you escape without a Christ? or will a de

spised Christ save you then? If he be accursed that sets light by father or mother, what then is he that sets light by Christ? It was the heinous sin of the Jews, that among them were found such as set light by father and mother. But among us, men slight the Father of spirits! In the name of God, brethren, I beseech you to consider how you will then bear this anger which you now make light of! You that can not make light of a little sickness or want, or of natural death, no, not of a tooth-ache, but groan as if you were undone; how will you then make light of the fury of the Lord, which will burn against the contemners of His grace! Doth it not behoove you beforehand to think of these things?

Hitherto I have been convincing you of the evil of the sin, and the danger that followeth: I come now to know your resolution for the time to come. What say you? Do you mean to set as light by Christ and salvation as hitherto you have done; and to be the same men after all this? I hope not. Oh let not your ministers that would fain save you, be brought in as witnesses against you to condemn you; at least, I beseech you put not this upon me. Why, sirs, if the Lord shall say to us at judgment, Did you never tell these men what Christ did for their souls, and what need they had of Him, and how nearly it did concern them to look to their salvation, that they made light of it? We must needs say the truth; Yea, Lord, we told them of it as plainly as we could; we would have gone on our knees to them if we had thought it would have prevailed; we did entreat them as earnestly as we could to consider these things; they heard of these things every day; but, alas, we could never get them to their hearts: they gave us the hearing, but they made light of all that we could say to them. Oh! sad will it prove on your side, if force us to such an answer as this.

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Dearly beloved in the Lord, I have now done that work which I came upon; what effect it hath, or will have, upon your hearts, I know not, nor is it any further in my power to accomplish that which my soul desireth for you. Were it the Lord's will that I might have my wish herein, the words that you have this day heard should so stick by you that the secure should be awakened by them, and none of you should perish by the slighting of your salvation. I can not now follow you to your several habitations to apply this word to your particular necessities; but O that I could make every man's conscience a preacher to himself that it might do it, which is ever with you! That the next time you go prayerless to bed, or about your business, conscience might cry out, Dost thou set no more by

Christ and thy salvation? That the next time you are tempted to think hardly of a holy and diligent life (I will not say to deride it as more ado than needs), conscience might cry out to thee, Dost thou set so light by Christ and thy salvation? That the next time you are ready to rush upon known sin, and to please your fleshly desires against the command of God, conscience might cry out, Is Christ and salvation no more worth than to cast them away, or venture them for thy lusts? That when you are following the world with your most eager desires, forgetting the world to come, and the change that is a little before you, conscience might cry out to you, Is Christ and salvation no more worth than so? That when you are next spending the Lord's day in idleness or vain sports, conscience might tell you what you are doing. In a word, that in all your neg lects of duty, your sticking at the supposed labor or cost of a godly life, yea, in all your cold and lazy prayers and performances, conscience might tell you how unsuitable such endeavors are to the reward; and that Christ and salvation should not be so slighted. I will say no more but this at this time, It is a thousand pities that when God hath provided a Saviour for the world, and when Christ hath suffered so much for their sins, and made so full a satisfaction to justice, and purchased so glorious a kingdom for his saints, and all this is offered so freely to sinners, to lost, unworthy sinners, even for nothing, that yet so many millions should everlastingly perish because they make light of their Saviour and salvation, and prefer the vain world and their lusts before them. I have delivered my message, the Lord open your hearts to receive it. I have persuaded you with the word of truth and soberness; the Lord persuade you more effectually, or else all this is lost. Amen.

DISCOURSE SEVENTEENTH.

JOHN BUNYAN.

THE "Shakspeare among divines," as Bunyan has been justly termed, was born in the year 1628, at Elstow in Bedfordshire, the son of a traveling tinker. In his youth he led a wandering and dissipated life, and though frequently convicted of sin, it was not until twenty-five years of age that he found peace in believing; at which time he joined a dissenting Baptist Church in Bedford. Three years subsequent he became a preacher of the Gospel; and after the Restoration, in common with many others, he suffered much from the cruel persecutions under the reign of that unprincipled tyrant, Charles the Second, and was finally thrown into Bedford jail, where he was immured for nearly thirteen years, and where he wrote, among other works, the "Pilgrim's Progress." Upon his release he resumed preaching, and was very popular; attracting immense congregations, whether in his own meeting-house at Bedford, or on his visits to London and other places. After sixty years of hardship, persecution, and unwearied toil, he ended his labors August 31st, 1688, and went up to sit down with the shining ones of the Celestial City.

The world has never seen a more strongly marked character than JOHN BUNYAN. He stands out, by himself alone, formed after no model, and resembling, in many points, no other man, whether in times ancient or modern. Baxter owed little to the education of the schools, Bunyan still less. God's providence was the school where Bunyan was educated; and almost the only books which he studied were nature and his own heart, and the Bible. God made him what he was. In the whole superstructure of his majestic character, the touch of a human hand is scarcely seen. "The Spirit of God was his teacher; the very discipline of his intellect was a spiritual discipline, the conflicts that his soul sustained with the powers of darkness were the sources of his intellectual strength."

Bunyan is best known from his unique allegory-the "Pilgrim's Progress"—the like of which is not found in the literature of any age; and upon which have been lavished the praises of the best scholars and crit

ics, as well as of the delighted multitude. But all his writings-and they are very extensive, enough to fill three royal octavo double-column volumes -show him to have been a man of the highest originality of genius. His sparkling thoughts are in racy, vigorous English-the words of the people, the pure beauties of the good old Saxon tongue-and they come welling out like the limpid waters of the mountain streamlet. Bunyan was in love with nature; and every form and figure that fell upon his cameralike mind is revealed again in glowing life in his writings, the more charming because tinged with his own brilliant imagination. Add to this that he always wrote, not from the "dried specimens of earlier collectors," but from the "glowing records of his own consciousness and experience, the fruits of grace and plants of righteousness, blooming and fragrant in the watered garden of his own heart," and it is not surprising that Bunyan has come to be regarded as among the very first preachers and writers which any age or country has produced. The following is from one of his very long discourses, and is a fair example of his style of preaching.

THE BARREN FIG-TREE; OR, THE DOOM AND DOWN-FALL OF THE FRUITLESS PROFESSOR.

"And he answering, said unto him, Lord let it alone this year also, till I shall dig about it, and dung it; and if it bear fruit, well; and if not, then after that, thou shalt cut it down."-LUKE Xiii.: 8, 9.

These are the words of the Dresser of the vineyard, who, I told you, is Jesus Christ. (For "He made intercession for the transgressors.") And they contain a petition presented to offended justice, praying, that a little more time and patience might be exercised toward the barren cumber-ground fig-tree.

In this petition there are six things considerable. 1. That justice might be deferred. "O that justice might be deferred! Lord, let it alone, etc., a while longer." 2. Here is time prefixed, as a space to try if more means will cure a barren fig-tree. "Lord, let it alone this year also." 3. The means to help it are propounded; "till I shall dig about it, and dung it." 4. Here is also an insinuation of a supposition that by thus doing God's expectation may be answered: "and if it bear fruit, well." 5. Here is a supposition that the barren fig-tree may yet abide barren, when Christ has done what he will unto it: "and if it bear fruit," etc. 6. Here is at last a resolution, that if thou continue barren, hewing days will come upon thee: