My hearers, mark the apostle. He reasoned of righteousness-for he spoke to a man, who, in addition to his general avidity for wealth, was at that very moment keeping him confined, in hope of a reward for his liberation. He reasoned of temperance-for he spoke to a man who had there by his side a living witness that no ties were toa sacred for him to burst, and no passion too debased for him to cherish. He reasoned of a judgment to come-for he spoke to a man, who, however his official standing might shield him from human punishment, would one day appear at the tribunal of Christ, to answer for the influence of his example, and the aggravation of his guilt. Such are the outlines of the apostle's address. The sacred volume has not furnished us with the details. For these we must resort to the few hints disclosed by the text, applied to the characters and circumstances of those for whom they were intended. He reasoned of righteousness, a term sometimes, perhaps, commonly regulated in its meaning by the exigency of the passage in which it stands. It seems here to be contrasted more immediately with that sordid and mercenary spirit which had prompted Felix unjustly to protract the imprisonment of his captive. Now, my hearers, although this specific act can never again be performed, the temper by which it was dictated, may still be found. It is found in every improper method for becoming rich. To neglect the duties of religion for the speculations of trade-to devote the Sabbath to the counting-room, instead of the sanctuary -to take advantage of the misfortunes and necessities of others, and then, with a disposition which always accompanies this, to cling, with the grasp of death, to a property that ought ever to be laid at the foot of the Cross. What is this but the very same spirit which St. Paul reprobated in Felix? I do not mean that the Gospel of Christ imposes restraints upon the acquisition of wealth; so far from that, we are encouraged, we are instructed, to adopt every expedient, which the Bible will warrant, for extending our usefulness, and increasing our enjoyments. But when the love of money absorbs those affections which are due to God alone-when it leads us to conduct over which a death-bed will extort the anguish of remorse-when it deafens the ear to the cry of the widow and the orphan-when it erects an intrenchment around the heart which frowns back the approach of indigence, and the plea of suffering and distress, then it is that we ought to exchange places with the Roman deputy, and tremble under the lesson which St. Paul thundered to his conscience. For, after all, my hearers, what is wealth when acquired or retained with feelings such as these? Literally a curse instead of a blessing, enhancing our responsibility, without promoting our happiness. Just follow to the solemnity of a dying hour, the man who has obtained his money by forgetting his Saviour, and, not content with this, has withheld it from the claims of religion and humanity. Why does he turn pale, and quiver like an aspen, when he stands on the edge of the grave? Why has the bed of down, the silken canopy, the ornamented chamber, so often attested the anguish of unpardoned guilt? Why have we heard, even from the lips of expiring royalty itself, "Millions, millions of treasure for an inch of time." To this solemn hour, each of us, my hearers, is hasteningan hour we ought ever to remember, when a single shilling, unjustly obtained, will weigh like a mountain on the soul; and when all that we can call our own, will be what we have given for the relief of the wretched, and the advancement of the kingdom of Christ.

The apostle reasoned of temperance. You can imagine what he said. You recollect the two individuals to whom he spoke, and the relations they sustained towards each other. And if his fidelity did not shrink from the trial to which it was then called, you can imagine also what he would have said, had he been preaching in some of our large towns and cities, where a moment's glance may detect any grade of licentiousness, from its most desperate to its most mitigated form. He would have examined that defence of it so boldly urged, and so often appealed to, which pleads the implantation of passions in the human breast, as an apology for their indulgence. He would have taught us that the opinion had originated not from religion, nor morality, nor sober reflection, but from that convenient principle which induces us, after the commission of any deliberate sin, to hunt up considerations to palliate or justify our conduct. He would have told us, that if such sentiments were generally reduced to practice, they would not only call down the curse of God-not only blight all the endowments of the domestic relations, but they would wither society like the Samael of the desert. He would have reminded us that if there be any thing sacred beyond the immediate enclosure of religion, it is the marriage covenant. Unequivocally, therefore, to profane this sanctuary of human life, not merely by a violation of its holiness, but by indulgences, which its sanction alone can justify,indulgences commonly, indeed, secluded from observation by the shelter of appropriate darkness, but sometimes adopted and retained in the very face of day, I say it is to set at defiance all that is binding in moral obligation, and all that is valuable and dear in the social compact. And then, that men should throw the blame on their Maker by pleading the tendencies which He has interwoven with their constitution! As well might the drunkard plead the craving appetite in extenuation of his beastly debaucheries. As well might the midnight assassin find an apology for his guilt in the damning disposition which drove him to contract it. No, my hearers, there is nothing in the nature of our own propensities-nothing in the silence, or in the sanction of public opinion, which can palliate an approach even to the frontiers of licentiousness. It debases the heart-it corrupts and debilitates the mind. If I may say so, it unhumanises man; and no matter in what community it may be found, or by what examples it may be defended, or under what pretexts or plausibilities it may be sheltered, it never did and never will prevail, unless linked in, sooner or later, with the most tremendous woes that Omnipotence can shed on his apostate world.

The apostle reasoned of a judgment to come, a subject solemnly interesting to all men, but doubly so to those who are invested with the responsibility of influence and rank. I do not wonder, my brethren, that St. Paul improved his opportunity of pressing this point with Felix; for, in the first place, it might have been expected, if he spoke at all, that he would speak the truth; and, in the second, it is with the higher classes of society, most of all, that such considerations are apt to be forgotten, or if occasionally remembered, to be dispatched with little investigation, and less anxiety. Now, if this judgment to come be a reality, and not a fable; if it be a doctrine of inspiration, and not a dream of mythological poetry; it is certain that those who, by moving in an elevated circle, have possessed the means of more extensive usefulness, will find an accumulated account to settle at a future day. Far be it from me to denounce refinement of manners, or the accomplishments of education, or the elegance of polished hospitality. Separated from that genteel, hypocritical, and hollow-hearted insincerity, which is too often swept under the name of fashion, I rejoice in them. But, O when I look at the magnificence of that wealth on which the houseless wanderer may gaze in vain, till the famishings of hunger have emaciated his body, and the coldness of death has begun in his extremities; when I see that accomplishment, and beauty, and loveliness, devoted to the decorations of dress, and bewildered by the pursuit of amusement, which might be bending over the couch of decrepitude and pain, and cheering the loneliness of unbe. friended poverty, and consoling the distress of helpless and desponding widowhood, and instructing the ignorance of unprotected orphanage, and wiping the tear from the cheek of affliction, and pointing the eye of the expiring sufferer to the rest that remaineth for the people of God; when I find men of intelligence and talents, men who can so easily inform the mind, and interest the feelings, and captivate the heart; when I see them absorbed in the concerns of the world, with not a prayer to raise to their Saviour, not even a tear to shed over his sufferings, and apparently as unmoved and secure as if they had made a compromise with God; and when I see the poor, the humble, the illiterate of both sexes, looking up to their superiors, watching all their movements, and moulded, especially in sin, by their examples, O, I cannot repress the recollection that there is a judgment to come, when the rich and the poor meet together, and when God, in the presence of an assembled universe, will verify His declaration, that " to whom much has been given, of him will much be required."

Felix trembled. Felix was a man, but the hardihood of his character gave way. He was an heathen; he had never sat under the droppings of the sanctuary, but he had a conscience. Drusilla was a woman, but the tenderness of her sex remained unmelted. She was a Jewess. She had been cradled in the principles of religion, but she heard the preacher without emotion, and without remorse. Felix trembled; and we learn in the sequel that he sent the apostle away. How inconsistent is guilt. If he disbelieved what his prisoner said, why did he tremble? And if he believed it, why did he send him away? Because that prisoner had