whose consciences have been awakened, have relapsed again into the stupidity of sin.

My hearers, I wish not to pry into the secrecies of your private experience; but sure I am that some of you have felt, more than you now do, the solemn, the overwhelming necessity of personal religion. Merciful God! how should it be otherwise? You, who are carrying about with you immortal souls-you, who are walking on the washed and wasted isthmus of time, unprovided with a hope for eternity-you, who have read the Bible, and listened to sermons, and stood by the beds of the dying, and the graves of the dead,-how should you not have felt the solemnity of your perilous situation? How should you not have shuddered to the very core of the heart, when God has spared you a little longer, and a little longer, up to this hour, and you, in return for His mercy, have forgotten your fears, and broken your promises, and rushed forward with new hardihood on the horrible highway of death? Say not that I am dealing in the language of fancy. If there be truth in Heaven, it is no fancy ;-some of you know it is not; some of you could point back to the hour when you wept bitterly over your sins, when you saw the precipice on which you were trembling, and sought the relief of secret prayer, and were almost persuaded to be Christians! And where are you now? Halt, I beseech you, for one moment, and ask how the case now stands between God and your souls! Have you returned to the beggarly elements of the world? Are your anxieties dismissed, and your tears dried? After all that Christ Jesus has done for you, shall he wind up the terrific drama, by thundering in your ears, "Ephraim is joined to his idols, -let him alone?" But there are many, no doubt, who have never known these convictions; for I can testify, in the fourth place, that a large number of this con. gregation have gone through the past year apparently with no feeling about religion, except a most obdurate and inflexible indifference. We may approach them, indeed, with the arguments of Christianity, and they assent, or with its convenience, and they perceive, or with its ethics, and they admire; and thus far they will give us the hand of their cordiality. But the moment any thing like experimental piety is brought up, they demur at once, and not only demur, but absolutely put away from them the whole religiousness of the Bible, with all that is binding in its au. thority, and all that is personal in its application.

My hearers, I know not how to assail this sultry composure of impenitence, for I know not from what it springs. Do you imagine that the preacher rises in the sanctuary to amuse or to excite you? Do you look upon Inspiration as a mere picture of morals, over which he throws the coloring or drapery which may chance to suit the style of his rhetoric? If not, what is the reason that doctrines, which, if true, might almost move a heart of adamant to excitement, are heard day after day with so little emotion? Surely, if an angel were to light upon our earth, he would suppose, of some of us, that we expected Christ Jesus to appear incarnate, and walk through our streets. He would say that we were waiting for the crimsoned and agonizing scenes of Calvary to be acted over again for our redemption. In fact, I have sometimes thought myself, that there are those among us who never will feel the urgencies of religion, till the Son of Man does appear in the splendors of the judgment; and if at other times I have a better hope, it is not because I rely on any human instrumentalities, but simply and entirely because "the Lord God omnipotent reigneth."

Now, my hearers, what, upon the whole, is the substance of the message which the great Captain of Salvation has received to-day from this part of Mount Zion? Is it not true-and if true, is it not most solemn and alarming? Is it not calculated to throw us, one and all, upon our knees, before God, for the outpouring of His Spirit, and the visitations of His grace? I know, indeed, there are some feelings which this anniversary brings along with it of a gladsome kind. We cannot forget that Providence has shed over our infant Church the smiles of a protecting patronage. We cannot repress our recollections of the distinguished liberality which has reared this house of our worship. But when we go further when we leave the generosities of the congregation, and take a census of the real disciples of Christ, the heart sickens and sinks.

There is an incident, my hearers, related of the apostle John, which I have often thought of when standing in this desk.* We are told, that upon one of his missionary excursions in the decline of life, he became strongly attached to a youth of very rare accomplishments. As might be supposed, he pressed upon him the doctrines of the Gospel, till at last his efforts were crowned with seeming success. The young man was baptised, entered the communion of the Church, and lived for some time as a Christian; but, at length, seduced by bad examples, he dropped all his religious pretensions, and went on from step to step, till he was chosen the leader of a band of robbers. When St. John passed that way again, he learned the catastrophe of his favorite, and was pointed to a neighboring mountain where he was said to harbor. Thither the aged apostle hurried, and, having been seized by some of the band, requested to be led to their captain. The moment the young man saw him, he attempted to make off, but the apostle called after him, and persuaded him to stop. The robber stood still, and trembled, and hid his convulsed face in his hands, and sobbed aloud, till, finally, the venerable saint, by his prayers and tears,

* See McChord's Last Appeal, p. 185.

prevailed upon him to return to the fold of a deserted Saviour.

And, my brethren, are there not many here who bear a resemblance to that youthful delinquent? Are there not many the children of baptism and prayer, who have been nursed in the arms of piety, and trained to the observances of religion, and yet are now wandering in cheerless exile from the Church of Christ?

Everywhere, indeed, I see the embellishments of visible morality, but I look in vain for the anxious eye, the throbbing bosom, the inquiring tongue, to betoken the pursuit of experimental godliness. In vain have you heard the story of the Cross. In vain has the friend of sinners thrown open the kingdom of Heaven, and hung out to you the signals of encouragement and invitation. Yet, all of you, or nearly all, have been taught to remember your Creator in the days of your youth; and though I cannot speak to you with the reclaiming pathos of the ancient disciple, I can say, you still have the offer of pardon. I can say, that even while you are a great way off, you have a Father in Heaven who is willing to run and fall upon your necks and welcome you back to the ranks of a rejoicing family. Come, then, for all things are now ready. Come and make your peace with God, and set about the business of eternity. Come and drink of the waters of life, and when next the Son of Man shall inquire, "Watchman, what of the night?" O let the answer ring through the celestial world, that the morning has appeared,-that the day has dawned, and the day-spring, from on high, has visited us with the light and the glory of salvation.

SERMON XXXI.*

"The righteous hath hope in his death."

Proverbs, xiv., 32.

NEXT to the salvation of men, the loftiest aim of Christianity is to strip the grave of its terrors. This is exclusively her work. She has performed it unaided. It is an achievement peculiarly her own; and while we approach, once more, the table she has spread before us, I know of no subject better calculated to awaken in us a gratitude befitting the solemnities of the occasion. The truth is, whether we are, or are not, the children of God, we must die. With that point religion has nothing to do; but it has much to do with the manner of dying. It lends to the followers of Christ a triumph which is found nowhere else ; they, like the rest of the world, are walking down to the sepulchre, but, unlike the rest of the world, they carry with them the promise of our text, to cheer them as they go along, and to shed over their path the light of its encouragement and consolation. Aside, therefore, from any further reason, the subject of death accords impressively with the design of a Communion Sabbath. But we have another inducement for selecting it, which you can easily divine. One of our number, who looked forward with joy to this day, has bidden us farewell; and in her place, we see only the badges of mourning. How solemn, my hearers, is the dispensation! How loud and alarming is the voice which issues from her vacated seat, "Be ye also ready!" Alarming, did I say? Why should it alarm you, to exchange a vale of tears for the welcoming bosom of a Savi

* Preached on Communion Sabbath, after the death of Mrs. Brand.