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reign, all ranks of his people crowded with one accord into the house of their God, and bowed their heads in thankfulness, that their " Father was yet alive," and prayed that his setting sun might go down in unclouded glory. Years have passed since that proud day of a nation's joy, our Father continued, indeed, to live-but he lived no more to his people!-How mysterious are the ways of Heaven, yet how productive, amid all their darkness of religious thought, even of religious gratitude! How awful the reflection, that there is no station, no wisdom, no virtue, which can a moment secure the Mind of Man from that living death in which all its feelings and faculties are thrown back into the first chaos of existence, and in which it must work its dreary way through a blank and a confusion, far more terrible to the eye of ima

and darkness, and How wonderful this

gination than the dust, corruption of the grave! dispensation, at the very moment, too, when the mighty events of his reign were drawing to their grand close,-when the conflict, over which his firm spirit had so nobly presided, was reaching its proud consummation, when triumphs were preparing for his arms far beyond those

of any former age, or than any the wildest flights of fancy could have feigned,-when all the Sovereigns of Europe were crowding with their laurels of victory to lay them as an offering at his feet, and to receive his blessing as the bless-' ' ing of their common Father, when the Spoiler of nations, whose ambition would have burst the globe, was about to throw himself upon His mercy, and to be conveyed in his ships to that speck of earth in which he was yet to be permitted to breathe,-that all this wondrous pageant was to pass unnoticed around Him, and the sounds of triumph were to ring in every ear but His, and that to him alone, of all the myriads of his people, no voice of joy or gratulation could come!

Yet, in the heaviest dispensations of Heaven, there is ever room for thankfulness. Even in that dark abstraction of the soul from all present perceptions, it seems, at times, to be conveyed into a higher and purer region. In as far as the veil which surrounded him has been withdrawn, his spirit, we are assured, was tranquil and serene; it dwelt much among the images of his early years, and the society of those who had thrown off mortality-and it ever

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continued to repose in cheerful dependence on the sure mercies of his Saviour, and his God! Nor can we but feel grateful, that, in the sanctuary of his retreat, he was spared many a severe pang. Upon Him alone, that heavy calamity did not alight, which rent the hearts of his people, and which, in the acuteness of its agony, would far more than have counterbalanced to him all the long glories of his reign. He was not doomed to witness the protracted sufferings, and the final departure of Her whose heart had, from his youthful years, been knit with his : he knew not that a Son had preceded him to the grave; and it was his peculiar happiness, not to be conscious whom he had lost upon earth, till he found them all restored to him in Heaven!

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He has, at length, left us, being" old and full of days," and we now resign him in humble confidence to that Saviour in whom he trusted, and to that God whom he worshipped and served. May his spirit ever continue to dwell with his House, and to bind to it more and more the loyalty of our affections! May that SON, who, borne down by filial and fraternal sorrow, had almost followed his

Father and Brother in death, be long preserved to us to follow them in his life, and to adorn the British Throne alike with the virtues, and the manners of a King! May He find in the consolations of religion that peace of God, which his Father found, and which passeth all understanding; and amidst those afflictions which have gathered in no common form around his bereaved head, may He hear the voice which says, "unto thee will I give in mine house, and within my walls, a place, and a name, better than of sons and of daughters!"

I have detained you, my brethren, too long, and yet the duty of the day is not complete. We have contemplated the shining virtues of Him who has now gone to reap his reward. They were for many years the light of the world around him; "a city set on an hill that cannot be hid!" It becomes us, then, to ask our own hearts, in what respect have we profited from the example of this long reign of virtue? Is our faith firm? our piety fervent and sincere? our conduct regulated by steady principle? our domestic manners upright and pure? our desires and affections ever in unison with the law of God, and our Saviour? Is it not so,

my brethren? Then let us weep, not for Him, but for ourselves and our children!

And while

in this solemn season of repentance, we are

bending around his venerated tomb, let us bring, rated tomb. as the tribute most congenial to his pious spirit, the tears of penitent and contrite hearts e

Let

MOITON H4 10 6021 us rend our heart, and not our garments, and turn unto the Lord our God, that, so worthily lamenting our private and national sins, and acknowledging our manifold wretchednes, we, and all the people of our land, may obtain of the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness through Jesus Christ our Lord! mo