how do I know but the avenger of blood
may, not-
withstanding, drag me away, and destroy me! I
know that there is no other place where I can take
refuge with the least probability of security; and I
therefore hope and determine to continue where I
am. But whether or not I am here entirely out of
danger, God only knows." You see, then, that if
Christ had only been proposed in the word as the
means of salvation, without any express assurance of
God's consent and acceptance, though the believer
might have been safe, he could not have been com-
fortable. He might have been justified by faith, but
he never could be filled with joy and peace in believ-
ing. Though we are to look to Christ's personal
abilities,and may warrantably draw strong consolation
from his perfections, yet it is a blessed confirmation
of our faith, that we can look also to the express ap-
pointment of God, and have the most indisputable
evidence, that, "Him hath God the Father sealed."
Christ was appointed to make atonement on earth, and
intercession in heaven; and therefore he is able to
save to the uttermost all that come to God by him.
After this awfully interesting subject, let me put
the question round; and inquire, whether you have
turned to this strong hold. Have you; or have you?

have fled to this refuge, are possessing your souls

Some of you, I believe, and, in consequence of it, in patience in the midst of the present confusion. You are resting, and rejoicing, in the Lord; and are not afraid of any evil tidings. Others, I believe, are so far alarmed, as to wish that they were secured in this strong hold, and can think of nothing else but how to get there as soon as possible. But I fear that

others, though ruin hangs over them, and they know not what a day may bring forth, are to this hour as easy and unconcerned, as if it were a time of perfect tranquillity, and their temporal and spiritual concerns were both safe and prosperous. I would speak a word or two to each of such characters separately; and as the danger is pressing, and will admit of no delay, I will address myself,

In the first place, to those who are secure in Satan's confinement. You have heard something of your misery, but you are not affected by it; and if I were to repeat all that I have said, and to say much more of your danger, it would, perhaps, scarcely give you one moment's uneasiness. Yet I cannot leave you in this condition, without one effort more to set you free; or at least to kindle in your souls a desire of liberty. You, perhaps, hardly thank me for my labour. You are happy as you are, and in your hearts prefer the chains of Satan to the service of Christ. One thing, however, let me tell you; (and I do not speak it at random, or because I envy you your present guilty mirth :) as surely as God is in heaven, the pleasures of sin are but for a season. The liberty which you glory in, is all as imaginary as the dignity of the poor fettered lunatic in his straw, who supposes himself to be a king on his throne. The pleasures that you are so fond of, do but cover the hook, or sweeten the poison, which are designed for your ruin. Satan would not let you have your enjoyments, but only that he might more effectually keep you quiet, till he has gotten you more effectually into the bottomless pit, whence he knows there will be no possibility of escaping. Then he, whom you now

you

choose for your master, and mistake for your friend, because he prompts you to your sinful indulgences, will appear to have been always your greatest enemy, and from a tempter he will be turned into a dreadful tormentor. You will not believe me at present; I wish would. The time allotted for treaty wears away apace. God seems to be rising out of his place, and to be turned away from us, as if he were about to depart, and then, Wo, Wo to you. For if He go, all goes; ministers go, the Spirit goes; nay, even your worldly possessions and comforts go; and if your life be given you for a prey, you may be destitute, afflicted, and tormented. Well, who can tell but God may intend that this awful dispensation shall be like the earthquake which shook the prison at Philippi, and was the happy means of converting the jailer? Who can tell but that God, seeing that preaching is vain, that you are proof against the exhortations of ministers, and the invitations of his grace; who can tell, but he may, in mercy to your souls, intend to rouse and recover you by the thundering rebukes of his providence? Who can tell, I say, but war, poverty and pestilence, may be sent to bring you, like the jailer just now mentioned, to the feet of Divine Mercy? Though, perhaps, unmoved by the public preaching of those servants of God, though he could hear them sing so sweetly, while confined in the stocks, without the least tender emotion; yet, when the earth shook under him, and he feared that the walls of the prison would soon crusk him, he sprang in, and came trembling, and fell down before Paul and Silas, and brought them out, saying, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" The very

cup pass from us.

thought of this throws a gleam of light over our present very gloomy prospects. If it be the design of God, by this awful visitation, to rescue your souls from sin and hell, your pious friends, even though they themselves may greatly suffer in the common calamity, will willingly submit. You may hear them, with a truly Christian benevolence, thus pleading in their prayers: "Father, if it be possible, let this Nevertheless, if thou intend by it, to impress the heart of my poor, thoughtless, perishing child, or my dear partner, or parent, or brother, or sister, or friend; if thou design, by this dreadful shaking among the nations, to purify and enlarge thy church, we kiss the rod, and are content to smart under it ourselves for the present. We bow with cheerful submission, if we may but see those whom we love, plucked as brands out of everlasting burnings."

I turn now to those whose fetters begin to gall them, and who are sighing for liberty. "O! we fear (you seem to say) what dismal tidings you are going to tell us; for nothing comfortable have we reason to expect. But if you knew what we feel, you would be convinced, that our distress needs no aggravation. Now we see that the Devil has been amusing us with vanity. He has been fastening chains upon us, which, alas! we cannot, cannot break asunder. No, no: he has us his prisoners, and so he will keep us; for who will attempt to deliver such undeserving wretches as we?" I can tell you of one that will do it; and if you be, indeed, so uneasy as you say, and wish to be delivered, behold I bring you good tidings of great joy: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.

Turn ye, therefore, to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope. Let this gracious proclamation be ever sounding in your ears. Consider it as immediately addressed to you, as if there were not another sinner in the world, but yourselves. You are, as it were, "shut up unto the faith." In our national troubles, God has cut us off from all human dependencies. We look on this side, and on that, but refuge fails us. No one can we call to in our distress to assist us. All stand aloof from us; or, what is worse, still treacherously watch for our halting. I say, God seems to have brought us into such a situation, that we may be constrained to look upward. Every other way of escaping the ruin which threatens us' is shut up, that we may be obliged to take refuge in his merciful bosom. So it is with you, who now labour, and are heavy laden with sin. You are terrified with a bitter sense of God's wrath, and conscious of having de served it; miserable now, yet dreading what is infinitely worse; and conscious of having merited all the misery to which you are exposed. You are willing to flee from the wrath to come, and yet know not what path to pursue; and it seems to you, that nothing remains, but a certain fearful looking for of wrath, and fiery indignation. If, at this critical moment, Christ be presented to you as a strong hold, can you refuse to turn to him for safety? You are convinced, that there is no other way of escaping the damnation of hell; and is not this alone a sufficient inducement? O, turn to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope. You have the greatest encouragement to do it: for he has said, "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." If, from a persuasion of