One part of this description represents old age as impairing the mind.

This is meant by the sun, moon and stars being darkened. The light of the soul, if it be not entirely put out, is obscured; and nothing remains of its former lustre, but a gloomy, glimmering twilight. The apprehension of the aged is not so clear, nor their memory so strong, nor their affections so lively, as formerly; there is a visible and melancholy decay in all these faculties. They are incapable of bearing a part in common conversation. They ask the same questions again and again and at last but very imperfectly understand you, if they have not forgotten it, before you have time to give them an answer. Their memory fails, first as to names, then with respect to faces, and afterwards with regard to every thing else. They forget their nearest relations, and best-beloved friends; and even their own children appear to them as strangers. Scarcely, any thing remains on the worn-out faculty, but some of the stronger impressions of youth. They relate over and over, some of the more remarkable events of early life, as circumstantially and gravely, as if they happened but yesterday. At times, they seem sensible of their condition; and at the sight of a particular friend, labour for words to express their pleasure: but, after repeated efforts, they signify, by a flood of tears, a vacant smile, and a most expressive silence, their inability to do it. They take no notice of what passes in this world: even their own domestic cares cannot engage their attention. The most interesting and disastrous events, which formerly would almost have broken their hearts, are now no more than a

pebble thrown into the water, which ruffles the surface for a moment, but quickly leaves it smooth as before, What is still more affecting, they sometimes lose all sense of the other world as well as of this. Instead of that desire of the means of grace, and delight in them, which they formerly experienced, Sabbaths and other days seem now alike. Their mornings and evenings, which for a long course of years, they had regularly spent in their closets, praying to their Father, who seeth in secret, those sacred hours now pass off as common time; not only without devotion, but almost without thought. This is old age, which young people are pleasing themselves with the hope of attaining.

It also enfeebles the body. Every part feels and shows it. What a collection of beautiful metaphors has the Preacher brought together, to represent the decay of this earthly, tabernacle! It commences in some earlier than in others; and sometimes one organ fails first, and sometimes another. But the first symptom which the Preacher takes notice of, is the shaking of the hands. The keepers of the house tremble. The hands, by which the body is defended and maintained, and which, in young healthy people, are strong and steady, as old age comes on, grow feeble and paralytic; and sometimes to such a degree, as to render them even unable to feed themselves. Then the strong men bow themselves. The legs and thighs, which are the main pillars of the building, bend, and give way, and can no longer support their accustomed weight. See how they go, with shortened steps, and a stooping, tottering gait; first using one stick, then two; and then not able to walk at aH. What

makes their confinement more irksome is, that those who look out of the windows are darkened their sight fails; they can now only distinguish persons by their voices; they cannot help themselves to any thing they want; and which, to many, is the most grievous of all, they are unable to read the Bible: this used to be their refuge in trouble, and their song in the house of their pilgrimage, but is now to them as a sealed book, unless when, by the kindness of others, they sometimes have an opportunity of hearing a chapter.-I might easily enlarge the catalogue of bodily infirmities; but these are sufficient to show the total and pitiable helplessness of old age, in which young people are hoping to find pleasure.

It also lessens and embitters the comforts of life. "Desire fails." Persons thus advanced in age, no longer delight in those things which are highly grateful and entertaining to others, and once were so to themselves. Those objects, which all the world besides gaze at with admiration, old people look upon with perfect indifference. Even the sight of their relations, if they be able to see them, whom they once tenderly loved, is now as nothing to them; and when they are absent, they inquire not after them, for they do not find them wanting. Endeavour to entertain them with the sweetest strains of melody they hear as if they heard not, for the daughters of music are brought low. Invite them to the grandest feast, and set before them the things which they were particularly fond of; they turn away with disgust, for the grinders cease, because they are few. In such a manner Barzillai describes the effects of old age. "I am this day fourscore years old, and can I discern between good and evil? Can

thy servant taste what I eat or drink?

Can I hear

any more the voice of singing men or singing women? Wherefore then should thy servant be yet a burden to my Lord the king?"-So insipid are all the delights of sense to an old person, and yet this is the state in which young people expect to find pleasure!

Besides this, it multiplies and increases the troubles of life.

Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward. Every stage of life has its share; and they who live longest, often suffer most. They bury friend after friend, till at length they find themselves surrounded by strangers, alike unknown and unknowing. They not only outlive their acquaintance, but in a manner they outlive themselves. They are not what formerly they were. They have lost the vigour and sprightliness both of body and mind; and cannot bear trouble so well as they could. The grasshopper is a burden; and they rise at the voice of the bird. The least noise breaks their rest; and when once awake, they are impatient to get up. A little accident sometimes puts them out of humour; and forgetting their own weakness, they impute their uneasiness to the want of tenderness and dexterity in those who attend them. The clouds return after the rain. One ailment follows another,like a continual dropping in a rainy day; and between real disorders and imaginary grievances, they are almost perpetually complaining. Yet young people will flatter themselves with the hopes of finding pleasure, where the old meet with nothing but trouble?

I shall only add, approaching death.

that it is the sure prognostic of Their earthly tabernacle begins

to grow ruinous. The foundations are destroyed: and there are so many cracks and crevices in the walls, that it shakes with every blast; so that any one may perceive, that it will very soon tumble. If young persons by any accidental disorder, be reduced to a great degree of weakness, they may, by care and medicine, under the blessing of God, be recovered, and enjoy a stay of confirmed health for many years after. But old people can have no such expectations; their constitutions are worn out beyond the possibility of repair, and every little shock threatens and hastens unavoidable dissolution.

I say not that all old persons feel all these inconveniences. Caleb was fourscore and five years old, and yet he says of himself, "I am as strong this day as I was on the day that Moses sent me. As my strength was then, even so is my strength now, for war, both to go out, and to come in." Moses was a hundred. and twenty years old when he died; and yet we are told that "his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated." Now and then, among ourselves, we see one of a hale constitution, sound understanding, warm affections, and lively graces, in very advanced life; and it is a special mercy to have their descent into the vale of years so gradual, that a state, which is burdensome and afflictive to many, should be easy to them. to them. Surely they who are thus privileged, have great reason for thankfulness; and those who labour under infirmities, are to be pitied, and treated with singular tenderness.

But having sympathized with them in their griefs, let us imagine them entered upon their heavenly enjoyments. What a pleasing surprise must it be to