cannot have failed to remark in our scriptural account of the doctrine, how little we had to say concerning the resurrection of the wicked. The sacred writers have stated scarcely any thing beyond the simple fact. While the rising again of the Saint is maintained with all the earnestness of apostolic zeal, and all the force of inspired argument, that of the sinner, is only slightly touched, and immediately hurried away from. While the future constitutions of the righteous, are described with all the glowing fervour of divine eloquence,-those of the unbelieving and disobedient are left beneath a veil of impenetrable obscurity. While the faculties and employments of redeemed and beatified immortals are again and again announced to us by the spirit of unerring truth,-respecting the faculties and employments of such as die in their sins, there runs throughout almost every part of the system of revelation, an emphatic silence. And while Christianity stands and points to the high mansions of blessedness and glory, into which the bodies of believers are to be introduced on the morning of the final day, she, as it were, keeps the horror, and amazement, and condemnation, and destruction awaiting the guilty and impenitent behind her back. And O, what do these considerations teach you, but that " as the Lord liveth he hath no pleasure in the death of the wicked?" What are they calculated to impress upon you

but that "this is the will of God, even your salvation?" What do they seem to tell you, but that he cannot endure the thought of your perishing body, soul, and spirit? and what effect should they have but to induce you to set your faces heaven-ward like a flint? I beseech you, let them have this effect. I beseech you, let these mercies of God lead you to repentance, and constrain you to obedience. I beseech you, let these striking peculiarities of our system, win you over to the faith of Christ, and the pursuit of holiness. I beseech you, let these significant intimations of the divine disposition toward you, tell upon the sensibilities of your nature; and let them do this "so much the more, as ye see the day approaching."

Lo! where he cometh! the Messiah comes !

The King! the Comforter! the Christ!-He comes
To burst the bonds of death, and overturn

The power of Time.-Hark the trumpet's blast

Rings o'er the heavens! They rise, the myriads riseEven from their graves they spring, and burst the chains Of torpor-He has ransom'd them.

Forgotten generations live again,

Assume the bodily shapes they own'd of old,
Before the flood: the righteous of their times
Embrace and weep, they weep the tears of joy.
The sainted mother wakes, and in her lap
Clasps her dear babe, the partner of her grave,
And heritor with her of heaven,-a flower
Wash'd by the blood of Jesus from the stain
Of native guilt, even in its early bud.

And hark! those strains, how solemnly serene
They fall, as from the skies,-at distance fall-
Again more loud-The Hallelujah's swell;
The newly risen catch the joyful sound;

They glow, they burn; and now with one accord
Bursts forth from every mouth sublime the song
Of praise to God on high, and to the Lamb
Who bled for mortals.1

1 H. K. White.

FINIS.

ERRATA.

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BEFORE THE MONTHLY ASSOCIATION OF CONGREGATIONAL
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AND

Published at their Request.

BY ANDREW REED.

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MDCCC XXIX.

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