action. Indolent and restless observers were not to be expected to discern either the strength or the excellence of his character. He did not rouse their languid attention by occasional and disproportionate displays of any prominent faculty; he conscientiously strove to exercise all which, even naturally, existed in a harmony much more admirable than dazzling.

But, perhaps, I am straying into the biographer's province. The closing period of his life was ushered in by two events which gave it a colouring peculiar to itself. A paralytic stroke, which, although it had not the effect on the mental powers so often attending that disease, cut off from the first every expectation of returning to public life, was soon followed by the removal of the partaker in his parental affections and his parental sorrows. Of her I may less trust Few could know what

myself to speak than even of him. he had found, and what he lost in her. The dissolving for earth of this union of thirty-four years was needful to give its intended weight to that desolation of the "outward man," in which it was judged fit that his closing days should be spent. He continued to reap the advantage of his established habits in a quiet regularity of employment, most conducive to mental health in such a bodily state. He experienced kindness from many friends, peculiar devotedness of affection from some, whom it would be pleasant here to name, if such were the fitting expression of his sense of their love. But, benumbed in his limbs, depressed in animal spirits, having but one member of his own family a constant resident under his roof, and that one suffering and enfeebled by illness like himself; he evidently felt the season to be given for humbling and melting, for settling his desires and his faith more exclusively on the treasure that is in heaven. He grew in gentleness, and meekness, and poverty of spirit. Among his last words, when he was aware

of no mortal auditor, were difficult but earnest utterances of his desires before God for his people, and their children, and for himself, of faith in the blood of Christ; and his last breath went forth in prayer.

A. J. SCOTT.

SERMONS.

SERMON I..

JOB Xxxii. 7.—“ I said, Days should speak, and multitude of years should teach wisdom."

WISDOM is the right application of useful knowledge. In this discourse, it signifies true religion; which is the practical and saving knowledge of God revealed in the Scriptures. To know the living and true God, and Jesus Christ whom he hath sent, is the most useful knowledge, is life eternal. This, too, is "the wisdom that cometh from above, and is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and of good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy." And it is the word of God only which is able to make men thus "wise unto salvation." This wisdom, including the sublimest knowledge, united with a corresponding temper and behaviour, must, according to the ordinary dispensation of grace, be acquired gradually by men, naturally alienated from God through the

A

And

ignorance that is in them, and cannot be acquired in the same degree by men who differ in opportunities, and in original capacity, as much as in stature and in features. But it is expected that the religious improvement of every man should be proportionate to his abilities, years, and opportunities. To the aged are we referred, as to sage commentators on the word and providence of God. the laws and the customs of all nations enjoin reverence to those advanced in life, more particularly when they are persons of rank in the community. Hence, our grievous disappointment when age and distinction are not accompanied by a suitable measure of true wisdom. Hence, too, a painful alteration in our behaviour to those above us, in these respects, as soon as their deficiencies are discovered. If, on important occasions, we wait for solid instruction and exemplary conduct from them, and if they justly offend by many ill-founded assertions, equally at variance with true godliness and brotherly love, and by much unseemly behaviour, duty obligeth us to withdraw, in a respectful manner, not that outward deference we ever owe to age and station, but that confidence in their judgment, that homage of the heart, which belong to rank and years adorned with true wisdom. We pass by the aged but blasted thorn with an emotion compounded of respect and pity; we take shelter under the shady branches of the venerable oak, when we seek protection from the sun or the shower.

Of this expectation and disappointment, the pas sage containing the text furnishes a striking illustration. Long had Elihu waited for that display of true wisdom, in its most perfect form, for which the character, and years, and condition, of Job and his friends, taught him to look, for which the interesting occasion of their meeting, and the important subject of their conversation, made a loud demand. His reasonable expectations were not answered. These respectable persons displayed much wisdom, it is true; but they also discovered very deplorable defects both of knowledge and of temper. This emboldened Elihu, notwithstanding his youth, to become the advocate of the integrity of Job, and of the rectitude of God. In the beginning of his discourse, he apologizeth for his attempt with modest intrepidity; and in the text, which forms part of his apology, he expresseth his grievous disappointment: "I said, days should speak, and multitude of years should teach wisdom."

This expectation extendeth to every one of us; and if it be founded in reason and revelation, as it seems to be, our answering of it involves our happiness, as our disappointing of it does our misery. Are not we, therefore, deeply interested in this inquiry, what are the grounds of the expectation in the text, viz. that the religious improvement of every man should correspond to his abilities, years, and opportunities? The result of this inquiry will lead us to examine our own attainments, and should