an implied reference in the former particulars, but as the weight of the text rests upon it, let it now command our direct and undivided attention.

That thinking principle, my brethren, by which you now attend to this subject, that power within you, which enables you to apprehend, reason and judge; which makes you the subjects of joy and sorrow, of hope and fear, of hatred and love, of every emotion, affection or passion which you feel;-that thinking principle, in every individual who hears me, will live and act for ever. Never, never, will it cease to operate. You cannot look forward to the period when it will be no more-Make the attempt. Task your imagination to the utmost, and fix a point as far off as you can in the endless region of futurity. Over the whole space which divides the present moment from that distant point, each of our souls will actually pass. There we shall at length arrive, and there eternity will still be all before us. Then will this conscious spirit which each of us now feels within him, be even more vigorous and active than at present. We cannot extinguish it, though we were desirous of its annihilation. It cannot terminate its own existence, and no other creature can destroy it. God formed it for immortality, and as long as God himself exists, so long shall you and I, my hearers, continue our existence.

But this is not all. Our existence is not only to remain, but we are, very soon, to change the mode of it, in a very interesting manner. We are here placed in a kind of mixed state. We experience alternate returns of pleasure and pain, and yet we experience neither in the highest degree. But when we pass-as pass we speedily must-the bounds of this mortal life, pleasure and pain, happiness and misery, will be no longer mingled together. They will be entirely separated, and in each of our souls there will be nothing but happiness, or nothing but misery, to all eternity-Nay, it is probable that unmingled happiness, or unmingled misery, will increase upon us, in an endless progression. The powers of the human mind have a kind of expansive propertyThey gradually grow more and more capable of taking in a larger portion of any thing of which they are susceptible. This property, there is reason to believe from analogy, will continue throughout the whole of our existence. If, therefore, we fall into condemnation, increasing anguish may come upon us without end. We may sink, and sink, and sink, from one degree of torment to another, through all the depths of unfathomable wo. The enlarged spirit may be still filling up with anguish, and still expanding to receive a greater measure-Whose soul does not turn sick with horror at this prospect! Yet oh! remember, the prospect will not only be realized, but exceeded, by every one who loses his soul.

On the other hand, he who is saved, may rise perpetually in the scale of happiness and glory. His faculties may constantly grow larger, by partaking of the banquets of heavenly bliss, and drinking to the full of "the waters of life." To his augmented, and perpetually increasing powers, the infinity of the Deity, and the boundless extent and variety of his works and ways, will still afford scope, and still furnish objects new and delightful; so that the point at which Gabriel now stands may, perhaps, my Christian brethren, be reached by you -Nay, without this supposition, it may be shown, that, estimating happiness by quantity, through one of your souls a greater measure of happiness may pass, than all the glorified saints and angels have yet enjoyed. For this sum we know is finite, and in eternity you may ex

haust it all, and be still but entering on the immeasurable bliss which there awaits you. How do these ideas animate and swell the soul! The good seems too great to be real; and we are ready to ask ourselves whether it be a dream or a reality. A reality it is, my brethren, not to be questioned more than your existence-A reality which every child of God who now hears me, shall begin to experience for himself, in a very short space.

Attend, then, to the point, which, from this representation you are called to consider-It is, whether you can think of any thing that should induce you to sacrifice all the happiness, and incur all the misery, of which you have just heard? Can you think of any thing so desirable as the one, and so dreadful as the other? Can you conceive of any possession or enjoyment that you would choose to have, on condition that it should subject you to the torments, and deprive you of the glories, that have been set before you? No-reason and common sense turn instantly with disdain and abhorrence from the thought. Here, then, you unite with the inspired penman and say "The redemptionthe purchase price, of the soul is precious, and it ceaseth forever." Consider, then,

II. That it must be unspeakable folly to exchange it for any consideration or possession whatsoever, on account of which it may be sacrificed.

My brethren, I told you in the entrance of the discourse, that this subject was so plain that it was difficult to illustrate it, and I now feel the full force of the remark. I seem to have anticipated all that can properly fall under this part of my plan-For if the soul be of such immense worth that the whole world is not an equivalent for it; if it far transcends every offer that can be made for its purchase; the conclusion is already formed, and formed with the utmost force, that to exchange or lose it, for any low consideration, is folly for which we have not a name. But alas! still it is a folly often witnessed; and therefore, though it is impossible to add strength to the argument, you must bear with me, while I point out some striking instances of the melancholy fact.

One such instance you see, in those who are devoted to the pleasures of the world. At the shrine of these pleasures their souls are sacrificed. Devoted to that mirth which enchantingly agitates the mind and drowns reflection; or fascinated by that ceaseless round of fashionable amusement which leaves no time for serious thought; or hurried on by the gratification of those appetites which extinguish conscience and sensualize the whole soul; the care, and almost the existence of the soul, is forgotten and disregarded. Suppose then, ye votaries of pleasure, suppose what is not likely to take place-that you enjoy your idol without interruption to the very close of life, and then that you miss the heaven, and sink, as you certainly will, into the hell that has been described-where, I demand it of you, where is the wisdom of your choice? Have you laid your plans for enjoyment aright? Have you not rather acted the part of infatuation? For a few fleeting indulgences, you have lost an interminable and inconceivable happiness, and subjected yourselves to hopeless and endless misery.

Again-The possessions of the world, are another consideration for which thousands of souls are continually bartered away. Bad as the bargain is, wealth is commonly and greedily accepted, in exchange for the immortal part of man. So true and so frequent is this, that we have the authority of omniscience itself to say, that riches and the sal

vation of the soul are only not incompatible-" How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God?" Busied, and burdened, and perplexed, by the cares, exertions and anxieties, by which their worldly interests are to be advanced and wealth secured; or else with their whole thoughts and hearts engrossed and occupied by those contemplations, passions and pursuits, which affluence begets and cherishes, rich men are apt to undervalue and neglect the true riches, and to give themselves for the bribes of the world. Grant them, then, for the sake of a case-grant them the full attainment of the object which they seek. Allow-ye who are so intent on accumulating gain-allow that your most sanguine wishes shall not only be realized, but exceeded. Let it be admitted that you become the very darlings of fortune, and be rich even to a proverb-Admit it all, and then answer me—ye men of calculation, answer, to the plain question of profit and loss, which the Saviour proposes in the text-"What is a man profited though he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul." When the awful sound, which struck the ears of one of your brethren, shall be rung in yours" this night thy soul shall be required of thee;" and when, with another, you shall "lift up your eyes in hell being in torments"-how will your estimates then appear? Ah! you will then discover an error awfully great-an error which it will be forever too late to correct. Your account will then be unchangeably settled. have lost your souls, and you have nothing to give in exchange for them, to redeem them from the prison of despair, whence you cannot escape "till you have paid the uttermost farthing."

You

Again-Another object at which many grasp so as to lose their souls, is "the honour which cometh from man." To be esteemed great and wise, to possess reputation and influence, to be the object of admiration with the living, and secure a name and applause beyond the grave, this is the illusion which enchants a number, and persuades them to resign the hopes of the gospel, in the attempt to seize the phantom. Assume then as a fact the greatest improbability. Imagine that these men who idolize fame, become her most successful and happy votaries. Imagine that they obtain universal admiration and esteem while living, and that their names, when dead, become synonymous with genius, or learning, or wisdom, or patriotism, or heroism-with any thing, or with every thing, in chase of which the soul may be lost -And then tell us-Ye oracles of wisdom, I put the inquiry to yourselves tell us what it will avail you to be praised and envied in this world, when, at that very moment, you shall be tormented with hopeless anguish in the world to come? Will the recollection that your fellow worms are admiring you, sooth the pain of the fire that never shall be quenched? Will the applauses of mortals comfort you under the wrath of God, and a final banishment from his presence? How will the part you have chosen appear in the day of judgment, and at the tribunal of Christ? When you shall be separated to shame and everlasting contempt before the assembled universe, how ineffably foolish will that wisdom appear, which taught you to prefer" the honour which cometh from man, before that which cometh from God only?" Yes, then it will be seen in a stronger light than the truth can now receive, that those who have endured the most contemptuous sneers, the most insulting ridicule, the bitterest scoffs, the most cruel persecution, and death itself, rather than forsake the Saviour, have chosen a portion infinitely desirable and valuable; and that those who have been induced, by any considerations, to desert the cause, or be ashamed of the name

of the Redeemer, have acted a part more infatuated and injurious to themselves, than imagination can paint. The one class have preferred time, to eternity-the other, eternity to time; the one experience a loss that is infinite-the other reap a gain that is incalculable.

Once more-Thousands lose their souls through mere carelessness, indifference, and inaction. They do not remarkably indulge inordinate passions, but neither do they cordially embrace the gospel. They are asleep in a carnal and unregenerate state. They hear the gospel, but they do not obey it. They are unwilling to think on religion, because it interrupts their peace. They voluntarily indulge an indolent thoughtlessness of their condition, and nothing can engage them to "strive to enter in at the strait gate." In a word, they are at ease in their sins, and they hate to be disturbed; and as the kingdom of heaven "suffereth violence," they lose it, because they will not "take it by force." We will grant you, then, ye slothful souls, ye sleepers under the call of the gospel-we will grant that your consciences shall never sting you, nor your minds be disturbed by religion, till your final hour. But beyond that hour your stupor cannot last. Then you will be roused by the gnawings of "the worm that shall never die." And when you see heaven lost, and final perdition incurred, by your invincible carelessness and neglect, how will you upbraid yourselves in agony, that you would never exert your faculties, till exertion could only augment your misery.

But, my brethren, justice to my subject requires that I now recall all the concessions that I have made for the sake of argument. The worldling does not always obtain wealth; the man of pleasure does not always escape pain; the pursuer of fame does not always attain renown; the careless sinner is not always able to preserve his quiet to the last. On the contrary, the chance to any individual is very small, that he will be fortunate enough to realize his hopes and expectations to any considerable extent; and great disappointment and vexation he will certainly experience. Often do the men to whom I have alluded, suffer more, even in this life, than many other men suffer. So that in fact, they often give up their interest in both worlds-" First dragged through this, then damned in that to come." On the other hand-true religion is not inconsistent with wealth, with pleasure, with character, or with ease, so far as they are real ingredients in present happiness: Nay, unfeigned piety gives us the best enjoyment of all these "Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to come.”.

Here, then, is the true and correct statement-Men lose their souls, forfeit heaven, and sink into hell, for something here which, after all, they do not obtain. They are often wretched in time, and wretched throughout eternity, for the sake of grasping at an object which they cannot reach. And all this, when, by true religion, they might really possess the greatest enjoyment in this life, and secure eternal felicity in the life to come. Behold, here, the wisdom of this world! Language cannot express the madness of its absurdity, nor describe the consequences of listening to its dictates. Let us, then

III. Carefully apply and improve this subject. And here the first point that each of us ought to settle, is-whether he be concerned or not, in this fearful business of giving his soul for the world? It is a question of infinite importance, and I do entreat you to put it honestly to your consciences and hearts. I beg of every individual to ask himself fairly and seriously, whether he loves God, or the world, the most?

This decides the point-If you love not God supremely, you have no such love to him as will save your souls. He will not share your affections with any rival. "You cannot serve God and mammon." The one, or the other, is your lord and sovereign. Decide the questionwhich is it? Do you hesitate? If you belong to any of those classes or descriptions of character that I have just set before you, you need not deliberate a moment. You have chosen the world, and your soul is the forfeiture. Are you really doubtful about your state? Then come, and let us investigate it closely. Have you ever felt that you were by nature and by practice a lost and perishing sinner? I ask not whether you have speculatively believed this-I ask if you have felt it. Has the sight and conviction of your sin, given you such uneasiness that you have felt willing to give up the world, as your supreme good? Yea, felt that if you had owned a world, you would have been ready to give it freely, if this had been the price of obtaining pardon and reconciliation with your Maker? In these circumstances, has the Lord Jesus Christ been presented to your view, as the only, and the all-sufficient Saviour? Have you renounced all your own doings and righteousness, as of no avail, and cast yourselves-helpless and hopeless from any other quarter-on him, as the entire hope, and only refuge of your souls? Have you ever been drawn sweetly to resign yourselves to him, to save you from the power and dominion of sin, as well as from its punishment? Have you, in consequence of this, found Christ Jesus unspeakably precious? Have you solemnly renounced the world, and all that it can offer, so far as it shall come in competition with the laws and service of God? Have you chosen God in Christ, as your portion and supreme good; determined to undervalue and treat as "dross and dung," every thing inconsistent with his love and favour? Have you been able to keep this purpose-not perfectly, for none do this-but yet so prevailingly that you do prefer the ways, the favour and the glory of God, before all other considerations? Can you, and do you, give up the possessions, the pleasures, and the good opinion of the world, when they are opposed to Christian duty? Are your heart, your treasure, and your affections, in heaven? Do you study to adorn the doctrine of God your Saviour, in all things-by a meek, and humble, and exemplary deportment; and by the faithful, diligent, and conscientious discharge of every social and relative duty? If so, you are the Lord's, and he will keep that which you have committed to him. A few days of trial more, and you will enter on that glorious state of endless and increasing blessedness, which has been faintly described in this discourse.

But my principal business is with those whose consciences inform them that they must answer the inquiries proposed in the negative. Let them know assuredly, that they have trifled or trafficked away their souls. Dear deluded immortals! Count me not your enemy because I tell you the truth. Behold, I come to you this hour with a message, that you ought to receive with the greatest thankfulness and joy. I come to tell you, that it is not too late to retract the fatal transaction, by which you have lost your souls. I come to proclaim to you in the name of Jehovah, that your covenant with death," may, and ought to be disannulled; and your agreement with hell," to be broken. I come to persuade you immediately to renounce and cast far from you, the wages of eternal death. Will you not listen, with all the powers of your souls, to this information? If you will, you may yet be saved. Such is the transcendent mercy of God, and the wonderful condescen

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