tended and groaning; who feels in his heart the poisoned arrow of death; who, looking back on his past life, turns aside from the view; who, looking forward to futurity, discerns no beam of hope to break that utter darkness which overwhelms him; what would he then give for those hours which you now despise, to make his peace with Heaven, and fit him for his passage into the world unknown? Remember, my friends, that this is no imaginary case; it is a case which may soon be your own. Be wise, therefore, while wisdom can avail, and save yourselves from the agony of repenting in bitterness of soul, when all repentance may be in vain.

To sum up all, my friends, the time is short. We are as guests in a strange land, who tarry but one night. We wander up and down in a place of graves. We read the epitaphs upon the tombs of the deceased. We shed a few tears over the ashes of the dead; and, in a little time, we need from our surviving friends the tears we paid to the memory of our friends departed.

Time is precious. The time is now passing that fixes our fate for ever. The hours are, at this instant, on the wing, which carry along with them your eternal happiness or eternal misery.

Time is irrecoverable. The clock is wound up once for all the hand is advancing, and, in a little time, it strikes your last hour.

SERMON V.

PSALM iv. 4.

Stand in awe.

W HEN the Patriarch Jacob departed from his father's

house, and entered on that state of pilgrimage which only terminated with his life, he lighted on a certain place, where he tarried all night. Agreeably to the simplicity of. the ancient world, he laid himself down to rest upon the

open plain, without any pillow but a stone of the field, and without any covering but the curtains of heaven. A stranger he was to the elegance and luxury of after times, but he enjoyed pleasures of a higher kind. The God of his fathers was with him. In the patriarchal ages, before a public revelation was given to the world, the Deity frequently appeared to holy men in dreams and visions of the night. Accordingly, Jacob, in his dream, beheld a ladder set upon the earth, the top of it reaching unto the heavens, and upon it the angels of God ascending and descending and behold! the Lord stood above, and said, "I am the Lord God of Abraham, thy Father, and the God of Isaac; the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed; and thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth; thou shalt spread abroad to the east and to the west; to the south and to the north: and in thee, and in thy seed, shall all the families of the earth be blessed."

Did the Patriarch awake in a rapture of joy, when the had been thus so highly favoured of the Lord? You shall hear: "And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not: and he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." Though he had ascended in the visions of God, and beheld scenes of glory which few are admitted to see; though he had received the most gracious promises of personal safety, of prosperous increase to his descendants, and of the Messiah who was to spring from his race, nevertheless an impression of reverence and awe was the last which remained upon his mind.

In like manner, my friends, although you have the near prospect of commemorating the most joyful event which signalizes the annals of time, yet if, at the approaching solemnity, God shall be in this place, you will experience that state of mind which the Patriarch was in when he awoke from his dream, and an impression of seriousness and awe will keep its hold of your heart. There is a degree of reverence and holy fear which ever attends religion. Even when God manifests his mercy, it is, that he may be feared. Hence we are called to serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice before him with reverence. All objects make an impression upon the mind correspondent to their own nature. A beautiful object calls forth pleasing

ideas, and excites a gay emotion. A grand object leaves upon the mind an impression of grandeur. In all sublime scenes, there is a mixture of the awful. The view of the skies by night; the moon moving in the brightness of her course; and the host of heaven in silent majesty performing their eternal rounds, strike an awe and adoration into the mind; we feel divinity present; we bow down and worship in the temple which the Most High God hath built with his hand, and hath filled with his presence. The presence of a respectable character raises a similar impression on the mind; and the man, who sets the Lord always before him, will feel his heart impressed with that mixture of seriousness and holy fear, which the Psalmist here recommends, when he says, "Stand in awe."

In further treating upon this subject, I shall, in the first place, point out the advantages of this seriousness and reverence which we ought to maintain upon our minds: and in the second place, show you the suitableness of this temper of mind to our present state.

I. The first thing proposed is to point out the advantages of this seriousness and reverence which we ought to maintain upon our minds.

The great art of happiness consists in regulating, with propriety, the various offices of human life. To allow no duty to interfere with another; to prevent devotion from growing austere; and to restrain enjoyment from being criminal, is the mark of true wisdom and of true piety.Every department of life is beautiful in its season. There is a time to ve cheerful, and a time to be serious: an hour for solitude, and an hour for society. Providence hath appointed great part of our happiness to consist in society. We find, in every situation of life, that it is not good for us to be alone. Hence, civil society at first was instituted; hence attachments are daily formed; and man is cemented to man by every feeling of nature, and every tie of the heart. But, as we abuse and corrupt every thing, the blessing of society is often turned into a curse. To innocent cheerfulness, a wanton levity succeeds, which banishes sober thought, and laughs at every thing that is serious. How often, in life, do we meet with the sons and daughters of folly, whose sole business is amusement; whose life is one continued scene of idleness and dissipation; everlasting triflers, whose volatile minds are per

petually on the wing, as if they had been sent to this earth merely to play the fool.

Not that I condemn cheerful society and innocent enjoyment. When God gives, let man enjoy. Let us drink from the fountain of joy, when we are sure there is no poison in the cup. But, my brethren, I must remind you, that but a narrow interval, often but a single step, lies between enjoyment and excess; between the voice of mirth, and the roar of riot; between innocent entertainment, and a loose and licentious indulgence. Look back on your past life, and tell me, O man! when was it that you felt yourself most strongly inclined to go astray? When was it that you found yourself seduced in thought, to wander from the paths of purity and uprightness? Was it not in the hour of levity and indulgence? Did not your heart betray you when your spirits were elevated; when you had banished sober recollection, and delivered yourself over to the delirium of excessive joy? Here then is the advantage of seriousness and reverence. It places a guard upon the heart. It keeps the world and its temptations at a due distance. It consecrates the mind in which it resides, as with the presence of the Deity. A heart thus impressed with the fear of God will not so readily be assaulted by the tempter; nor so easily yield to the temptation. An impure and profane guest will hardly venture upon hallowed ground, or dare to violate the sanctity of a temple. The presence of a good man is a check upon the turbulence and uproar of the giddy; they are inspired with a reverence for his character; they feel how awful goodness is, and restrain themselves from those indecent levities to which they are accustomed. If a regard for man has such influence upon the mind, what may the fear of God be supposed to have? The man who is possessed of this holy fear, sets the Lord always before him. He enters beforehand into heaven, and dwells in the presence of God. And canst thou, O man! defile the purity of heaven with the deeds of hell? Darest thou violate the law in the presence of the Lawgiver? Darest thou sin in the very face of thy Maker? Wilt thou make the Judge of all the earth the witness of thy wicked actions, the beholder of thy loose moments?—No.-In such a presence thou wilt banish all impure thoughts, and all unhallowed affections, like Moses at the burning bush, because the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.

G

Thus, of itself, this serious frame of mind is the guardian and the protector of religion; and it also associates with other virtues which belong to the Christian character. Those who are acquainted with the nature of the mind, know the influence and extent of association upon human life and manners. It is not a single quality that marks and characterizes a man; the virtues and the vices come in a train; it is the temper of the soul which is all in all in the conduct of human life. But to the temper and disposition here recommended, the most respectable attributes of the mind, and the most amiable qualities of the heart, are allied and peculiar.

In the first place, This serious frame of mind cherishes those higher virtues of the soul, which, in the emphatic language of the Sacred Scripture, are called "the armour of God." In the solemn silence of the mind are formed those great resolutions which decide the fate of men.That magnanimity which rises superior to the events of life; that fortitude which bears up under the pressure of affliction; and that Christian heroism which, neither moved with the threatenings of pain, nor with the blandishments of pleasure, holds on rejoicing to the end; are all of them but expressions of this character varied and diversified according to the occurrences of life. They are the light, the giddy, and the volatile, who are the sport of caprice, or the prey of passion. Persons of such a character have no permanent principle of action; they are the sinners or the saints of accident; and assume every folly to which the fashion of the world gives its sanction. Very different is the serious man who communes with his own heart. He follows not the multitude: He possesses that strenuous and steady mind, which walks by its own light, which holds its purpose to the last; that self deciding spirit which is prepared to act, to suffer, or to die, as duty requires. Being thus, by the grace of God, the master of his own mind, he is above the world; and through prosperity or adversity, through life or death, goes forth conquering, and to conquer. He is not guided by events like the giddy multitude, who fall into any form by the fortuitous concourse of accidents; but, imitating the Providence of Heaven, he takes a direction of events, and makes the course of human affairs bend to his purposes, and terminate in his honour.

Further, this temper and disposition is no less favour