not say for a moment that faith does not and may not also look forward to the realizing and perfecting of its earthly affections; were it not so, the communion of saints would be but an empty name; I only mean, that the faith which ventures to dwell habitually beyond the grave will support itself by no meaner object than God himself: unless sustained by Him, and fixed on Him, it soon drops from a height which then becomes unnatural, it contracts its hopes within the circle of earth and earth's known blessings.

Now this faith which takes death within its prospect, and looks on boldly to something beyond, is at once the greatest elevation and the greatest blessing of humanity. But it cannot be denied that in quiet times and amid much worldly enjoyment, such faith is hard to be maintained, and in many wholly wanting. And they go on for a long time without missing it, doing their common duties and enjoying or hoping for their common pleasures; habitually their view is bounded by this life, even if it reaches far beyond the very present moment. There is no saying for how many years, outward circumstances favouring, we may continue to do without the highest faith. The thought of death need not come near to us, near to us I mean in any sense that will affect us personally; we and those dearest to us may live for many years, and live without so much as falling into any great danger

of death. But yet all the while we are in extreme insecurity, and the sense of this sooner or later must be forced upon us: for sooner or later death and its strangeness must come near to us, and something beyond the grave must be thought of, because the grave itself is close at hand. And if faith has not habitually lived in that region, no longer far off but near, fear will now be dwelling upon it continually.

Is it then a wrong feeling which desires such peace as the church now enjoys; which is thankful for its deliverance from persecution, for the cessation of those times when martyrdom was a real thing to which every Christian might without any remarkable accident be exposed; and when consequently men were obliged to consider what death was, and what was their trust beyond it? No, it is not wrong to be thankful that our lot is fallen upon calmer times; but it is our great shame and our great misery if these calmer times are more than we can bear, if what is in itself a blessing becomes to us a curse. But without desiring times of persecution, which had their own trials too, trials of the spirit as well as of the flesh, we may yet desire some such helps as may give us that faith which times of persecution did certainly exercise. We may earnestly desire such helps as may bring the thoughts of death, and the state beyond death more frequently and naturally

to our minds, yet in a gentler form than when brought to the mind by the frequent sight and danger of imprisonment, of torture, and of martyrdom. And that such helps might be ministered by and through the church in various ways, with a far mightier power than at present, I feel thoroughly assured. But these private persons cannot procure for themselves, so it is needless for us now to dwell on them. What we can do for ourselves with God's help is much more our concern; how we, as many of us as have it not, may attain to their faith of whom the text speaks; how we may live here in our common peaceful life, without any near prospect of death, or of suffering of any kind, and yet live in faith, and what is more, die in faith; believing in and desiring a happiness which we must die before we can enjoy.

Now if any one has ever had occasion to observe the difficulties which hinder ignorant persons from consenting to emigrate to a foreign country, even when they are in great distress here, he will be able to see a lively image of our own case, and of the difficulty which keeps us from being partakers of the patriarchs' faith. Ignorant people are unwilling to emigrate because they know nothing of the country to which they are urged to go, nor of the nature of the journey to it. The sea with all its wonders is, in the first place, a great terror to them; but suppose the

voyage over, still their minds can find nothing to rest upon. The face of the country, the climate, the society, the way of living, the work which they may be called upon to do, all are strange and incomprehensible; and whatever their distress may be at home, still they would rather endure it than wrench themselves from all that they know to venture upon a new world, in which there is not a single object, animate or inanimate, from which they can expect a friendly welcome. I never can blame the shrinking from emigration under such circumstances; yet we know that where there is more knowledge, where we feel to understand what we are going to, distant and new countries are not so appalling; there are many who go to them every day with more of hope and pleasure than of fear and regret. Something of this is applicable to our own case commonly. We too shrink from dwelling on a state altogether beyond our conceptions, from a voyage infinitely mysterious in itself, and leading to a land in which we feel that we should be utter strangers. Above all, we shrink from a country where we should not find a single friend. And this is precisely the feeling which interferes with our faith. We will not, till we must, force our minds from all that is familiar to them and dear, to a prospect so dark and appalling. should do otherwise.

Nor is it possible that we

But must we necessarily

continue to find the prospect so dark and cheerless? No books and no words can indeed give a poor man an exact idea of the state of a new country; much there will be which he cannot realize till he sees it; but enough may be told him to remove the extreme vagueness of his original notions; instructions may be given him, letters or recommendations sent out for him, which may satisfy him, to a certain degree, as to the place to which he is going, and may assure him that when he arrives there, he will find some to receive him kindly. And is not this so with us all? Is it not possible, without gaining distinct notions of what eye hath not seen nor ear heard, yet to lose our feeling of the utter strangeness of the unseen world; and above all, to dispel altogether the apprehension that we should find in it no friends? This is the great point of all, and this may and should be done by us all. We cannot picture to ourselves the face of the country whither we are going, but we may gain the knowledge and assure ourselves of the love of its King; and knowing that we are loved by Him, then we know that all His subjects will receive us kindly too: and some of these we have known; they once lived with us here, but they have gone to the distant land before us.

In short, dropping the figure, it is I believe, an undoubted truth, that in proportion as any one