fashion, and with many false professions and flattering speeches, lure him to their dens-low houses where they minister to his intemperance and sensuality-give him the bowl and the harlot -pander to his vices and applaud his profligacy. This, however, does not last long-impatient for their nefarious harvest, they produce their bill, which the sailor, who has been half the time insensible, is obliged to pay. He has lost in a few days the reward perhaps of years of incessant toil-the price of many a risk of life and limb. He must either go into the streets or brave again the dangers of the ocean, only to return and suffer again the same imposture. Have we any sense of justice? Any feelings of humanity? If we be not more cruel than death, and more unmerciful than the grave, we must feel indignant at such oppression.

But how can he be delivered from the jaws of these devourers? You are to remember that their houses are the only ones open for his convenience. It is vain to say that he could find accommodation where landsinen find it. Seamen are gregarious in their habits; they love to live together. The only plan is that which this Society is anxious to accomplish-to build a Sailor's Homelarge enough to accommodate all applicants, comfortable enough to find favor in the eyes of seamen, and handsome enough to be creditable to the city where it stands. A cheap home, where, instead of being plundered, the sailor would be able to save a large proportion of what he earns. A moral home, where, in place of profaneness and vice, he would find temperance, soberness and chastity. An intellectual home, supplied with books of an instructive, interesting and useful character. A religious home with religious superintendence, religious worship, conducted by religious men, upon religious principles. In the temporary establishments of this kind, two in number, which the Pennsylvania Seamen's Friend Society now sustains, there have been accommodated during the past year 776 seamen, 470 of whom have, under its auspices, renounced the use of intoxicating drinks, and many of them become new creatures in Christ Jesus. Public worship has been held in these buildings every Sabbath, daily family prayer offered up in the household, and the Scriptures, with other religious books, given to the inmates on their going to sea. Encourage such a charity as this, and a change will speedily be wrought upon the character, the standing, and the destinies of this invaluable class of men; instead of being a by-word and a reproach among all nations-instead of impeding by their example, the progress of the Gospel abroad, and encouraging by their vices the march of impiety at home, they will carry a blessing wherever they go-they will earn for themselves a high place in public esteem-they will be itinerant missionaries of the Church of Christ, and hasten that period when "the earth shall

be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea."

And now, if the past neglect which the sailor has experienced-if the value and jeopardy of his immortal soul-if his numbers, his degradation, his misfortunes, his hardships, his perils and his melancholy end-if these be insufficient to touch your hearts and open your hands, what additional motives can I urge in his behalf. If you have a spark of that generosity for which the sailor is so distinguished-of that gratitude for which he is so proverbial, your offerings to-night towards the emancipation of his mind from ignorance, and of his soul from vice, and of his body from oppression, will be large and liberal.

There are no individuals in this assembly who are not deeply in the sailor's debt. Men of science, what a revenue of knowledge has the sailor contributed to your treasury, and through you to the world at large. How many weary circumnavigations of the globe has he accomplished-how many previously unknown lands has he discovered! He has enriched your cabinets with the most curious productions of foreign climes. Your records teem with his observations upon distant countries, and with speculations founded upon his researches.

Commercial men, your obligations to the seaman are of greater magnitude. He has not embarked in your service in order to determine the figure of the earth, or to observe the transit of a planet, or to ascertain the locality of the magnetic pole. You have sent him forth to do business on great waters to traffic with the savage on his treacherous coast--to chase the leviathan on the watery waste--to bring the fabrics of the East from their distant looms, and the rich furs of the north from their frozen homes-to endure hardships, to face dangers, to abandon friends -to peril life, in order that you may be rich as princes and wealthy as kings.

I repeat-there are no individuals in this assembly who are not deeply in the sailor's debt. I see many a fashionable woman here to-night who would help to bear me out in this assertion. She is attired in the trophies of the seaman's hardihood. Those gracefully drooping plumes he brought from Africa; that magnificent shawl from Thibet; those furs which protect her from the winter's blast, from the bleak regions of Siberia; those rich silks, from China, and those sparkling gems from the remotest islands of the Indian Ocean. In her dwelling she is surrounded with similar proofs of the sailor's daring. When she comes down in a morning she finds on her breakfast table the productions of the Indies, East and West; her eye rests upon the carpets of Turkey, the mirrors of France, and a thousand other articles of use or elegance which were produced or manufactured in distant climes.

If, again, we are interested in the conversion and civilization

of the globe-if we are engaged in the mighty work of sending into heathen lands the Gospel and the temporal blessings which follow in its train, we are indebted to the sailor for carrying into effect the benevolent design.

If we have any love of country, any regard for those who protect its trade, defend its rights, maintain its honor, how can we feel otherwise than under the deepest obligation to the gallant sailor who is continually hazarding his life for these ends?

I leave his cause, then, in your hands. Assist him with a little of that wealth for which some of you are so largely indebted to his bravery and fortitude. Add your name to the list of the contributors to this Society, and you will not only have the pleasure of knowing that you have discharged a duty and performed a charitable deed, but in that day when the sea shall give up its dead, you may have the unspeakable satisfaction of receiving the blessing of thousands who were ready to perish, had not you compassionated their sorrows and relieved their sufferings. AMEN.

SERMON DCLXVII.

BY REV. C. MOORE,

SLATELICK, PA.

EARTH TRANSITORY-HEAVEN ABIDING.

"For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come."—HEB. xiii. 14.

THE term city, as here employed, is intended to teach the transitory nature of earthly homes and comforts, and also to show forth the permanent and the enduring character of the Christian's glorious home in heaven. The kingdom of future glory is in the Bible called a city-a holy city, because of its holy laws, ordinances, and citizens. It is also called the city of God, because he planned, built, rules, protects, and dwells in it. The church on earth is sometimes called a city,--Christ is represented as the foundation of it; truth, the towers of it; ordinances, the palaces of it; and the walls of it, the promises and the protection of God. In the text, however, the obvious design of the term is to represent the unchanging state of blessedness which shall constitute the Christian's final home, in contrast with the changing and mutable character of all earthly cities. Various figures are employed in the sacred Scriptures to set forth, in a strong point of view, the vanity and uncertainty of all earthly affairs, as also to exhibit the substantial excellences and fadeless glories of the rest

that remains" to the people of God." And among these choice, heaven-selected specimens of representation, the one we have chosen to consider occupies a pre-eminent place.

There are two propositions contained in this subject, which I shall consider in the order in which they present themselves. I. That here we have no continuing city. II. I shall describe briefly the character of the one Christians are seeking: "But we seek one to come."

I. First, then, we call attention to the fact that here we have no continuing city. And is it not almost a self-evident truth? Do we not daily see and feel that it is even so? Has not your own experience convinced you, long since, that it is painfully true? If not, look for a moment at the history of the earth on which you dwell.

What does it present? Is it not a gloomy and melancholy picture of fading, changing scenes, which almost elude the grasp of the mind in its attempt to contemplate them? The universal voice of this world's recorded history proclaims uncertainty and change in everything human and earthly. The historic pen has written decay in indelible characters on the mightiest works of man. It unites with the pen of inspiration in inscribing mutability on all things below the sun. The towers and monuments of antiquity, the cities and pyramids, where are they? Let recorded facts answer. Those mighty empires, too, that once rose in grandeur and in power, have gone down in gloom, and now live only in the remembrances of departed greatness. With respect to things of earth, whether cities or towns, or peaceful country houses, all are alike perishing. Some are more enduring than others, with respect to some of the elements of existence; but all, sooner or later, yield to force of devouring time.

If, therefore, I show the instability of the most substantial of earth's possessions, my first proposition will be sustained; and to effect this, I shall note but two instances out of the multitude which crowd and throng the voluminous history of our world? Where now is Babylon ?-once the pride and glory of the Chaldees! That splendid city was once the pride and admiration of the Eastern world. It was rich, powerful, and magnificent. In the extent of its wealth, the splendor of its structures, and the strength of its fortifications, it was unrivalled by any city of antiquity. It is recorded concerning it, that it occupied a circumference of sixty square miles. It was surrounded by a wall on each side, fifteen miles long, eightyseven feet thick, and three hundred and fifty feet high. To this wall were attached one hundred gates-twenty-five on each side; from these proceeded twenty-five streets, crossing each other at right angles, thus forming the whole into six hundred and twentysix squares. The gates were of solid brass. Towers also were attached to the walls-three between each gate, and seven at each

corner. The celebrated temple of Belus occupied a square near the centre of the city, the riches of which alone amounted to ninety-four millions of dollars. Its vessels and statues were of massy gold. It is unnecessary, however, to adduce further particulars to show the greatness of this city. Suffice it to say, that, according to history, it was one of the mightiest combinations of wealth, strength, and splendor, that the world ever beheld. But where, we inquire, is the glory of Babylon? Where slumbers her power and her grandeur? The same history that records her glory reveals her fate. The same hand that unveils her greatness points to her obscurity. Even the site of her former magnificence cannot now with certainty be ascertained. It is admitted, however, to be a spot, dreary, desolate, and waste; the habitation of prowling beasts and loathsome reptiles--in every respect gloomy and forbidding. Such is the melancholy fate of one of the greatest cities that ever graced our globe; and such the triumph of time over man's proudest achievements.

Take another instance: Glance for a moment at the history of Jerusalem. That city, peculiarly favored of Heaven-the theatre of the most astonishing manifestations of the Divine power and presence. Surely if any earthly city could withstand the changes incident to this world, it would be the one chosen of God-sacredly and specially consecrated to his service, and bearing his own holy name. Here was the residence of King David, declared by inspiration to be "a man after God's own heart." Here was Solomon's Temple, in which were combined the beautiful, the splendid, and the sublime. Its brazen altars, its golden vessels and candlesticks, and other adornments, amounting to many thousand tons weight of gold and silver, together with the external magnificence of the building, formed an object of unrivalled beauty and splendor. This temple, with all its wealth and beauty, was dedicated unto the Lord. But where is now the glory of Jerusalem, and the splendor of the holy temple? Would not divine power be interposed for their protection and defence? Would not God himself secure his own chosen city from lawless violence or destroying time? No; he never designed it to be permanent. With all its high privileges and peculiar blessings, it was, nevertheless, a sinful city, and as such, could not be abiding. And from its destruction and desolation, the truth that earth is vanity, and all her cities perishing, is perpetually announced, as in a voice of thunder.

If the Almighty gave up that city, rendered almost sacred by so many hallowed associations, to the ravages of the universal destroyer, what favored spot on all the globe may now hope for his protection? Surely none. Jerusalem was destroyed: and the fact is an enduring and eloquent monument, speaking to us, and proclaiming to all generations, the mutability of all things earthly. And for the benevolent purpose of lifting up and fixing