were thoroughly ashamed of their former lives; and, no doubt, grieved at the heart that they had lived so contrary to the holy law of GOD. The converts being in this right frame of mind, the apostle puts to them the question contained in the text, which makes part of the epistle for the day. He asks them, "What fruit they had in "those things of which they were now "ashamed ?" What pleasure their sins had afforded them, at the time they committed them; or what advantage or profit had followed, in consequence of their having been guilty of them? He knew that no satisfactory answer could be given to this question; and therefore goes on to tell them, that "the end of these things is death;" that, instead of being profitable or pleasureable, they are evermore followed by loss and sorrow, both in time and eternity. Having thus explained the words before us, I shall proceed to shew you, by a few examples, that all kinds of sin have these sad consequences; and shall conclude with a few remarks, which, I trust in GoD, may prevail upon you to use your utmost endeavours to avoid them.

It is unnecessary for me to tell you, my friends, that all atrocious crimes, such as murder, malicious and revengeful actions,

and such like, carry with them their own curse, both at the time of their commission, and after they have been committed. They proceed from violent passion; and violent passion is always a state very painful to the mind; during the continuance of which, all pleasure, and peace, and enjoyment, are entirely banished from it. It is ever followed, also, by shame. The man who has acted under the influence of violent passion, knows that he has lowered himself in the eyes of others. He knows that he has debased his own nature, and converted himself, for a time, into the likeness of an irrational brute. As soon, therefore, as the tempest of passion is over, and the small still voice of conscience can be heard, he is "ashamed" of himself; he shrinks from his own thoughts; and becomes a prey to all the horrors of remorse. But this is not all; temporal punishment, as well as inward misery, pursues him. The laws of his country demand satisfaction for his outrageous actions; the sentence of the human judge awaits him; and before he goes to" his own place," to receive the due and final reward of his wicked deeds; he must expiate, by public punishment, melancholy imprisonment, or by death itself, (if his actions have been highly criminal,) the injury which he has done to society.

Independently, however, of these great and dreadful crimes, all other sins, though they are of a less terrible nature; and though they do not bring upon a man such severe human punishments as those I have mentioned; are sure, notwithstanding, to produce no good "fruit," even in this life, to those who are guilty of them; and to be followed, in the end, by that " death," from which there is no resurrection. Let us prove the truth of this, by considering a few of those vices which are so common in the world; such as dishonesty, drunkenness, uncleanness, and a profanation of the LORD's Day. What fruit, for example, is there in dishonesty? It is true, 'that a man, by art and contrivance, by fair speeches, or an apparently open behaviour, may impose upon those who are unsuspecting; and cheat his neighbour, who is less cunning than himself. In the same manner, servants may deceive their masters by " eye-service, and abuse the confidence that is placed in them, by purloining what is committed to their trust; or labourers may impose upon their employers; receive their wages without having earned them; or waste, injure, or steal, the articles which do not belong to them, and of which they ought to have been conscientiously careful. But what are the

consequences of these different acts of secret fraud? "What fruit' have they who are guilty of them? It cannot be denied, that such practices may sometimes increase a man's gains, or put him into possession of that which he has no right to have though it generally happens, that such deceit is detected, and such secret fraud found out; for the dishonest man cannot be always on his guard; and some look, or action, or accident, will usually betray him. But, supposing he does succeed in his under-hand designs, or secret villainy; the " fruit” of it will be like the vine of Sodom to him, "whose grapes are grapes of gall, and whose "clusters are bitter." He will lose all respect and esteem for himself. He will carry within him a secret accuser, that maketh him ashamed of his own soul. He will not be able to look an honest man in the face; he will "fear where no fear is ;" and dread a discoverer of his fraud in every one he meets. I leave you to judge, my friends, whether any dishonest gains are not much too dearly purchased by such "fruit" as this.

The consequences of drunkenness are equally fatal to a man's personal happiness. There is no one given to this vice, I believe, who will deny that he loses by it the esteem of all who know him, except the vile com

panions of his sottishness; and there are few so abandoned, as not to own, that, when they come to their their senses, they feel "ashamed" and degraded in their own minds at the situation to which they have reduced themselves. Indeed, for a man to have willingly put himself upon the level of a beast, and not to suffer some remorse on recovering his reason, is the strongest proof of a completely reprobate mind, utterly given over to all that is bad. But this is not all the bitter fruit of drunkenness. Health falls a sacrifice to it; business runs to ruin; credit fails; and while the wretched family of the sot has to mourn the loss of a father's love, tenderness, and protection; their means of subsistence, instead of being spent at home, are all consumed in the destructive places which furnish him with the means of intoxication.

In the same way, the sins of uncleanness and impurity produce a "fruit" as bad as poison to those who are guilty of them. Look, my brethren, at characters of this description, for a proof of what I say. The profligate man, and the unchaste woman, carry about them, like Cain of old, a mark by which the virtuous and the good are ever taught to shun them. Their bold and shameless air, their loose and profane lan