that religion, as far as it is applicable to the circumstances of man in this world, is of unspeakable consequence, a most desirable good, and an inestimable blessing. But when we enter the chamber of sickness; when we close the eyes of our fellowcreatures in mortality; when we go down to the gates of death; when we survey the dominions of the king of terrors; when we look beyond sense, and the world, and time; then! then, it is, that we need the cheering light and the animating hopes of the blessed Gospel: without which, standing near the sepulchres of the dead, we may truly say:

"That darkness, death, and long despair
Reign in eternal silence there."

Oh! it is religion, divine and glorious christianity, that teacheth us the knowledge of God; it is religion, that makes us acquainted with ourselves; it is religion, that creates in us all things new; it is religion, that works that mighty change of mind and transformation of character, which nothing human - could produce; it is religion, that yields us our noblest enjoyments, and imparts our sublimest hopes; it is religion, that leads us to the Saviour, that reveals his character, that displays his love, that declares his all-sufficiency, that enables us to believe on him, and to rejoice in him; that tells us of his great salvation, and makes him all our desire.

Sermon by the Rev. William Brown, preached at Baker-street Meeting, Enfield.

JER., chap. xv. v. 9.

"Her sun is gone down while it was yet day."

OH, there is something peculiarly distressing in early death! When the old die-though they are often justly lamented-though they leave sometimes a void which cannot be filled-and though we can never allow that the time is come when we ought to be willing to part with our friends-yet we must confess, they have had their day-they have drank the

full cup of life-they set like the sun at evening-tide. But early mortality seems, and in fact is, an inversion of the order of nature. It excites wonder, it painfully disappoints hope, it is the sun going down ere noon. And, oh! how disappointing in this case! The youthful parent, and the child that never saw the light, and the blooming hopes of a country! let us, while we view it, pause and remember what we are! Let us next look forward. We have long been gazing on mortality, and we do well to consider our end. But this is not the full end of man. We must view the subject not only by the light of nature, but by the light of revelation. We believe in the immortality of the soul; hence we write on the tomb, "Here lies what was mortal!" We believe in the resurrection of the dead; that whether the body be enshrined in regal pomp, or only covered with the clods of the valley, it shall rise-that these dry bones shall live. We hear a voice which says unto us, "I am the resurrection and the life!" we anticipate the hour when the "trumpet shall sound," and all nations" shall be gathered together" before the Judge!

Sermon by the Rev. Samuel Slocock, preached at the Parish Church of Newbury.

GENESIS, chap. xxx. v. 1,

"Give me Children, or else I die!"

BUT amidst this universal eagerness, to hail the opening of that tender blossom, which, in fancy's eye, was hereafter to expand into a beauteous and goodly plant, the pride and ornament of the soil on which it was to grow; what man amongst us seemed, at any time, to entertain either fear, or apprehension of the safety of the parent stem, from which it was to spring? That it would wither, droop, and die, no one perhaps foreboded! Yet it has thus seemed good to Him, whose counsels are impenetrable, and whose judgments are past finding out." That domestic circle, which, but a few

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days since, presented so fair a picture of connubial happiness, and conjugal affection, has been invaded by the universal enemy, in a form more terrific than he commonly assumes. Of two, united by the tenderest love, one has been taken! And in that one, how much of future happiness, of interest, of importance, was centered? One, on whom a husband's peace depended! One, in whose life all of us had an interest! One, in whose dissolution so much of the general good must necessarily be involved! One, too, who died, not from the completion perhaps of her own desires, as did Rachel, for it was not her's, it was a nation's prayer! One, the tidings of whose death wounded so deeply the sensibilities of our nature, and struck upon the heart like a thunderbolt from heaven! One, who preferring the calm satisfaction of peaceful retirement, to the bewildering hurry of dissipation; who, born to royalty, and to all the splendour of earthly magnificence, chose, as it were, seclusion and obscurity, in which, with the husband of her choice, and of her affection, she exhibited the rare and beautiful combination of exalted rank and princely birth, with piety towards God and love to man.

Sermon by Abraham Rees, D.D. F.R.S. F.L.S., preached at the Old Jewry Chapel, in Jewin-street.

JEREMIAH, chap. ix. v. 23.

"Thus saith the Lord, Let not the Wise Man glory in his Wisdom, neither let the Mighty Man glory in his Might; let not the Rich Man glory in his Riches."

LET those who glory in their health and strength look on that countenance, so lately blooming, but now faded; on that frame, so firm and robust, but now drooping to the grave; on those accomplishments, natural or acquired, which rendered their possessor lovely and beloved, and which flattered the hope of future years, now only serving to increase the sympathy and grief of the lately admiring multitude, as well as the pomp and

parade with which their remains are deposited in the tomb! Let those who value themselves on their wealth remember, that riches take to themselves wings, and fly away, seeking new owners, and new lords, and leaving their once prosperous, and perhaps boasting proprietors, to the disgrace, or at least to the distress of penury and dependence! In such precarious possessions, there is no ground for exultation and confidence. Mutable and transitory in their nature, they forbid the boast and hope of their deluded votaries. More especially when it is considered, that "our tenure of them, prolonged to its utmost duration, is of very momentary continuance :"-" all go," says Solomon, "to one place." The grave is the common habitation of the wise and simple, the powerful and the despised, the rich and the poor. There terminate all those views and hopes which wisdom, influence, and wealth, without virtue, furnish. In a few years, the distinctions which these objects create will cease. Their possessors will slumber together, and be forgotten; and they will mingle their dust in one undistinguished mass; nor, after a few years of decay and dissolution, can the mouldering remains of the man of genius and science be separated from those of the illiterate; nor those of nobles and princes from their meanest vassals.

Let us, then, anticipate the change which time will soon produce. Let us look forwards to the approaching end of all living; and let us learn to hold low in our estimation what death and the grave will very soon utterly destroy. It will be in vain to erect monuments, to mark the spot where the men of worldly wisdom, influence, and wealth have been deposited. These monuments, however beautified and garnished, will all perish with the lapse of years: nor can the pride of the living confer worth on the dead, or secure a lasting memorial of them. "Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom; neither let the mighty man glory in his might, nor the rich man in his riches." These endowments and possessions have a fixed boundary; and this boundary is at no great distance.

Sermon by David M'Nicoll, preached in Wesley Chapel, Meadow-Lane, Leeds.

1 TIMOTHY, chap. vi. v. 15, 16.

"Who is the blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings, and Lord of lords; who only hath immortality, dwelling in the light which no man can approach unto; whom no man hath seen, nor can see: to whom be honour and power everlasting. Amen."

IT is obvious to remark, that the late painful event may be the occasion of much immediate good to the souls of our dear countrymen; and this, particularly by means of the character of our late incomparable Princess, now brought forward fully to the view of the nation, and operating through the medium of that deep and solemn feeling by which the public mind is moved. Her name is endeared to us by our admiration of that character, by our conviction that she fills a throne in heaven, and by the sad sense of our loss at her untimely departure. Surely this endearment gives her virtues and example a paramount authority.

Our sorrows bring a soothing with them, which fixes our enamoured spirits on the bright pattern she has left us, and inclines us to emulate her inimitable excellencies. The whole occasion is pervaded by uncommon solemnity, but no horrid image, no imp of hell, intrudes upon the heavenly scene, to divert our attention. from that angel of our love and delight, whom our eye sorrowingly follows to the confines of blessedness. We are not afraid with any great amazement, or distracted by dread. We feel that we are tranquil, and can listen, in sweet abstraction from the din of mortality, to that voice, which lately, on earth, gave the very music of virtue to all within its sound; but which now, from heaven, speaks, with sufficient distinction, and seraphical effect, the noblest lessons of religion and virtue, to millions left imprisoned in this sublunary world. That voice says, Follow me; and where is the Briton, who will rebelliously object to obey the command of such a voice?