tomb, and the earnest soul must so view it, to keep himself in a full consciousness of his real position, and to feel duly the proper motive to action. What cares the student, competing for a prize, just how many days his finished papers will be in the hands of the judges, if but an hour remains for the examination? He thinks of the award as just at that hour's end, and strives accordingly. What cares the suspected cashier how long his books will be in the hands of the experts before his fate is made public, if he has but a single day in which to straighten out his accounts, and make all square? That final verdict is to him practically, and in his thought, just as near as the last ray of the setting sun, and he works with the energy which such a fact demands. And so the Lord's coming ought to loom up before us every day, as just upon us, and as the all-powerful monitor to holy living. Forgetting it we must go wrong, conceiving it dimly we shall be weak. Putting it far off we are presumptuously contravening Scripture and making the greatest practical mistake. St. Jerome was right in his vivid consciousness of that hour when he said: "Whether I eat or drink, or in whatever other action or employment I am engaged, that solemn voice always seems to sound in my ears;— arise ye dead, and come to judgment. As often as I think of the day of judgment my heart quakes, and my whole frame trembles. If I am to engage in any of the pleasures of the present life, I am resolved to do it, only in such a way that the solemn realities of the future judgment may never be banished from my recollection."

Finally, this great event is at hand LITERALLY, since it is liable to come at any moment, so far as our knowledge goes, and waits only the sovereign and unsearchable will of God. It is an impending event;-not an event postponed by any known

interval of time, but an event ready at any moment to be precipitated when God shall see fit to permit it.

When an army is at a distance marching upon a citadel, the garrison knows that the attack is not imminent, but only ap proaching. It does not yet impend. But when that army has arrived and ranged itself before the walls, then every man must be at his post with ceaseless vigilance, for the attack impends,— it may come at any moment; the foe is at hand. So watched Marshall St. Cyr behind the walls of a little town in Russia with the hosts of Cossacks drawn up before him. He was greatly outnumbered. He dared not leave the shelter of the walls even to retreat. He knew that an assault would overwhelm and destroy him, and he saw no reason why it should be delayed. It waited only the word of command from the Russian chief, and with an intensity of anxiety that made moments seem hours, and hours ages, he watched the slow descent of the sun, if perchance the friendly night-shade might afford him the chance to escape. The attack impended.

So is it that the advent impends. It is not postponed. It is to be expected at each hour, for entire uncertainty veils the counsels of God. For of that day and hour "knoweth no man, neither the angels in heaven, but the Father only." The nod that brings it, so far as we know, may be given at any instant, and on this ground we are exhorted to be diligent. "Watch," says Christ, "for you know not the hour when your Lord doth come, and what I say unto you, I say unto all, Watch."

It is true that the Scriptures speak of certain events that must precede the coming, but no fixed limit of time is named. None needed to be named. The events are such as God, for aught we know,

could compress into a short period, or extend through centuries. With Him one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day, and even the Apostles knew not but the time would be of the shortest, and lived, as all wise men should, in a state of humble expectancy. How then ought it to be with us, when so many centuries have fled away and the shadows have lengthened on the dial of time?

You have watched by the bedside of a friend sick with an incurable disease. The time comes when the physician can do no more. He makes the sad announcement. He tells you that the end is at hand. Yet he says that certain symptoms will precede it. The patient will pass through a series of sinking turns, in one of which he will depart. Now the time of your most anx ious watching begins. Death impends. It is sure to come soon. It may come at the next hour. For while the symptoms named may extend through a day or two, they may develop rapidly, and pass to the climax in a very few minutes. No thought now of leaving that bedside. Not for a moment is it deserted. The family are notified to be in readiness for the last summons, and sit sadly waiting in adjoining apartments. Every breath is watched. Every whisper is caught and remembered; it may be a last request. Each return of the sinking makes the heart leap as if it were surely the foot-fall of the death angel:- till, at length, he comes and the shadow falls upon the home.

Thus it is that the fateful hour of this doomed world impends. It is not postponed; it is near; it comes quickly. Each new error and species of unbelief, each fresh form of daring impiety that rears its serpent head, each sharp convulsion that rends society and makes the nations pale, may well be but the last

throe that heralds dissolution. The judge is not far off. He standeth before the door, his hand upon the latch, his foot upon the threshold, liable at any instant to step in, and ready to judge the quick and dead.

"Watch!-'tis your Lord's command,
And while we speak, He's near;
Mark every signal of his hand,
And ready all appear.

"Let all your lamps be bright,
And trim the golden flame;
Gird up your loins as in his sight,
For awful is his name.

"O happy servant he,

In such a posture found!

He shall his Lord with rapture see,
And be with honor crowned."