pursuit better than the fantasies of a vain philoso phy, a wealth greater than that of Indus, a blessedness which "it had never entered into the heart of man to conceive," and " pleasures which are at God's right hand for evermore."

The meteor of earthly happiness, appearing in the solemn darkness of an unenlightened world, was found, by bitter experience, only to lead men on in a vain pursuit, causing them to fall into the pit of destruction, or vanishing into its kindred air and nothingness, from the touch of experience and trial of its deceitful light.

But while experience rather than argument universally proved the meteorous nature of human happiness, and men learned by daily trial the insufficiency and instability of earthly joys; while phi losophers were propounding, with dogmatical assurrance, schemes of ideal happiness which the testimony of all ages falsified; multitudes of patriarchs and prophets, and a whole company of saints were revelling in the fountain of a perpetual felicity, when the whole world was sunk in wretchedness and woe.

Thanks be to God, the secret is no longer concealed. Thanks be to God, it is no longer like the light, which once shone only in Goshen, when the rest of Egypt was in darkness.-Thanks be to God, this sacred truth, the enquiry of all philosophers, of all ages and countries, is no longer like the sources

of the Nile, once supposed to be impenetrable. But as that river, springing from a slender fountain, passes through climes and countries only known by fame, and encreasing in its course, spreads its waters among the cemeteries of departed kings and heroes, and laves the feet of those pyramids that have stood the shock of earthquakes and lapse of ages; which, while changing their lords, change not themselves, but have looked down upon revolutions of empires, the convulsions of states, and conflicts of armies, that have happened on the plain beneath; and thus testify by their own immortality, the future resurrection and eternity of those who are entombed within them, when at the last trump and wreck of all things, they themselves shall then, and not till then, become the tomb of their own greatness, as they are now the monuments of departed worth. Thus the stream of the knowledge of eternal life, and the beatitude, which is to be found in God, takes its rise in the land of fallen Israel; and having first refreshed the souls of Jewish kings and prophets, like the impetuous river of the East, flows into nations known only by name, and carries its sacred and life-giving waters into all people and languages. And breaking down, with its overwhelming waters, the barriers of ignorance and error, which philosophy and infidelity in vain had raised, it becomes at length a very ocean, and spreads itself over the whole earth, "as the

waters cover the sea." Every land it visits, it refreshes; to every man that drinks of it, it bequeaths immortality, being at once the waters of oblivion of our woes, and of the perception of unutterable joys. Those saints and heroes, who now sleep in their tombs, shall once again, with more than pyramidic immortality, arise from the dust of death, shall again in body, as once they did in spirit, drink of this river of immortality and blessedness, which flows into the ocean of eternal life.

No terrene happiness can fill up the measure of that blessedness, which man was made to enjoy ; a few draughts empty the bowel of earthly enjoyments, and nothing remains to satisfy us, but the bitter dregs of disappointed hope. Satiety and disgust attend the votaries of pleasure; disappointment follows ambition, and loss of money the hope of gain. The riches of Dives could not profit him; they were unable to purchase one drop of water to cool his flaming tongue, as on earth they could not bestow that good which the righteous only can enjoy.

The Almighty has been pleased to unite our present and everlasting good with his service; and while we seek it in this his appointed way, we can never fail to be happy, if we persevere in doing good. He indeed is our master, and him only must we serve. We must not only give up all thoughts of permanent happiness in the things of this world, on account of their inadequacy to bestow that per

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fect good which we all so ambitiously seek; but we must, by God's help, destroy all feverish desire of amassing wealth, and of prosecuting our ambition in becoming great and wise.

All the avenues of our hearts and affections must be closed against the Sirens of pleasure, whose music is too alluring for us mortals to withstand; as, without this decision, we shall be perpetually hesitating between temptation and enjoyment, having neither courage to welcome their stay, nor hearts to bid them be gone.

Whatever we attempt to mix in the cup of joy, which Jesus hath given us to drink, will only embitter those sweet drops which he himself hath pressed into it; and the cup will pass away from us unsought, untasted and despised. Whatever gold we seek to lay up with our treasures in heaven, will render us poor instead of rich; for the riches of Christ's kingdom will not bear the mixture of such base alloy. And of a truth, I know not where is that consummate skill, which can so temper this earthly metal, as to fit it to be enshrined with the ethereal gold.

Our riches cannot consist in two treasures; our hearts cannot be divided between two masters; we cannot serve God and mammon. To sever the heart is to cause instant death; to divide the affections is to lose the soul. We can never embark upon the vain speculation of trafficking in the two

distinct hemispheres of earth and heaven, without certain loss and ruin to ourselves. The riches and objects of both are so distinct, and require such different services; that the weakness of man and shortness of life, forbid us to enter upon an object so unattainable, and so disproportionate to the powers of man.

How many, alas, of the sons of men in a moment have, contrary to "this" chart, which heaven hath granted us, set out with swelling sails in hope of enriching themselves with the wealth of such opposite countries; and while sailing with all the assurance of ignorance, have within sight of the long wished for shore, been wrecked, like Demas, and left us monuments for others' weal.