and survey him stretched upon the bed from which he is to rise no more. A death-bed discovers the real character of men; dissimulation is then at an end. At the close of the scene, the mask drops off, and the man appears in his true colours. Then, then, often for the first time, a man turns a serious eye upon himself; cut off from all connection with the living world; bidding adieu for ever to all below the sun; entering within the dominions of the dead, and about to appear before the judgement-seat of God; surrounded by the sad circle of his friends and attendants, he reads in their trembling looks that all is over with him, that his hour is come; then the illusion vanishes that was spread upon all earthly things; then the past rises up, often rises in bitter remembrance; then the future rushes upon his view with all its dark and unknown terrors; then the sense of Deity revives, which, however disguised, lies at the bottom of every heart; then conscience, rising up in majesty supreme, holds out such a picture of the eter nal world, as convinces the most unbelieving mind, convinces him, that a future state is not the dictate of a wild imagination, is not the fiction of priests and lawgivers, to terrify the ignorant, to keep the people in awe; he sees and feels that it is an awful reality. When the time of his departure is announced by the cold sweat and the shivering limbs, and the voice faultering in the throat, he casts a look, perhaps a sad one, on all that he leaves behind. Then the whole creation fades from his view, the world seems to be dissolved, and, to the closing eye, nothing appears but God alone; that God, before whose tribunal he is summoned to appear.

If this fate shall one day be ours, what manner of persons ought we now to be? At that hour, the very best shall wish they had been better, and, after all the preparation that we have made, we shall wish that we had made more. Let this thought have its influence in determining us to the choice of objects which we pursue, and the course of life which we embrace. The greatest part of mankind, having no fixed or certain plan of life, have no choice in the objects which present themselves, but give the loose rein to a wandering inclination, and follow on without thinking, where accident points the way. Here, therefore, let us often pause, and seriously ask ourselves, Is the course of life, which I am now engaged in, of such a nature, that it will bear a review upon the bed of death?

Are the motives of my present conduct, and the reasons which now determine me to action, so strong and wellfounded, that I could plead them in my defence at the bar of eternal justice? If that is not the case, consider and be wise before it is too late. Why should you vex yourselves in vain? Why should you pass your time in such a manner, as to make its end bitter? Why will you treasure up to yourselves anguish, and remorse, and tribulation, and make no other use of the present time, but to imbitter your last bour? Be consistent with yourselves. You cannot live the life of the wicked, and die the death of the righteous. Let, therefore, your course of action be of that kind, that draws no repentance after it; then shall your path in life be like the morning light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day.

Having thus set out, and made progress in the ways of righteousness, you will look forward with joy. This will cause the evening of your days to smile, and the stream of life to run clear to the last. Let this consideration moderate our attachment to earthly things. What profit hath a man in that sore travel to which he is appointed. under the sun? Why should we vex ourselves in vain, deny ourselves to the enjoyments of life, withdraw sleep from our eyes, and peace from our minds? Why should we add to the evils of life, and carry about with us a burden to the grave? Even with a view to present tranquillity and enjoyment, this is folly of the first magnitude; but, when we take in the consideration of a future life, it is worse than folly, it is sin. If we are entirely immersed in the concerns of this world; if earthly things occupy and engross our whole attention, what shall we do when God taketh away the soul? How will the closing eye contemplate the pomp and glitter of life, the evil of avarice, the bustling of ambition, and all this circle of vanity with which we are now enchanted? Use this world, therefore, as not abusing it; let not the business or the pleasures of it take hold of your heart; make them not essential to your happiness; sit loose to them; remember that the fashion of this world passeth away; and that deatir soon puts a period to the scene, which no wise man would wish to last for ever.

IV. By making the thought of death present to us, let us regulate our conduct with respect to the friendships which we form, and concerning the animosities which we entertain.

Affection and friendship are the best and most valuable part of human nature. The heart of man wishes to be kind, and looks around for objects. This fund of generous love is often misapplied; this favourable bias of humanity is often perverted; sometimes, by that general and indiscriminate good nature which looks upon all men as alike; sometimes, by frivolous attachments, founded upon a conformity of trifling dispositions; and, sometimes, by a more criminal alliance, by a partnership in iniquity. In the course of business, indeed, we must converse with persons of all kinds. No man has the choice of the companies into which he may fall; but every man has the choice of the friends with whom he cultivates more intimate connections. In forming these connections, therefore, let us look forward to the time when they shall be dissolved, and let us live only with such persons with whom we would desire to die.

This thought should also check us in the animosities which we are apt to entertain. In the present state of things, where men think so differently, where opposite passions are felt, and interfering interests occur, dissensions will naturally arise. And, where men have not the aid of philosophy to restrain, or the influence of divine. grace to subdue their passions, these will often be attend. ed with dismal effects. From this root proceeds the wormwood which imbitters the cup of human life. But, when the blood begins to cool, when the passions grow calmer, reason re-assumes its office, greater moderation will prevail; things will appear in a different light; honest and candid men will then look back with pain upon. those excesses, to which they have been carried by the impetuosity of passion. However some men choose to live, all men would wish to die at peace with their neighbours; there is no enmity in the grave; there is no discord in the house which is appointed for all living; there friends and foes rest together in peace, and the ashes of those, who were mortal enemies, mingle together in friendly alliance. Let us, therefore, now cultivate those benevolent dispositions to all men, and live in those habits with our neighbours, which we would wish to prevail in us at the hour of death.

These exhortations, my young friends, I address particularly to you. You are apt to reckon yourselves privileged from death: you put the evil day far off; you pro

mise to yourselves a length of happy days, and think that melancholy reflections upon mortality are ill suited to the bloom of your years, and the gaiety of your spirits. "Let the old," you say, "think upon death; let those who are drawing nigh to the grave, prepare for that better world to which they are advancing; but sure it is the duty of the young and the gay to make the most of life.". True; and in order to make the most of life, you must conquer the fear of death. The king of terrors when not subdued is the most formidable of all foes. In every path of life he will meet you, and haunt you like a ghost; even at the banquet his form will appear; he will blast you in the midst of your joy, and turn the house of mirth into a house of mourning. Trust not, O man, to thy youth, nor presume upon impunity from the destroyer. How often, when the tree puts forth buds, and spreads its blossoms to the sun, does the wind of the desart come and blast the hopes of the year! The widow of Nain wept over her son, who died, fair in the prime of life; and many a parent hath followed his child to the grave, crying with bitter lamentation, "Would to God that I had died for thee, my son! my son!" Your own experience may enforce this truth. None, who now hear me, but have seen their equals in age cut off, and younger than they laid in the grave. As, therefore, you are always in danger, be always on your guard. Instead of filling you with gloom and melancholy, this is the true way to prevent them.Having subdued the last enemy, you have none other to fear. Adopted into the family of God, interested in the merits of Christ, entitled to the glories of immortality, you go forward through life and death, conquering and to conquer. Then all things are yours: death is a passage to a better life, and the gate to immortality.

Much more is it incumbent on you, my aged friends, to consider your latter end. Why stand you here all the day idle? Consider how vain, and foolish, and sinful, it is to be forming schemes of long life, when you are within the threshold of the house of death? Consider how terrible will be the hour, if you have never thought of death till you come to die; like Jonah, to be awakened from a sound sleep, and to be cast into the ocean.Look into life, behold a young generation rising around you, and you yourselves left alone in a new world. Look into the records of mortality, into the repositories of the

dead, and hear your equals in age calling to you from the tomb, and warning you to prepare for that fate which is theirs to-day, and may be yours to morrow. Embrace, therefore, the opportunities of grace which you now enjoy. Whilst the Prince of Peace extends the golden sceptre, kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from his presence. Be wise, and consider your end that is so

near,

SERMON XXXI.

JESU

MATTHEW xi. 30.

My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

ESUS hath lately been addressing to you the gracious invitation which here he gives to penitent sinners. With his invitation you have testified your compliance. Last Lord's day you confessed at these tables, that you were weary and heavy laden with the yoke of the world; that you came to Jesus in hopes of finding rest to your souls; and that you were resolved to learn of him, and to take his yoke upon you. The good confession, my friends, which you then witnessed, the happy choice which you then made, you will never have cause to repent. The world, indeed, will represent religion to you as a heavy burden and a galling yoke; but I assure you, upon the authority of Jesus Christ, and upon the testimony of all his disciples, that his yoke is easy, and his burden is light; that his commandments are not grievous; and the ways he points out to his followers are ways of pleasantness and paths of peace.

The ease and pleasure of the Christian life is to be the subject of the present discourse. But, before I enter upon it, I have one observation to make, which is, That, in order to taste the joys of religion, we must have been accustomed to its government, and made advances in the divine life. We never can have a taste for any pursuit,