tion, and yet the attempt added celebrity to his life, and in the bosom of the church embalmed his memory. But why do I mention these instances! Jesus Christ himself did not succeed in his mission to the Jews. But though Israel were not gathered, yet was he glorious in the eyes of the Lord, and in the eyes of all his people.

There are those who exclaim, whenever the salvation of the heathen is proposed, There is a Lion in the way. And were it so, this would not diminish the propriety, nor would even failure mar the glory of the attempt.

The interposition of the Son of God in behalf of sinners, is the highest act of benevolence that the universe ever saw. Redemption by the cross -how admirable, how passing admiration. Creation assumes fresh loveliness, and the Creator shines in brighter glories wherever it is published. What then must be the glory of its publishers? What their glory who contribute to its publica

tion.

God, from his throne, beholds not a nobler character on his footstool, than the fervent missionary, the man, who inspired with zeal, and burning with love, bids adieu to his friends, abandons his comfort, and his home, braves the perils of the deep, encounters hunger and thirst, and nakedness, and persevering through dangers and deaths, proclaims the Savior to those who know him

not.

Yes! venerable messengers of salvation, who preach Christ in deserts, and publish glad tidings on the islands of distant seas, we admire your zeal; we emulate your virtue, and by contributing to the object in which you are engaged, would become partakers in your glory; and partakers we shall be if we truly aspire to it.—In the estimation of heaven our services are appreciated, not by the good we accomplish, but the sincerity, the strength, and constancy of our exertions.

Cease, then, Christians to object; act worthy of yourselves, and remember, that "they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many unto righteousness, as the stars, for ever and ever."

Convinced of your duty, do you ask how, situated at a distance, as you are, you can contribute to the alleviation of Pagan misery? How?

By your prayers. God hath promised that the Gentiles shall be gathered in. He is hastening to accomplish what he hath promised, and yet for this will he "be enquired of by the house of Israel." Wherefore, " ye that make mention of the Lord, keep not silence, and give him no rest, till he establish, and till he make Jerusalem a praise in the earth."

By your property. To Christianize the heathen, as well as to succour your destitute brethren on the frontiers, missionaries must be sent to them; these

missionaries will be the channels of your kindness. But missionaries cannot be maintained by prayers; you must give of your property: without this, your prayers will be unavaling. Curst be that charity which says to the hungry, be ye fed; to the naked, be ye cloathed, and to Pagans be ye saved, and relieves them not.

Here then I come to the conclusion of this discourse. Your love, for Jesus, your concern for souls, is now to be tested by your contributions for their relief.

The Savior could easily furnish means for this, from his own resources. He could command the heavens to supply the ambassadors of his grace with bread, and the flinty rock to furnish them with wate. But, it is more blessed to give than to receive. This the Savior knows, and having, in the profusion of his goodness, loaded you with treasure, he condescends to ask, and to receive from you, a part of that treasure and this he does, pot that He needs it, but that you may have an opportunity of likening yourselves to God by the imitation of his sublime munificence, who delights in doing good, and whose tender mercies are over al his works.

In this light I place the subject. And now O my God, what more shall I say? Can the unfeeling heart of man contemplate miseries the most extreme, and not be moved ?-From the hill of Zion, beaming with light, and smiling with life,

let me direct your view to the vale of darkness, and the shadow of death.

Yonder are the Pagans. Friends of humanity, O that I could describe to you!-cold, naked, famished, friendless roaming the desert, burning with revenge, and thirsting for blood.

Yonder are the Pagans. Friends of Immanuel, O that I could describe them to you, assembled on the ground of enchantment, practising the delusions of witchcraft, insulting the heavens by the sacrifice of dogs, and paying their impious adorations at the shrines of devils!

From these profane devotions, the hoary warrior retires. His steps totter with age, he reaches the threshold of his hut, and sinks beneath infirmities, on the cold earth, his bed of death. No sympathizing friend partakes in his misery, no filial hand is stretched out for his relief. The wife of his youth has forsaken him,-his daughters are carried captive, -his sons have been slain in battle. Exhausted with sufferings, and weary of life, he turns his eye upon the grave. But the grave to him is dark and silent. Not a whisper of comfort is heard from its caverns, or a beam of light glitters on its gloom. Here the curtain drops, time ceases, eternity begins: Mighty God, how awful is the scene which follows! But I dare not attempt to lift the vail that covers it. A moment since, and this immortal soul was within the reach of prayer : now its destiny is fixed, and just, eternal Sovereign! are thy decisions. From that bourn beyond which

submission is our only duty, turn again to the living world, where your prayers and exertions may be availing.

Is there a father in this assembly, who, high in the hopes of heaven, brings his infant offspring to these altars, and places them by faith in the arms of Jesus? I plead in behalf of fathers who have never heard of heaven, and whose offspring have no Savior.

Is there a mother in this assembly, blessed by the affection of her husband, and solaced by the smiles of her daughters ? I plead in behalf of mothers, whose husbands are tyrants, and whose daughters are slaves.

Could I believe, that dead to the stranger's sufferings, you needed kindred objects to awaken your sympathy, and open your hearts to charity, I would here direct your attention to the frontier settlements, and beseech you by the strength of parental affection, by the tenderness of fraternal love, though deaf to our intreaties for the Pagans, at least to hear us in behalf of Christians, of your children, your brethren, your kindred with whom you once took sweet counsel, and walked to the house of God in company but who, now removed far from the pleasant habitations of Zion, without a temple and without an altar, wander in the deserts of Hermon, and pour out their complaints on the hill of Mizar, "How amiable are thy taberna