This is the prospect which his own imagination presented. But what was the sequel? In the midst of this dream, God said to him, “thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee." Awful reverse! In a moment his sky is overcast; the gilded prospect of the morning disappears; all his expectations are cut off, and his hopes are forever turned to despair. He dies, and that soul, whose immortal destiny he had forgotten, is summoned to the bar of judgment. It comes before God, whose merey it had abused, and whose power and justice it had defied. Where now is that wealth which he had accumulated in this world, or which he was so anxious to accumulate? Will it fill him with confidence in the presence of his Judge? Will it soothe the anguish of throbbing guilt? Will it purchase for him a moment's reprieve from the wide opening pit of hell? Alas! riches profit not in the day of wrath: the remembrance of them to the lost soul, will sting it with keen and eternal remorse. Who can look at this picture without saying, miserable end of a self-deluded mortal! Fool, indeed, to make this world his portion, while all that is honourable in a virtuous course, all that is valuable in the immortal soul, all that is pure and exalted in heaven is sacrificed. But pause a moment, brethren. On whom does this censure fall?

We are astonished at the man who is wholly intent on the pursuit of gain, while he neglects the salvation of his soul," a good all price beyond." But are none of us treading in his steps? The heart is deceitful above all things, and a covetous heart, perhaps, the most deceitful of all. On no subject do men more frequently mistake their own character. We often see those over whom this vice reigns with the most unlimited sway, apparent

ly as unconscious of the fact, as if their souls were baptised with the purest charity. They may even become a proverb for their covetousness without suspecting that this disposition has ever found its way into their hearts. But how is it with us? Are we so far absorbed in the world as to have neither time nor inclination to attend to the great duties of religion? Do we plead the multiplicity of our worldly cares as an excuse for neglecting the great and solemn concerns of our souls?

Then are we covetous. We indulge an inordinate desire for the good things of this world, and we are not willing to cast our care on divine providence in the humble discharge of our duty. We are not willing to seek the kingdom of God and his righteousness first of all, leaving it to the Lord to supply us with whatever is needful, according to his good promise. We tread in the steps of the rich worldling, whose heart was supremely set upon the acquisition and enjoyment of the present life.

But suppose we do not neglect the duties of religion altogether-yet if we attend to them only as our worldly interest and convenience will admit-if we subordinate them to the pursuits and acquisitions of the world, we are among the covetous, whom the Lord abhorreth. I will go farther. Suppose we are scrupulously attentive to all the external duties of religion, yet if our souls are not in them, what will it avail? If our hearts are not in heaven but on earth, are we not earthly? The Pharisees abounded in the rites and forms of religion, while they devoured widows' houses and gave other signs of the most deep rooted covetousness. Whoever toils chiefly for the body, not for the soul, is like the man in the parable, who laid up treasure for himself, but was not rich towards God. What shall be said of those,

who, though possessed of abundance, have seldom or never any thing to spare for the poor; whose well known covetousness chills the heart of every applicant? What shall be said of the litigious man, who has always some right in dispute, and who has a thousand times more concern for his earthly inheritance, than to secure a title to the promised rest? What shall be said of the deyouring usurer, who in defiance of the laws of God and society, grinds the face of the poor to satisfy his greedy thirst of gain? Are not these men under the reigning power of covetousness? Are they not in danger of being arrested by God himself, in the awful language of our text, "Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided?”

But admit that we could acquit ourselves of covetousness as a reigning sin, and that, none of the characters now mentioned, belong to us; still, has not this temper too manifest a hold of our hearts? Do we not think more about the world, and care more for the world than we ought to do? Do we not give less frequently, less bountifully, and less cheerfully, than if a spirit of covetousness was wholly eradicated from our hearts? Alas! brethren, covetousness is the sin of our times. It is a sin in the church, and a sin out of the church; a sin which, under the deceitful names of prudence and œconomy, chills the spirit of piety in many a bosom, and which daily loads with reproach that heaven-born religion, whose principle and end is charity.

What shall we do to counteract its baneful and wide spreading influence? Let us deeply fix in our hearts, the immense folly of seeking to become rich in this world, when it is to be done at the expense of any moral duty,

and at the hazard of our immortal souls. Let us remember, that wealth is but a painted bubble, which though it has a thousand charms for its votaries, can never make us happy. It cannot satisfy the covetous soul itself. It cannot bring peace to the troubled conscience; it cannot draw the sting of death.

Let us bear in mind, that we brought nothing into the world with us, and that it is certain we can carry nothing out; that death will soon strip us of all our worldly acquisitions, should our days be protracted to the longest period, and that for aught we can tell, it may be nigh, even at the door. Who ever felt more secure than the rich man in the parable, when he was occupied with the thoughts of pulling down his barns and building greater?" And yet God said to him, "Thou fool, this night shall thy soul be required of thee.”

We know not what a day may bring forth. Every moment we are liable to be torn from our possessions, and pass into eternity.

What madness is that, which causes our hearts to cleave to this world? Why are we so anxious to lay up treasures on earth, rather than in heaven? I beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of God: I beseech you by the hopes of an eternal heaven, and by the fears of an endless hell, that you withdraw your affections from this world; that instead of heaping up silver as the dust, and preparing raiment as the clay, you strive to become rich towards God. Fear not to give alms of such things as ye have; but remember, that to do good, and to communicate, is a sacrifice with which God is well pleased. By and by you will be put out of your stewardship; 0, how desirable to find one who will receive you into everlasting habitations!

I press you the more upon this subject, because it cannot be doubted, if we held the world with a looser hand, we should enjoy more real happiness while in the world, and should not find the same impediments to our entrance into the kingdom of God, when the business of this world is over. On the wings of faith let us rise to that rich and undefiled inheritance, whither Jesus the Saviour is gone, and to which he will bring all his true disciples at last: there are treasures incorruptible and immortal; treasures of increasing value, which can never be lost by misfortune, or torn away by violence; treasures which will continue to enrich and to bless their possessors through eternity.

Some, however, may be ready to felicitate themselves, that they are in no way concerned in this subject. Whatever vices or follies they possess, they are not covetous. They have no desire to hoard up wealth with a view to any future enjoyment. They spend liberally and cheerfully as they go. The parable of the rich worldling, they conceive is in no degree applicable to them.

To such let me say, are not your hearts fastened upon the world? It matters not, whether it be honour or pleasure, or gain which attract you. If you love the world, you will perish with the world. The rich man dreamed of one thing: you may dream of another: but your dreams will be alike delusive, alike ruinous. He who said to him, "Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee," may suddenly and unexpectedly pronounce the same awful language in your ears. Delay not then in detaching your affections from the world, Think often, and think solemnly of that dread eternity, which will soon swallow up all your interests and con