if we wanted a vintage, we should not plant the vine there; and if we looked for a harvest, we should not sow there: "Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?" They are not so ignorant, when they have to attain an object, as to seek it where it can never be found, to spend their money for that which is not bread, and to labour for that which satisfieth not; they are wiser in their generations than the children of light.

Such a wilderness is the world :—yes, my brethren, fruitful as it is in the things that make up the whole sum of happiness for the mere creatures of sense, far as the eye stretches over hills of cattle and valleys that stand thick with corn, it is very unfruitful in bringing "glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, goodwill towards men." Am I in trouble? —where shall I find rest from the days of adversity? Am I sick unto death ?-what physician, what balm, what hope can I procure below? Am I friendless?-can I find, within the compass of this vast sepulchre, a satisfying portion to supply my loss? Search the world over, visit where nature is most luxuriant, travel from scene to scene, and take up your abode at that which seems the loveliest and the fairest, and you will learn that all this promise of beauty is but a mantle that is thrown off in a moment, and no better than the weeds that cover some

:

Oh no! sin fed so greedily

forgotten grave. upon that paradise which God laid out and planted with so much care, that every beauty it had, withered; and man, the chiefest of his works, felt what he had done, the deepest of all he who had nothing in his bosom but love for God, now hid himself amongst the trees of the garden; he who could neither rise up nor lie down without a sacrifice of prayer and praise, could be easy in forgetting both; he who could once feed happily upon angels' food, now lusted after the flesh-pots of Egypt. And the same enmity has come down to this age strong as ever; it is discoverable in different degrees and in various forms. What is the lover of pleasure but the enemy of God? Does he love the world?" the love of the Father is not in him." What is the proud man-but a despiser of what the Bible tells him, “Behold I am against thee, O thou most proud, saith the Lord God of Hosts;" and what is He, who draweth near to Jesus with a " Hail, Master" and a kiss, whilst treachery lies lurking in his heart, but one of those who have only traced Christianity in the externals of religion, and have never looked for it in the soul?

These are the frequenters of the desert, who, because they know nothing of purer happiness, and are strangers to a better land,

would, if it were possible, fix their dwellings in it for ever.

But it is not only for its unfruitfulness that this wilderness is to be despised, but for its insecurity. It is the haunt and hiding place of every beast of prey. There is no safety for the traveller; for when he is saying, "peace, peace,' sudden destruction may come upon him, as travail upon a woman with child, and he shall not escape. And have we, as Christian travellers, any better security against the world, the flesh, or the devil? Whilst living without God, we are unarmed; the first enemy that springs upon us will be a destroyer. The defence of a believer lies in the helmet of salvation, and the shield of faith, but, above all, in his nearness to the cross of Christ; and being without God we are without any of those invisible safeguards which can alone turn away the arrow that flieth by day and the pestilence that walketh in darkness. Is it strange, then, that every storm which sweeps over this land of transgressors, should bring a sea of agitation into the soul? is it strange that the most unholy and unchristian tempers should rule it with a master's power? that by turns they should beset him, and betray him, and surprise him, when he has no knowledge of Christas a Saviour precious and beloved, and has never breathed after him as a hiding

place from the wind and a covert from the tempest, as a river of water in a dry place, and the shadow of a great rock in a weary land? Oh! come up from the waste places; delay will but increase your difficulties! Loiter a little longer, and the day of grace will have sunk into a night of terrible darkness; but be not so unwise as to perish, when your next step may bring you to the hill of the Lord. Make the effort in his strength; and, though the whole heart and soul have been hitherto paralyzed like the withered hand, you will find a current of health rush through them; so that not only shall you reach that throne of brightness and of grace where Jesus waits to redeem all his promises, but there you shall find out that all riches are treasured up in him, and readily join in that sweet prayer of David, "Whom have I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee."

Again: the wilderness is a solitary place.-Let the sun shine with ever so much splendourlet it throw its warmth over every region, it can minister neither light nor heat to the soul. Does not this truth receive an impression from your own experience? It is not so much the shining of the sun upon herbs and trees, as it is the shinings of the Spirit upon the mind that creates the peace that passeth all understanding. A soul may have in itself all the

nakedness and signs of winter, when summer leaves may be looking fresh and the melody of birds be sweet. The world, then, my brethren, with its busy scenes and its vast population, where multitudes may be deeply speculating in the concerns of life-the ungodly world, to one who has had a personal application of the invincible love of Christ, is indeed a solitary place. Paul bore his cross cheerfully; his duty was upon earth, but his treasure was in heaven. At times, indeed, his burthened spirit could not conceal this; and especially on that occasion when he addressed the Philippians: “To abide in the flesh is more needful for you, but to depart and be with Christ is far better." And in Job there is a remarkable instance of distress in the absence of his God; he appears to have lost the light of his countenance, and to be heavily cast down: "Behold," says he, "I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him; on the left hand where he doth work, but I cannot behold him; he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him."

The disciple is out of heart with the habitation where the Lord is not. Like Lot, "he is vexed with the foolish conversation of the wicked," and turns his back upon those who mind earthly things: he casts from him the once loved props of his dependance, for he sees