the good, as well as the unthinking and the vicious, "to the house appointed for all living."

No occasion is there to advert to the loss of life occasioned by the wide-wasting sword; to "the pestilence that walketh in darkness, or to the sickness that destroyeth by the noon-day."-The hand of violence in peace, nay, the casualties occasioned by the arts of peace, by the intricacies of machinery, or the escape of imprisoned air, are still fulfilling the primeval sentence, "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." Innumerable other causes, pregnant with woe, scatter the sound of a monitory knell to each passing gale, and proclaim aloud that "the house appointed for all living" still yawns for more inhabitants; still opens her capacious receptacle to the victims of desolating fire, of the devouring ocean, of the wide-sweeping wintry storm, and the all-overwhelming earthquake. Nor does casualty deal with its victims only by large and magnificent operations, which attract the notice of the world by tales of widespread horror; it arrests the footstep of the unsuspecting passenger in the public street; it weaves its insidious toils in the recesses of our houses. He therefore must assuredly be unthinking and unwise, who is not aware that "in the midst of life we are in death;" and who does not consider that, when he meditates upon a scheme, which is connected with a prolongation of life, "he is building a house upon the sand; and the rain will descend, and the winds blow, and beat upon that house; and great shall be the fall of it."

a Matt. vii. 26, 7.

For, in the last place, we are constrained to remember, if we will reflect at all upon such a momentous subject, that this life is not only short and uncertain, but delusive and unsatisfactory as to its pursuits and projects, its pleasures and enjoyments. As social beings, we are so intimately connected, and, as it were, jumbled together, that the success of the best-laid schemes may be thwarted by mere accident and mistake; by the thoughtless negligence, or the rash presumption of those, with whom we are cooperating; or by the superior skill or good fortune of those, against whom we are engaged. Then if schemes of worldly good prosper, yet envy annoys, or malice blights, or riches corrupt, or pleasure disappoints. So that, in addition to the shortness and précariousness of existence itself, even the things for which existence is valued, either elude our grasp, or confound our expectations, or cloy with the very possession; and thus, not merely Job, in the midst of his affliction, had occasion to exclaim "my days are vanity;" but even Solomon, in the height of his worldly prosperity, amidst the gratification of every wish, which riches, honour, renown, and power, and pleasure could impart, still breathed out the same truth, and re-echoed the same complaint." Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher, all is vanity."" The sum therefore of our human existence, its hopes and fears, its joys and sorrows, may be briefly comprehended in these few sentences: "Behold, thou hast made my days as an hand-breadth, and mine age is

a Job vii. 16.

b Eccles. i. 2. xii. 8.

as nothing before Thee: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Surely every man walketh in a vain shew: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them."

The conclusion of the matter before us is as follows: "If we know that God will bring us to death,” the end of our existence should never come upon us unawares; If we are assured that there is a "house appointed for all living," we should be prepared to take up our abode in it. If this termination of life were unattended with any other consequence but the extinction of existence, the knowledge of such a truth should teach us not to covet too eagerly things, which can last only for a time; not to pay too great a price for the possession of objects, which may probably disappoint us. But when we add to the certainty of death, the certainty of judgement after death, wisdom then suggests that the great, the only valuable, purpose of a life that is short, is to provide for our wellbeing in one that is long. The present existence is placed in its real light, and employed to its best purpose, then only, when it is made subservient to the attainment of a higher and happier state of being. The knowledge of a Judgement to come should, above all things, abate our anxiety for the possessions and enjoyments, which are attainable here.-Under any view of things, the scene below is transitory, is deceitful. Surely then the voice of Reason combines with the call of Virtue, and instructs us to look

a Ps. xxxix. 5, 6.

upon Life as a mere passage to Eternity. While we naturally are desirous of providing such necessaries as may render our journey comfortable, still our great solicitude, our chief desire, should be prompted by the hope of securing a favourable reception, when that journey shall have been brought to a close. Amidst the pressure of worldly concerns, which wholly engross inferior minds, the ambition of a Christian will soar to higher, to unperishable, objects. Viewing himself ❝as a stranger and pilgrim upon earth," his plans will be formed, and his thoughts directed, by the hope of being permitted at length to reach in safety that only lasting abode; the refuge and resting-place of every true follower of a crucified Lord; "an house, not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." tra

a

SERMON III.

AGAINST IMMODERATE LOVE OF THE WORLD.

1

1 JOHN II. 15.

LOVE NOT THE WORLD, NEITHER THE THINGS THAT ARE IN THE WORLD.

Or the world, implying its possessions and honours; its occupations and pleasures; as well as its cares and disappointments; it is by no means a subject of wonder that they, who are connected with it, should entertain different ideas; that such difference should occasionally run into extremes; but that the prevailing opinion should be in its favour, and lead the majority of men to pursue its seeming advantages with unwise and unseasonable ardour. Some of the sages of ancient Greece professed to consider it as an object of aversion. The Cynic derided, and the Stoic contemned it. Their example has been followed, though upon different grounds, by the Devotees of the East and Ascetics of the West. Both, from religious motives, have set at nought its pleasures, forsaken its duties, but incurred its inconveniences and its pains. Others again, who have not been misled by any principle of austere devotion or religious melancholy, have rushed into the contrary extreme, and adopted, too exclusively and too inconsiderately, the more bewitching suggestions of Epicurus and Aristippus. In their