dead, and about to appear before the judgment-feat of God; furrounded by the fad 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 illufion vanishes that was fpread upon all earthly things; then the past rises up, often rifes in bitter remembrance; then the future rufhes upon his view with all its dark and unknown terrors; then the fenfe of Deity revives, which, however difguised, lies at the bottom of every heart; then confcience, rifing up in majesty supreme, holds out fuch a picture of the eternal world, as convinces the most unbelieving mind, convinces him, that a future ftate is not the dictate of a wild imagination, is not the figment of priests and lawgivers, to terrify the ignorant, and keep the people in awe; he fees and feels that it is an awful reality. When the time of his departure is announced by the cold fweat and the shivering limbs, and the voice faltering in the throat, he cafts a last look, perhaps a fad one, on all that he leaves behind. Then the whole creation fades from his view, the world feems to be diffolved, and, to the clofing eye, nothing appears but God alone; that God, before whofe tribunal he is fummoned to appear.

If this fate shall one day be ours, what manner of perfons ought we now to be? At that hour, the very best shall wish that they had been better, and after all the preparation that we have made, we fhall 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 courfe 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 paufe, and feriously afk ourfelves, Is the courfe of life which I am now engaged in, of fuch a nature that it will bear a review upon the bed of death? Are the motives of my present conduct, and the reafons which now determine me to action, so strong and well founded, that I could plead them in my defence at the bar of eternal juftice? If that is not the cafe, confider and be wise before it is too late. Why should you vex yourselves in vain? Why should you pafs your time in fuch a manner, as to make its end bitter? Why will you treafure up to yourselves anguifh and remorfe and tribulation, and make no other use of the present time, but to embitter your last hour? Be confiftent with yourselves. You cannot live the life of the wicked, and die the death of the righteous. Let,. therefore, your courfe 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 fet out, and made progress in the ways of righteousness, you will look forward with joy. This will caufe the evening of your days to fmile, and the stream of life to run clear to the laft. Let this confideration moderate our attachment to earthly things. What profit hath a man in that fore travel to which he is appointed under the fun? Why fhould we vex ourselves in vain, deny ourselves to the enjoyments of life, withdraw fleep from our eyes,

and peace from our minds? Why fhould we add to the evils of life, and carry about with us a burden to the grave? Even with a view to prefent tranquillity and enjoyment, this is folly of the firft magni. tude; but, when we take in the confideration of a future life, it is worfe than folly, it is fin. If we are entirely immerfed in the concerns of this world; if earthly things occupy and engrofs our whole attention, what fhall we do when God taketh away the foul? How will the clofing eye contemplate the pomp and glitter of life, the evil of avarice, the buftling of ambition, and all this circle of vanity to which we are now enchanted? Ufe this world, therefore, as not abufing it; let not the business or the pleasures of it take hold of your heart, make them not effential to your happiness, fit loofe to them, remember that the fashion of this world paffeth away, and that death foon puts a period to the scene, which no wife man would wifh to last for ever.

In the fourth place, 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 animofities 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 mifapplied; this favourable bias of humanity is often perverted; sometimes by that general and indifcriminate good nature which looks upon all men as alike; fometimes by frivolous attachments, founded upon a conformity of trifling difpofitions; and fometimes by a more criminal alliance, by a partnership in iniquity. In

the course of business, indeed, we must converse with perfons 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 connexions. In forming these connexions, therefore, let us look forward to the time when they shall be diffolved, and let us live only with fuch perfons with whom we would defire to die.

This thought fhould alfo check us in the animofities which we are apt to entertain. In the present state of things, where men think fo differently, where oppofite paffions are felt, and interfering interests occur, diffenfions will naturally arife. And, where men have not the aid of philofophy to restrain, or the influence of divine grace to subdue their pasfions, these will often be attended with dismal effects. From this root proceeds the wormwood which embitters the cup of human life. But when the blood begins to cool, when the paffions grow calmer, reafon reaffumes 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 exceffes to which they have been carried by the impetuofity of paffion. 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 difcord in the house which is appointed for all living there friends and foes reft together in peace, and the afhes of those who were mortal enemies, mingle together in friendly alliance. Let us, therefore, now cultivate thofe benevolent difpofitions to all men, and live in those habits with our neighbours,

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which we would wish to prevail in us at the hour of death.

Thefe exhortations, my young friends, I addrefs particularly to you. You are apt to reckon yourfelves privileged from death; you put the evil day far off; you promife to yourfelves a length of happy days, and think that melancholy reflections upon mortality, are ill fuited to the bloom of your years, and the gaiety of your fpirits. "Let the old,” you fay, "think upon death; let those who are "drawing nigh to the grave, prepare for that better "world to which they are advancing; but fure 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 fubdued, is the most formidable of all foes. In every path of life he will meet you, and haunt you like a ghoft: 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. Truft not, O man, to thy youth, nor presume upon impunity from the destroyer. How often, when the tree puts forth buds, and spreads its bloffoms to the fun, does the wind of the defert come and blaft 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 fon! 66 my fon!" 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,