which, it is not to be denied, is, at first, irksome to the native propensities of his heart, but which the grace of God renders more and more easy, and even delightful, and which is often actually less than that of the worldling himself? For what does the disciple of Christ bear this yoke? For an inheritance that is "incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away;" for an admittance into the mansions of everlasting rest; for an imperishable treasure; for unalloyed pleasures; for an endless state of being, in which he will mingle with the spirits of the just made perfect, in which he will be admitted to the presence of God-to the ineffable manifestations of his glory-to the sublime delights of his worship-to the solution of the mysteries of his providence and, in fine, to an unceasing progress in knowledge, in holiness, and in happiness. What are the petty cares and anxieties, or even the deepest sorrows of life, when compared with this weight of glory? Shall the man of this world be deemed wise and prudent, because he relinquishes his present ease and quiet for the acquisition of some temporal good; and shall the christian deserve reproach, because he deems heaven itself worth some crosses and sacrifices, as he is passing to it through his short pilgrimage? Shall the man of this world continually solace himself with the prospect of what he is soon to obtain, and shall this be thought, in the eyes of others, a most sober, and rational, and manly kind of happiness; and shall the Christian not feel a far sweeter solace-shall

not his enjoyment be deemed the most rational and the most noble of all-when it is founded on the absolute promise of God, that through the tribulations of this life he shall pass to a state of complete and endless bliss?

Admitting, then, that he who sets at nought all the restraints of religion-who will not listen to the dictates of conscience-who resists every influence of the Spirit of God upon his soul-who rejects the only Saviour of sinners-who will not bear his yoke, deeming it a hard and unreasonable service; -admitting that such an one accomplishes all his purposes of ambition or of pleasure, that he enjoys this world to the full, and that his grey hairs go down to the grave with mirth and gladness;-yet there is an end of his bliss; for the music of pleasure never breaks the silence of the tomb; the voice of ambition never rouses its slumbering inhabitants; the charms of wealth can no longer glitter before them. The world is left behind. The body moulders in the earth, and the spirit-the immaterial, the immortal spirit—is gone-Whither? The unbeliever cannot tell the philosopher cannot tell. A dark and gloomy cloud hangs over the unknown ocean of eternity; and it is the dread of launching into this ocean which the man of this world cannot shake from his bosom. He is surrounded with ease and pleasure and riches and honour; but his eye is continually directed to the future; and this single thought of what may be hereafter often embitters the moment in which he

had anticipated the greatest delight. On the contrary, the disciple of Jesus Christ, supposing him to suffer all the possible evils of life-poverty, disgrace, reproach, sickness, imprisonment, or death, and death in its most horrid forms-counts these trials nothing. He is sure they will soon be ended. The grave will be to him the door of paradise. He knows in whom he has believed. His path is now beset with thorns; his sky is overshadowed with clouds; the tempest is beating upon his head: but now and then his heart is gladdened while his eye catches a few beams of that sunshine which will hereafter continually cheer his course through a day of bright and eternal splendor.

Behold, my brethren, the immense difference between the man of this world and the Christian. Weigh well the comparison which has been made between them: it is a comparison not founded on a mere fiction. It is not a philosophical hypothesis which is yet to be proved. It rests on two obvious principles of common sense, which a man would not dare to reject in the ordinary concerns of life, lest he should be deemed as simple as a child, or as complete a sensualist as the very brutes who graze around him. These principles are, that it is the part of prudence not to be so much engrossed with present objects, as to be regardless of the future; and that it is our duty to make proportionate, and in some cases therefore great, sacrifices for the attainment of distant good. -In applying these principles I have not done

I have supposed

justice to the Christian's cause. it possible for the man of the world to enjoy this life to the full, and I have spoken of the disciple of Christ, as one, like his Divine Master, "despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;" as having every earthly comfort shorn from his side, and nothing left him but trust in God, the approbation of his own conscience, that internal peace which cometh down from the Source of all good, and that hope of heaven which is as an anchor to his soul both sure and stedfast. I might have drawn a very different picture, and a far juster one. The man of the world might have been represented as pursuing shadows which elude his grasp, as catching at splendid bubbles which immediately melt in air. Something might have been said of the wearisomeness which soon intrudes itself at the board of festivity; of the disgust which often enters the haunts of pleasure; of the satiety which is the inseparable companion of sensuality; of the toil and anxiety, the jealousies and envyings, the disappointments and defeats of ambition; of the emptiness of honour, and of the cares of wealth. On the other hand, the Christian might have been described as not called to suffer the same wretchedness as did the primitive disciple of Christ. It might have been shewn, that bound as he is, not to shrink from any evil which men may inflict upon him, on account of the cause which he has espoused-nor to refuse making any sacrifice of earthly good for the sake of that Saviour

in whom he trusts-still he is permitted (so much gentler are the dispensations of God toward his church than they have formerly been) to use this world if he do not abuse it, and even to possess its wealth and its honours, if he do but devote them to the service of God.

And is it not reasonable, then, my brethren, to put confidence in the words of Jesus Christ, when he invites us to come unto him that we may find rest unto our souls? Shall we not 'consent to bear his yoke without murmuring, when he so truly assures us that it is easy and his burden light? Surely, the requisitions of the Gospel, the duties and the trials of a Christian, are not well understood, or they would not so often be rejected.It is admitted by all, that unalloyed happiness is not the lot of man. Every eye is directed to something future every heart beats with the hope of what it may yet enjoy. The world is tried by its thousand votaries, in their thousand different paths, and all confess that it continues to impose upon them. In the mean while, life is wasting away; the roses are withering with which the man of pleasure has loved to crown himself; the honours are fading which have blushed in such thick abundance upon the son of ambition; the gold is soon to be scattered, he knows not where, that now fill the coffers of the rich man. Even the charms of philosophy and literature fade from the eye which has long feasted upon them. The dearest of all earthly good-social and domestic