neighbours, whom they were no longer worthy to govern. P'ublic depravity paves the way for public ruin. When the health and vigour of the political constitution is broken, it is hastening to its decline. When internal symptoms of weakness appear, the least external violence will accomplish its dissolution. Besides the natural tendency of virtue to make nations great and happy, if we have just notions of divine Providence, if we believe that the perfections of God are at all concerned in human affairs, then virtuous nations must be his peculiar care, and under his immediate protection: he will counsel their counsellors, cover their armies in the day of battle, and crown them with victory and peace.

SERMON XXX.

HEBREWS ix. 27.

It is appointed to men once to die; but after this the judg

ment.

EATH is the conclusion of all events; of all that ever

DEAT

have been, and of all that ever will be. The schemes of the base, and the plots of the ambitious, the projects of the visionary, the studies of the learned, all terminate here. However different the paths be that we take in life, they all lead to the grave. Whilst, therefore, we make death the subject of contemplation, and meditate upon the house which is appointed for all living, let us take this thought along with us, that we shall bear a part in those scenes which we now describe, and that we are meditating on a fate which will one day be our own.

I. Let us consider death as an event, the period of which is uncertain.

In the days when Noah entered into the ark, they did cat, they drank, they married, they were given in marriage; and the flood came, and destroyed them all. On the day that Lot went out of Sodom, they did eat, they drank,

they bought, they sold, they planted, they builded; and it rained fire and brimstone from heaven, and destroyed them all. As it was in the days of Noah, and in the days of Lot, even thus, my friends, shall it be to you, when the day of death cometh. In the present state of things the soul of man is blind to futurity. Surrounded with material objects, and occupied in present affairs, we make these the sole objects of attention; we find in them the only sources of attachment, and overlook those spiritual and distant events on which our future life and happiness depend. Hence we are always surprised with our latter end, and the day of the Lord cometh like a thief in the night. No instruction can make us so wise as to consider our latter end; no warning can incite us to set our houses in order, that we may die; and no example give the alarm so strong, as to set us on serious preparation for meeting with God. Void of thought, and careless of futurity, we live on from day to day, like the victim that plays and dances before that altar where its blood is to be shed. Even after the longest life, and under the most lingering sickness, death comes unexpected; the arrow is still unseen that strikes through the heart.

This is not peculiar to a few men; it describes a general character, and is exemplified in all the classes of life.-This infatuation does not arise from ignorance. You all know that death in certain; you all know that it is generally unexpected. You assent to every thing that we can say upon this head, that there is no action of life but what may lead to its end, and no moment of time but what may be our last. You need not be informed, that death spares no age; your own observation presents you with many instances of persons cut off in all periods of life. In that church-yard, you see graves of every length; on those monuments of mortality, you read the histories of the promising boy, of the blooming youth, of the man in middle life, and of the hoary head, mingled together in sad assemblage amongst the abodes of the dead. You can reckon up instances of persons cut off in a sudden and unexpected manner; of a Herod who was struck amidst the applauses of the people: of a Jezebel who was thrown headlong from that window where she had prepared to display herself to the people; of a Belshazzar who was slain at a banquet, when he was carousing with his princes, his concubines, and his wives; and of a Holophernes,

who met his fate, surrounded with his army, and crowned with victory and fame.

With all these in your memory, you act as if you were immortal. Even the death of those who fall around us, and before our eyes, affects us not with serious concern. One person opposed us in a favourite object, and we rejoice at his decease; another stood in our way to preferment and power; the death of a third opens to us a prospect of rising to wealth and fortune: we profit not by all these lessons of mortality; the voice from the tomb sends us back to the world, and from the very ashes of the dead there comes a fire that rekindles our earthly desires. We look upon all our neighbours as mortal; we form schemes to ourselves upon their decease, but forget all the while that we ourselves are to die. O foolish and infatuated race will you always continue deaf to the voice of wisdom? Will neither the instructions of the living, nor the warnings of the dead, induce you to serious thoughts? Will you continue to lengthen your prospects, when perhaps you stand upon the very verge of life; and can you enjoy the feast, when the sword hangs over your head by a single hair? Who knoweth what a day may bring forth; the morning has smiled upon multitudes, who, before the evening, have slept the sleep of death. Who knoweth how soon you may be hurried to the judgmentseat of God? The ears, which hear these sayings, may soon be shut for ever; and the heart which now throbs at the thought, may, in a little, be mingled with the clods of the valley. Some, who last Lord's day worshipped within these walls, are now gone to the eternal world, and God only knows how soon some of us may follow.

Seeing, then, that life is so uncertain, that the thread thereof breaks at every blast, let me exhort you to set apart some time for serious meditation upon your mortality. Let it be on some solemn occasion, in the silent hour of night, when deep sleep falleth on man, when midnight closeth awful all the world, and nought in nature is awake but God and thee; there in deep and solemn meditation, think over the terrors of that house which is appointed for all living, and with the ancient patriarch, say to corruption, "Thou art my father," and to the worm, "Thou art my mother and my sister." Ask seriously at your own heart, "Should these eyes never open upon the light of another day; should the awful mandate issue forth from

the Almighty Arbiter of life and death-" This night, this night thy soul shall be required of thee;" Could you, without fear and trembling, face the tribunal of God, the Judge of all? If frighted nature starts back and trembles at the thought of instant dissolution, make your former life pass before you in review, compare it with the law of God. If your former mispent time comes up before you in sad remembrance; if your past transgression stare you in the face, and point to the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone,instantly, and without delay, whilst the gate of heaven is yet open, whilst the throne of mercy is yet accessible, prostrate yourselves before God in deep humility and abasement; mourn over the sins of your past life in bitterness of soul; believe in a crucified Redeemer, who died for the sins of the world; implore compassion and forgiveness from the Father of mercies, through the merits of Jesus Christ. Thus continue fervent in prayer and supplication, and in the exercise of faith and repentance. Give not sleep to your eyes, nor slumber to your eye-lids, till you have made your peace with God, till you feel within yourselves that peace which passeth all understanding, that joy which is unspeakable and glorious. Thus continue, at solemn and stated occasions, to consider your latter end, till death shall grow familiar to your mind, till the grave shall gradually lose its terrors, and the Sun of Righteousness arise upon you in full glory.

II. Let me remind you, that a good life is the best preparation for death. You may lay it down as a maxim, confirmed by universal experience, that every man dies as he lives; and it is by the general tenor of the life, not a particular frame of mind at the hour of death, that we are to be judged at the tribunal of God. It is a dangerous mistake which prevails amongst men, that it is sufficient for their eternal happiness, if they feel some serious emotions at their latter end. If your life has been wicked, what will it avail you, that, on your death-bed, you have been actuated with sorrow for your offences? Judas Iscariot felt such a sorrow when he went to his own place. Late conversions are not to be trusted to, and death-bed repentances are generally nothing more than the first gnawing of the worm that shall never die. Suppose death to halt a little, the sick person recovers, washes his couch with floods of penitential tears; a thousand vows of amendment are made; but, if repentance lasts no longer than

sickness, the disease and the devotion go off together; the man returns to walk in his former ways.

Be blameless, therefore, and harmless in the general tenor of your life. Keep a conscience void of offence towards God and towards man. Let not the sun go down upon one unrepented sin. Make it your business every night to review the actions of the foregoing day. If, through the frailty of nature, or the force of temptation, you have sinned against God, prostrate yourselves before the throne of grace, ask pardon through Christ. As you would not wish to yourselves distress, and anguish, and tribulation, at the day of death; as you would not wish to bring down your gray hairs with sorrow to the grave; beware of persisting in a course of unrepented sin.

Notwithstanding, however, the utility of such meditations, there is no subject on which we are so reluctant to fix our attention as our mortality. We shift from one speculation, and from one pursuit to another; we give our thoughts to wander through immensity, but cautious Jy avoid this theme which touches us so near: but this is the point where wisdom begins. We can never live as we ought, till we have learned how to die. I mean not by this, that we should make death the constant subject of our meditation, and have funerals always passing before our eyes. This would withdraw us from life altogether; would indispose us even for its business and its enjoyments. But, although we cannot always employ ourselves in such meditatious, let us at times give this subject its full weight; that certainly merits some place in our thought, which is the great close of our being here. It is awful, indeed, I acknowledge, my friends, to make approaches to the mansions of the dead. It is melancholy to think upon the fall of this goodly structure, which was built by the hand of the Most High; but fall it assuredly must. The present moment hastens us on to our last hour. Let us, therefore, prepare for an event which we cannot avoid. We may learn some lessons from the tomb, which will avail us through all eternity.

III. I shall consider death as becoming present to us, and endeavour to give you that view of it, which you will one day have.

None, indeed, ever returned from the invisible world to describe the bed of death, and tell us the agonies of the last hour: but ap to that hour we can trace the man,