you to give an account of all these things? If our blessed Lord, when he came near Jerusalem, lifted up his voice and wept, saying, Oh, that thou hadst known, even thou in this thy day, the things that belong unto thy peace! what cause have we to mourn over our fellow-creatures, whom we see to be in danger of misery, and, alas, they know it not! Can we see them sleeping on the very edge of ruin, and not be greatly troubled for them! Oh, poor sinners, you are now sleeping, but the judge is at the door; you are rolling the pleasant morsel under your tongue, but it will be great vexation to you in the end. How can you rest? how can you be quiet when you have none of your sins pardoned? No comfortable relation to God! no well-grounded hope of heaven! How can you, with any assurance, go about those things that concern your buying, your selling, and the present life, when your poor souls, that are of a thousand times more value, are neglected all the while! We have felt great terrors, inexpressible sorrows, from an angry God, and we would fain persuade you not to run upon the thick bosses of his buckler, not to dare his justice, not to despise his threats as once it was our folly: but we knew not what we did. We are come out of great tribu lation, and a fiery furnace, and we would fain persuade you to avoid the like danger; let what we have felt be a caution to you. It was the desire

of Dives, in his misery, that he might leave it to go thence to warn his brethren lest they came to the same place of torment; but it could not be granted. Some of us here come from the very gates of hell to warn you that you may not go thither-nay, to warn you that you may never go so near it as we did. We wish you so well that we would not have any of you to feel so much sorrow and grief as we have felt. We were once asleep, as you are; we did not imagine that terror and desolation were so near when they came upon us; and now, having been overtaken by a storm of wrath, we come to warn you that we see the clouds gather, that there is a sound of much rain and of great misery, though your eyes are so fixed on things below, that you see it not. You must speedily arise and seek for a shelter, as you value the salvation of your souls; you must not put off serious thoughts for your own safety, not for one day, not for one hour longer, lest it be too late. We were travelling with as little thought of danger as some of you, and we fell among thieves; they plundered of our peace and comfort, and we were even ready to die, when that God, whose just displeasure brought us low, was pleased to take pity on us, and to send his Son, as the kind Samaritan, to bind up our wounds and to cheer our hearts; and we cannot be so uncharitable as not to tell you, when we see you going the same way,

that there are robbers on the road, and that if you do not either return or change your course you will smart for your temerity as much as we have done. We have been saved indeed at length from our fears, as by fire; but we suffered, while they remained, very great loss. Some, perhaps, will be saying within themselves, 'I shall see no evil, though I walk in the imaginations of my own heart. These things you talk of are the mere product of a melancholy temper, that always presages the worst -that is always frighting itself and others with black and formidable ideas; and seeing I am no way inclinable to that distemper, I need not fear any such perplexing thoughts.' But know that no briskness of temper, no sanguine courageous hopes, no jollities nor diversions, can fence you from the wrath of God. If you go on in sin, you must feel the bitterness of it either in this or the next world; and that may, notwithstanding all the strength of your constitution, all the pleasures of your unfearing youth, come upon a sudden. Your souls are always naked and open before God, and he can make terrible impressions of wrath there when he will, though by your cheerfulness and mirth you seem to be at the greatest distance from it."

"Ye bold, blaspheming souls,

Whose conscience nothing scares;
Ye carnal, cold, professing fools,
Whose state's as bad as theirs.

แ Repent, or you're undone,

And pray to God with speed; Perhaps the truth may yet be known, And make you free indeed.

"The hour of death draws nigh,

'Tis time to drop the mask; Fall at the feet of Christ and cry;

He gives to all that ask."

XII.

COMMUNION PRESERVED.

"But they constrained him, saying, Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.”—LUKE xxiv. 29.

THESE disciples knew not their Lord, but they loved the unknown stranger who spake so sweetly of him. Blessed are the men who discourse of Jesus; they shall ever find a welcome in the hearts and homes of the elect. His name to our ears is ever melodious, and we love that conversation best which is fullest of it. We would willingly afford the chamber on the wall, the table, the stool, and the candlestick, to all those who will talk continually of Him. But, alas! there are too many who would blush to answer our Saviour's question, "What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another?"* Too great a number of professors forget the words of the prophet,

Luke xxiv. 17.