dawn. Every thing looked lovely around him he thought of nothing but fuccefs. He journeyed on very well until the hour of noon arrived, when he began to grow fomewhat tired. He looked round for fome cool, fequeftered spot, where he might while away a few hours. At a little diftance from the path, he discovered a pleasant, fhady grove. For a moment he hefitated; but his love of eafe prevailed. Now he forgets every thing except his present convenience; he enters the grove; he is delighted with its cool air and agreeable fragrance.

Suddenly he is bitten to the quick. A ferpent, concealed hitherto in the grafs, fixes in his flefh its poisonous fang; the wound is mortal; his life's blood is poisoned; fires intolerable course through his veins. He now repents of his folly; he wishes he had borne the heat of the day. The venom reaches his heart; he thinks of home and friends; his fpirits fink, his head fwims, his eyes-they clofe in death. The leaves of autumn are ftrown around him, and the place that knew him knows him now no more for ever.

This is an emblem of the danger of self-indulgence. With alacrity and delight the convert fets out on his journey to the kingdom of heaven. He anticipates the pleasures he will meet with on his arrival. He thinks not of the dangers of the road, nor of his own befetments. For awhile he makes rapid progrefs. By and by perfecution and trouble come upon him; he grows weary. He looks round for fome other way, that has in

it less of danger and difficulty. Soon he discovers one apparently more eafy and pleafing to flesh and blood. For awhile he ftands in doubt; his love of felf-indulgence overcomes him. "He will not endure hardness as a good foldier of Jefus Chrift." He enters the forbidden path. Now all seems pleasant and delightful. The pleasures of the road lull to fleep his fpiritual fenses. Sin, now, like a serpent, affails him; he has now no strength to refift; he falls a victim to his folly; guilt and remorfe now fting him to the quick. "Fool that I was," he exclaims. "Oh! that I had continued in the path of duty." It is too late. Wretched man, felf-indulgence has proved his ruin.

The difobedient prophet fell a victim to selfindulgence, when he turned afide to "eat bread and drink water," and a lion met him by the way and flew him. The five foolish virgins also, who "flumbered and flept" when they ought to have been watching, fell by the fame infidious foe. They awoke in outer darkness, and found the door of the kingdom of heaven fast closed against them for ever.

"If any man will be my difciple," faid the Saviour, "let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me." To them who by patient continuance in well-doing seek for glory, and honour, and immortality: eternal life. He that endureth to the end, the same shall be faved."

"Deny thyfelf and take thy cross,

Is the Redeemer's

great command!

Nature must count her gold but drofs,
If she would gain this heavenly land.

"The fearful foul that tires and faints,

And walks the ways of God no more, Is but efteem'd almoft a faint,

And makes his own deftruction fure."

DR. WATTS.

CARNAL SECURITY.

See here portrayed, a gently rifing ground,
With tulips gay, and blooming rofes crowned;
Where flowers of various hues, or gay or fair,
Mingle their sweetness with the balmy air;
While woodland minstrels ftoop upon the wing,
Attune their notes, and softeft carols fing;
A youth lies fleeping on the rofeate bed,
Heedlefs of dangers, thus to ruin led;
A horrid gulf of thickeft night is there,
Where hope ne'er comes, but darkness and defpair;
A turn-a move-and in the gulf he'll roll,
Where fiery billows prey upon the foul.

It is by afcending "a gently rifing ground," and not by overleaping abrupt precipices, that the youth attains his dangerous pofition-his bad

eminence. "Sin is first pleasing, then easy, then delightful, then confirmed, then the man is impenitent, then he is obftinate, then he refolves never to repent, and then he is damned."

Sin poffeffes a peculiar faculty to deceive; this is true of fin in all its modifications. It allures, that it may betray and deftroy. It meets the youth with fmiles only, that it may plunge a dagger more furely in the heart. It promises to the gambler, the robber, and murderer, wealth, pleasure, kingdoms. But having filled the cup of hope to the brim, with cruel mocking it is exchanged for the chalice of despair.

Sin adapts itself to the various depraved appetites or propenfities of man. To all its votaries it promises the pleasures of this life. But "the wages of fin is death." To all likewife it offers perfect fecurity; crying peace, fafety, when sudden deftruction is at hand.

As fin is thus deceptive in its promises and fatal in its results, fo alfo is it in its influence on the human mind. It blinds the eyes, it hardens the heart, it fears the confcience, it fascinates the imagination, it perverts the judgment, it gives a wrong bias to the will, it effaces from the memory recollections of the beautiful and the good. In a word, it throws the pall of the grave over the whole man, and hides from his view, his guilt, his danger, and his immortality.

The man is now wrapped in the mantle of "carnal fecurity;" he is infenfible to all around him. The path of finful pleasure is strewed with