the house of mirth. Even our amusements often partake of a serious turn. For the sake of amusement, we give our attention to histories of woe; we sit spectators to the scene of sorrow, and devote the hours to melancholy and to tears. And yet, by a strange perversion of mind, though we rush into foreign woe, and take delight in weeping for the fate of others, yet our own departure excites little attention or regard, notwithstanding the many warnings which tell us that here we have no continuing city; although few weeks elapse without being marked with the funeral of a neighbour or a friend, we remain in a criminal indifference; the tear is soon dried upon our cheeks, and we muse upon the fate of our friends with unconcern. If, by removing the thought of death, men could remove the day of death, their conduct would admit of an excuse. But whether you think of it or not, death approaches, and the want of preparation will only serve to sharpen the sting, by the surprise with which it may strike.

Since we know then assuredly, that God will bring us to death, and to the house appointed for all living, let us consider, in the first place, the certainty of its approaching soon; secondly, the time and manner of its arrival; and, thirdly, the change which it introduces.

In the first place, let us consider the certainty of death's approaching soon.

All the works of nature, in this inferior system, seem only made to be destroyed. Man is not exempted. There is a principle of mortality in our frame, and, as if we were only born to die, the first step we take in life, is a step to the grave. It was not always SO. Adam came from the hands of his Creator perfect and immortal. The Almighty created man after his own image. He planted in his frame the seeds of eternal life, to grow and flourish through a succession of ages. This noble shoot, which the hand of the Most High had planted, was blasted by sin. When man became a sinner, he became mortal. The doom H

was pronounced, that, after few and evil days, he should return to the dust from whence he was taken. Since that time, as soon as our eyes open on the light, we come under the law of immortality, and the sentence of death is passed. In the morning of our day, we set out on our journey for eternity; thither we are all fast tending; and day and night we travel on without intermission: There is no standing still on this road. To this great rendezvous of the sons of Adam we are continually drawing nearer and nearer. Our life is for ever on the wing, although we mark not its flight. Our motion down the stream of time is so smooth and silent, that though we are for ever moving, we perceive it not, till we arrive at the ocean of eternity. Even now, death is doing his work. At this very moment of time, multitudes are stretched on that bed from which they shall rise no more. The blood is ceasing to flow; the breath is going out; and the spirit taking its departure for the world unknown.

When we look back on our former years, how many do we find who began the journey of life along with us, and promised to themselves long life and happy days, cut off in the midst of their career, and fallen at our side! They have but gone before us; one day we must follow. O man! who now rejoicest in the pride of life, and looking abroad, sayest in thy heart, thou shalt never see sorrow; for thee the bed of death is spread; the worm calls for thee to be her companion; thou must enter the dominions of the dead, and be gathered to the dust of thy fathers. If then death be certainly approaching fast, let us learn the true value of life. If death be at hand, then certainly time is precious. Now the day shines, and the Master calls us; in a little time the night cometh, when no man can work. To-day, therefore, hear the voice which calls you to heaven. "Now is the accepted time; "now is the day of salvation."-" Whatsoever thy “hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest,

In the second place, we may consider the time and manner of the arrival of death.

Death is called in Scripture, the land without any order; and without an order the king of terrors makes his approaches in the world. The commission given from on high, was, "Go into the world: Strike; strike so, that the dead may alarm the living." Hence it is, that we seldom see men running the full career of life; growing old among their childrens' children, and then falling asleep in the arms of nature, as in the embraces of a kind mother; coming to the grave like a shock of corn fully ripe; like flowers that shut up at the close of the day. Death walks through the world without any order. He delights to surprise, to give a shock to mankind. Hence, he leaves the wretched to prolong the line of their sorrow, and cuts off the fortunate in the midst of their career; he suffers the aged to survive himself, to outlive life, to stalk about the ghost of what he was, and aims his arrow at the heart of the young, who puts the evil day far from him. He delights to see the feeble carrying the vigorous to the grave, and the father building the tomb of his children. Often when his approaches are least expected, he bursts at once upon the world, like an earthquake in the dead of the night, or thunder in the serenest sky. All ages and conditions he sweeps away without distinction; the young man just entering into life, high in hope, elated with joy, and promising to himself a length of years; the father of a family from the embraces of his wife and children ; the man of the world, when his designs are ripening to execution, and the long expected crisis of enjoyment seems to approach. These and all others are hurried promiscuously off the stage, and laid without order in the common grave. Every path in the world leads to the tomb, and every hour in life hath been to some the last hour.

Without order, too, is the manner of death's approach. The king of terrors wears a thousand forms; pains and diseases, a numerous and a direful train,

compose his host. his host. Marking out unhappy man fr their prey, they attack the seat of life, or the seat f understanding; hurry him off the stage in an instant, or make him pine by slow degrees: blasting the bloom of life, or, waiting till the decline, according to the pathetic picture of Solomon, "They make the "strong men bow themselves, and the keepers of the house tremble; make the grinders cease; bring the daughters of music low; darken the sun, and the moon, and the stars; scatter fears in the way, and "make desire itself to fail, until the silver cord be loosed, and the golden bowl be broken, when the "dust returns to the dust as it was, and the spirit as"cends to God who gave it."

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In the third place, we have to consider the change which death introduces.

Man was made after the image of God; and the human form divine, the seat of so many heavenly faculties, graces, and virtues, exhibits a temple not unworthy of its Maker. Men in their collected capacity, and united as nations, have displayed a wide field of exertion and of glory. The globe hath been covered with monuments of their power, and the voice of history transmits their renown from one generation to another. But when we pass from the living world to the dead, what a sad picture do we behold! The fall and desolation of human nature; the ruins of man; the dust and ashes of many generations scattered over the earth. The high and the low; the mighty and the mean; the king and the cottager, lie blended together, without any order. The worm is the companion, is the sister of him who thought himself a different species from the rest of mankind. A few feet of earth contain the ashes of him who conquered the globe; the shadows of the long night stretch over all alike; the monarch of disorder, the great leveller of mankind, lays all on the bed of clay in equal meanness. In the course of time, the land of desolation becomes still more desolate; the things that were, become as if they had never been; Baby

lon is a ruin; her heroes are dust; not a trace remains of the glory that shone over the earth, and not a stone to tell where the master of the world is laid. Such, in general, is the humiliating aspect of the tomb; but let us take a nearer view of the house appointed for all living. Man sets out in the morning of his day, high in hope, and elated with joy. The most important objects to him are the companions of his journey. They set out together in the career of life, and, after many mutual endearments, walk hand in hand through the paths of childhood and of youth. It is with a giddy recollection we look back on the past, when we consider the number and the value of those, whom unforeseen disaster and the hand of destiny hath swept from our side. Alas! when the awful mandate comes from on high concerning men, to change the countenance, and to send them away, what sad spectacles do they become! The friends whom we knew, and valued, and loved; our companions in the path of life; the partners of our tender hours, with whom we took sweet counsel, and walked in company to the house of God, have passed to the land of forgetfulness, and have no more connection with the living world. Low lies the head that was once crowned with honour. Silent is the tongue to whose accents we surrendered the soul, and to whose language of friendship and affection we wished to listen for ever. Beamless is the eye, and closed in night, which looked serenity, and sweetness, and love. The face that was to us as the face of an angel, is mangled and deformed; the heart that glowed with the purest fire, and beat with the best affections, is now become a clod of the valley.

But shall it always continue so? If a man die, shall he live again? There is hope of a tree if it be cut down; but man giveth up the ghost, and where is he? Has the breath of the Almighty, which animated his frame, vanished into the air? Is he who triumphed in the hope of immortality, inferior to the worm, his companion in the tomb? Will light never rise on the long