THEN all thofe Virgins arose, and trimmed their Lamps, Mat. xxv. 7.

Happy is that Man, who is ready to appear before God at all Times whatever! But more happy ftill is he, who can, with a true Confidence, defire the Coming of Chrift! There are fomé certain Preparations which no Chriftian omits, that is, to have his Heart entirely given up to God: How many are there that think not of this, 'till juft at the Approach of Death. But how late is. it to think of trimming their Lamps, that is their Hearts, at that Time. Grant, O Lord, that I may not be of the Number of those who cannot, without Regret, fubmit to the Neceffity of dying, and who neglect to prepare themselves for it, 'till the very laft Hour.

So move on the narrow Way,
Watchful, chearful, free from Toil,
Trim your Lamp from Day to Day,
Adding ftill Recruits of Oil:

Doubly does the Spirit reft
On that happy peaceful Breast,
Who himself to praying gives,
Who a Life of Watching lives.

AN

ND the Foolish said unto the Wife, Give us of your Oil, for our Lamps are gone out, Mat. xxv. 8.

My God, how dismal is it for a Man not to perceive the Emptinefs of his Heart, the Want of Faith and Love, 'till he comes to die. --- At that Time there is often nothing more of the Light of Faith, and of the Love of Goodness, left remaining, than only just enough to fhew a Man what he has loft, and to raise an unprofitable Regret. He then fees, that good Men, whom he used to count foolish and miferable Wretches, have only true Wisdom and fubftantial Wealth, and wishes to die like them; --- but every Thing fails when Time fails.

To damp our earthly Joys,
T'increase our gracious Fears,
For ever let the Archangel's Voice
Be founding in our Ears

The folemn midnight Cry,

Ye dead, the Judge is come!
Arife, and meet him in the Sky,
And hear your instant Doom.

WHILE

they (the foolish

groom were went

came, and they thins) went to buy, the Bride

the Marriage, and the Door was fhut, Matt. xxv. 10.

him to

Sinners, on a Death-Bed, too often meet with thofe deceitful Merchants, who promife them the Mercy of GOD, and eternal Salvation, for a Price which is of no Value in His Sight. How much better is it for them humbly to address themselves to CHRIST, who is the only Author of Salvation, who himself keeps the Key of his Treafury, which is Love, and diftributes it freely without Money, inftead of lofing their Time in dealing with Quacks, who promife every Thing, and can perform nothing? The Door is fout. Dreadful and fatal Words! No Hope remains, Nothing but Death futs this Door: But Death may furprife us in our Sins; and then Despair is our Portion.

How dreadful is the Sinner's Fate,
Who wakes to fleep no more,

Infinite Joy, or endless Woe,
Attends on ev'ry Breath;

And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the Brink of Death?

(k)

Who knocks and calls, alas! too late,
When Death hath fhut the Door.

Waken, O Lord, our drowsy Senfe,
To walk this dang'rous Road,
And, if our Souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God,

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WATCH therefore, for ye know neither the Day nor the

wherein the Son of Man cometh, Matt. xxv. 13.

Can that Man pretend to have any Faith who does not watch after an Admonition fo frequently repeated? If we would not be furprised, we must look on every Hour as the laft. --- If to watch, be to employ ourselves chiefly about the Bufinefs of our Salvation, alas! how few Chriftians are there who watch? How many who flumber? How many fleep? How many feized with a Lethargy? How many even quite dead?

Let all the Sons of Light
Expect their Lord to come,
Unlook'd for, in the Dead of Night,
A fleeping World to doom:
Let all who JESUS know,
To meet their Lord prepare,
And pass their every Hour below
In watching unto Prayer.

AND caft ye the unprofitable Servant into outer Darkne there fhall be weeping and gnashing of Teeth, Matt. xxv. 30.

To be excluded from Heaven, to be caft headlong into Hell, and abandoned to Rage and Despair to all Eternity, O God, can any one think on it without Horror! and yet this is the inevitable Punishment of every impenitent Sinner. --- The Love of Reft and Eafe makes Men flothful, and unprofitable; and it is merely by This, that they lofe the very Thing which they have loved in a wrong Manner.

What Multitudes the Curfe fhall feel, Shut out from Heaven, fhut up in Hell, Who keep their Talent unemploy'd, For doing neither Harm nor Good.

What Harm to raise a Fortune fair,
What Harm a Fortune fair t'increase?

And when the Fiend is enter'd in,
We cloak our covetous Defire,

The Luft of Gold, the Thorns of Care, We justify our gainful Sin,

Choak every Seed of Righteoufnefs. "Till Satan pays his Slaves their Hire.