the spirit of their minds, and bring forth the fruits of righteousness, are to be sought in the lowly vale, drinking the full cup of sorrow, and struggling with the griping hand of poverty. The world, like mystic Babylon, is clothed in fine linen, and purple, and scarlet, and decked with gold, and precious stones, and pearls; while the church, like Israel in Egypt, are made to serve with rigour, and their journey through the wilderness is one of self-denial and danger. Vice frequently goes unpunished, and virtue unrewarded; so that the principles on which the divine government is administered, are not always apparent in the present state. This is the scene of combat and of trial: the dawn of eternity is to usher in the day of final retribution. All the disorders which now exist in society will then be rectified; the mysteries of providence will be unfolded; and men shall be judged and rewarded according to their works. She who lived deliciously, shall have so much torment and sorrow: and because she saith in her heart, I sit a queen, and am no widow, therefore shall her plagues come in one day-she shall be utterly burned with fire: while through every street, and from every mansion of the Holy City, a great voice of much people shall be heard, "Alleluia; salvation, and glory, and honour, and power, unto the Lord our God."

When a celebrated warrior, flattered on occasion of a splendid triumph, was asked, "What is wanting here?" he replied, CONTINUANCE. The sentiment was just, and worthy the adoption of a great man, in danger of being unduly elated by present success, and dazzled by the glare of worldly glory. Were we more habitually to keep in view the changing and transitory nature of all terrestrial good, and the speedy approach of a state which will be final and everlasting, it would have a powerful influence on our character, moderating our present expectations and pursuits, and engaging all our intellectual powers in the attainment of salvation. The Scriptures invariably represent the world which we inhabit as an uncertain residence; and our condition in it as only probationary. All its doctrines, precepts, warnings, threatenings, and promises, proceed on the fact that our stay here is limited to a few short years, and that according to the improvement we make of our privileges will be our eternal destiny. This earth is a theatre on which Jehovah is unfolding the arrangements of his providence, and the stupendous methods of his grace. Every new dispensation is an increasing display of light and glory, shedding fresh lustre on the perfections of his nature, and placing his moral character in a most interesting point of view. It is a stage on which we too have to act an important part; developing the principles

which actuate and govern the mind, and expending our energies in the cause which lies nearest to the heart. Along with animal life, we received at our birth a rational subsistence, which is the germ or bud of our immortal being; and which, in this lower soil, is to vegetate, expand, blossom, and fructify, until it is fit to be transplanted to its appropriate state in the region of spirits. We are candidates for eternity; this is the school in which we are to derive the elements of our knowledge-in which our faculties will be matured, and our characters formed, for an enduring world; and it is the field in which we are to labour, to combat, and overcome, before we can obtain the conqueror's crown. Life itself is but a pilgrimage; it is a journey to heaven or hell; and every step which we take accelerates our progress either to the abodes of the blessed, or the regions of the damned. Our only mode of departure is by dying. Death is the entrance to immortality; the mysterious point which divides time and eternity; the gloomy, and, to our senses, the impenetrable passage between this world and the next. We must throw off the robes of mortality, before we can receive garments new and white : and the earthly house of this our tabernacle must be dissolved, before we can be clothed upon with our house which is from heaven.

Although death is absolutely certain, and even

necessary to the perfection and happiness of the Christian, and the final retribution of the sinner, yet the precise time of its approach is, in much wisdom, concealed from us. We know that we shall die, but when is a secret locked up in the cabinet of heaven. "For man also knoweth not his time: as the fishes that are taken in an evil net, and as the birds that are caught in the snare; so are the sons of men snared in an evil time, when it falleth suddenly upon them." How ought this consideration to awaken our attention to the things which belong to our peace, and engage our diligence in the habitual pursuit of them! Our life hangs on a slender thread; and on the same uncertain tenure is suspended our eternal destiny! It is the folly and crime of many that the whole of their care is directed to the concerns of this transitory world; while eternal realities have no share in their solicitude and regard. It might be imagined that they only expected to spend a dying life on earth, and that there was no futurity beyond the grave; or that they supposed it was their privilege to live here always. They never ask, What shall we do to be saved? How shall we flee from the wrath to come? What good thing shall we do to inherit eternal life? If they attend on the means of grace, it is merely to satisfy the conscience, by passing through the forms of religion: they discover nothing of the earnestness of men fully

awake to the danger that threatens them, and anxious for immediate safety. Oh, that we may feel the full import of the question, "What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?"—and that the whole business of life may be to prepare for the solemn approach of death!

"He who sits, from day to day,
Where the prison'd lark is hung,
Heedless of his loudest lay,

Hardly knows that he has sung.
Daily visitations come,

Publishing to all aloud,

Soon the grave must be your home,
And your only suit a shroud.

But the monitory strain,

Oft repeated in our ears,

Seems to sound too much in vain,
Wins no notice, wakes no fears.
Pleasure's call attention wins,

Hear it often as we may;
New as ever seem our sins,

Though committed every day.

Death and judgment, heaven and hell,

These alone, so often heard,

No more move us than the bell,

When some stranger is interr'd.