Food of worms without his order? No, brethren, it cannot be. "The author of life must be the appointer of death. "He hides This face and we are troubled," he takes away our breath, and we return to the dust. He clothes the King of Terrors with is armor, assigns to disease its work, numbers our days and

summons us away.

And why so terrible? Is it painful to part with earthly friends, earthly possessions, and earthly joys? It is. But yet he feeling is the same, whatever be our earthly circumstances and relations. Here poverty in its rags trembles-there ealth in its splendid attire crouches and weeps, and the proudest, loftiest spirit shivers through fear. Ah! death, as The coming of the Lord, is terrible; because man feels that there are enmities with which he has sported, and he is sensible of the painful reaction of his folly upon his own soul. There s a controversy managed by a being whose reasoning he canot refute, even with that God who has appointed him to die, who in death revives the power of conscience, gives vividness to the memorials of the past, and a clear foresight of the Future. Death is the wages of sin," and sentence of "death has passed upon all men, for that all have sinned."

Be

II. But secondly, the coming of the Lord is not only certain but it is close at hand. Our dying hour is very near. hold," says the master, "I come quickly." If death, viewed in its relations, should excite thought, the rapidity of its approach should add to its exciting power. That we shall die, we know, but when we know not; of this much, however we are certain, we must die ere long. We do not believe it. We calculate upon a long time in the future. Who, in this congregation, dreams to-day of dying soon, very soon. And yet upon this subject, the providence of God has taught us some very impressive lessons, and uttered them in very emphatic tones. Have none of us been called, during the last twelve months, to part with friends whose hopes of life at the beginning of the Fear were as bright as ours now are? Do my youthful hearers miss none from the circle of their companionship? They passed away, how quickly, and very soon death shall extinguish the Austre of that eye, and blanch that cheek of health, and consign that active frame to the stillness of the tomb. I hear a message coming from the graves of eight of those who composed his congregation twelve months ago. I know not for whom The message is designed, but I do know it is meant for some one within these walls to-day. Its meaning is very intelligible, its utterances are very distinct. My hearer, death comes pace for you. Ere this opening year shall have completed its revolution, death shall have separated you from earth, its possessions, its honors, its hopes, and its joys; your dust shall return to the earth as it was, and your spirit shall go to the God who gave it. What a thought to ponder. If I never felt how

inadequate to their theme are human conceptions, and how powerless is human language, I feel it now. We are standing and communing upon the very verge of the grave, and in a few moments are all to burst upon the realities of judgment and eternity. What a reflection; how calculated to impress every heart, and awaken all the anxieties of the human bosom. Listen! oh my soul! listen! my dying hearers. It is the voice of our maker and judge. Behold, I come quickly."

A

I must add one more thought to finish my subject. Death comes suddenly. How silently and surely he steals his march upon his unsuspecting victims. As in the dread hour of midnight, when all are wrapped in sleep, unconscious of his movements, insensible to his designs, dreaming of security and peace the thief approaches, "so shall the coming of the Son of Man be." Almost uniformly death takes men unawares. Even the wise virgins slept with the foolish until the midnight cry startled them. And it is always so with men whose portion is in this world. They are saying continually "Soul, take thine ease," ," "to-morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant." They are very prudent-they have made their calculations with great accuracy, and they feel confident in view of their arrangements, that when death does come they shall be prepared; and accordingly, their minds are occupied with their plans, and their hearts with their prospective pleasures, and the world keeps them in a flurry of perpetual excitement; and when they have just matured some new enterprise, and start out with souls buoyed up by the hope of certain success, the King of Terrors meets them. Death-inexorable death-waits for the accomplishment of no plans, tarries for the enjoyment of no pleasures. Deaf alike to the voice of entreaty and the cry of dispair, it hurries away its victim from his unfinished enterprises, and his untasted, though anticipated pleasures, to the dread rsities of the world which is to come. I would put the question to my hearers: Did you ever know a man who was not taken unawares, and that, notwithstanding all his warnings, though disease was strewing its victims around him, and shattering his own frame, though his tottering steps were every day foretelling his fall. And so he will come to you, "in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of Man cometh," is a truth which is yet to be illustrated in your experience.

There is not one of us, my brethren, who, whenever death approaches, will not be able to give many apparently very good reasons why he should not die. Yet we cannot, by argument disarm the King of Terrors of his power, nor by any reasoning, kindle his compassion. He has his work to do, and he does it, and does it often, in a way, and always at a time wholly unexpected. Yes, this is death; these are its relations, its circumstances and its issues.

Upon what fearful subjects, then, do we treat to-day, and

what solemnity they throw over the thoughts and associations of the present hour. Every thing upon which the mind fastens, seems to gather hues from a dying hour. This sanctuary is full of the intimations of death-this first Sabbath of a new year is heralding judgment.

And have I spoken the truth, my brethren? Have I said no more than the word of God commands, and the Providence of God instructs me to utter? And is it in reality so? Are these the circumstances and relations of our being? Must we die? Resign to others who labored not for it, the fruit of our toil? Be cut down, just when we had prepared for ease and comfort? Be torn away from the things of earth, its plans, its pleasures, and its hopes; and as though nature had nothing else to tell us but that we are dying creatures, must we be tortured every hour, be warned by every circumstance, as death obtrudes itself every where upon us, in our business, our retirement, our enjoyments, writing his summons upon our coueh, inscribing vanity upon all we own, and all we ask-defeating our purposes, sporting with our plans, and while hope is gilding the far-stretched landscape of earth, substituting in its place a judgment whose awards are to be eternal. Yes, my hearers, it is even so. We do not ask you to admit the fact, but to consider it. One would think, that once admitted, we never could forget it-for can we imagine anything so foolish as unconcern about it? Any thing more irrational than in these circumstances to cling to life with a fondness which nothing but an everlasting possession can justify, and to merge all the vast interests of an eternal world in the comparatively trifling business of an hour? Why should we, my brethren, think so little of an event so awfully important? Why bury ourselves in earthly things, and leave this entirely out of our calculation.

The

I know there are seasons when men do think of it. hour of death seems to have arrived, and then they feel its importance, and it presses with all its weight upon the unsanctified bosom, and they avow the concern they should have felt before. Ah! how often in these circumstances have been heard the voice of self-reproach--the prayer for indulgence-the promise of amendment-and then conscious guilt triumphs over every assurance of pardon, or false hope arrests inquiry and deceives the spirit, or stupor steals over the frame and deprives of reason. It is madness to postpone the thought of dying--it calls for our meditation now, the inquiries it starts demands our instant attention. Sport not with a theme so dreadful.

These reflections gather interest and impressive power from the rapid approach of that dread consummation which suggests them. It is, indeed, so, that before this year closes, some of us who are this day in the sanctuary, shall be numbered among

the victims of the fell-destroyer? What, then, can justify our hardihood? My youthful hearer, what means your presumption? Man of reason, why your folly? Why so credulous, so anxious about every thing else, so incredulous and unconcerned here?-here where facts are written as with a sunbeam before your eyes, as death walks all around you, clothed with omnipotence, regarding none of the distinctions which obtain among men, destroying alike the old and the young. the rich and the poor. Surely, there is enough in the message I bring, and ni the facts which enforce it, to alarm the most secure, and quicken the most stupid. Come, my unconverted hearer, ponder it well; gold and silver, houses and lands, earthly pleasures which command your attention, are all trifles compared with this subject of your studied and persevering neglect. The anxieties they kindle in your bosom, and the efforts they call forth, are all misplaced and misdirected, perverted and abused in your circumstances. Death, which is to tear you away from. these objects, demands all the anxieties they awaken, and all the efforts they secure; death, at your very doors, claims your first notice, and if we are men of reason, capable of thought, and of distinguishing between good and evil, there is one message which will sink deep into our hearts, and possess all our souls-" prepare to die."

Oh! I am not wrong when under the influence of such reflections. I preach to you of death-death rapidly approaching. It would be well if it were written upon the walls of the apartment where pleasure leads on her revelries--upon the coffers in which the miser hides his gold, and if every breath of popular applause wafted its warning to the ear, I would let childhood learn it, and not suffer old age to forget it. It is a melancholy task I have to perform-a painful theme upon which I am called to dwell. But I come a messenger of God to the domain of death. The spirit of the Lord has sent me to walk among the bones which are very dry. I may be repulsed but I will repeat the warning, multiply the arguments, renew the entreaty. Forget them who may; undervalue them who may; despise them who may; I will be faithful to you, though you may be unfaithful to yourselves.

We have said that death was God's appointment. It is the coming of the Lord; do we really believe it? How strange the truth. He kindled the sun to light us on our way. He unlocks his storehouses, and scatters around us his varied beauties. What goodness marks his dispensations, what glory shines in his procedures. But death-anomalous deathbringing suffering and woe, burying in ruin the beauties we admire, and blighting our dearest joys; this, too, is the appointment of God. We may say, that we believe it but our faith is a useless principle of a thoughtless mind, wholly inefficient for all purposes of moral activity, and foreign from every exer

cise of right feeling. On what course correspondent to our conviction of the fact have we entered? In what practical habit has this thought been embodied? When so busily engaged in the affairs of the present world, to the exclusion of all considerations of the affairs of the world which is to come, do we really believe that death is the appointment of God? No! it comes we know not whence--commissioned by, we think not whom. It is a law of necessity, which prevents inquiryā freak of fate of which there is no rational solution. Did we really believe that death was but the sentence of the eternal one, very different emotions should agitate, and very different plans should occupy our minds. Other views should attend us through the perplexities of the day; follow us to our nightly slumbers, be present with us in the place of prayer, give greater importance to the varieties, and another meaning to the joys and sorrows of life. Prove me this, and you have introduced me to a train of thought of high and awful character-thought which conveys a shock to the inmost soul, and fills it with emotions to which otherwise man must be a stranger. Did we but feel it as true, the awful secrecy in which he has wrapped up our destiny, would wrest from us all our fond, but false calculations, and make a matter of present interest the event whose considerations we postpone to future years. With what cautious step should we tread through a world which, on every side, presents to us the symbols of death. In what a prayerful frame should every change find us; how full our preparation to depart. How precious, then, should every Sabbath seem. We should not, then, so often speak to you in vain-argue without convincing-entreat without affecting you. Oh! my brethren you do not feel it because you do not believe it. You shut your ears when we declare it you steel your hearts when we would urge it.

Oh! what an assembly have I been addressing; what solemn, fearful truths have I uttered. Brethren, beloved brethren, if I reproach you, it is in kindness-it is in the discharge of a duty, springing out of a relation which God has established between you and me, and over which, as a God of love, he himself presides; and you know that not without cause, I speak as I have done.

Death is the wages of sin; and can the sinner go cheerfully on, adding to his sin, to aggravate his death? Will he spend the last hour in thoughtlessness, and even while quivering on the verge of the grave, turn away from, perhaps the last admonition? Will he amuse himself with sin, and make profaned Sabbaths, a neglected sanctuary, and abused mercies his pastime? Oh, this is fearful trifling with the anger of an Omnipotent God.

God will come suddenly he will break in upon all your schemes, and as you are running in the full chase after worldly.