Suppose this principle were reduced to practice on earth, and that the saints expressed no regret over the misery of the unregenerate, and rejoiced in their suffering. Would it not prove them hardened, selfish wretches? That such a belief in such a heaven ever existed, is almost a proof of total depravity, for almost no other character could conceive the thought. Similar to the foregoing is the language of Dr. Emmons, another distinguished American theologian:

"One part of the business of the blessed is to celebrate the doctrine of reprobation. While the decree of reprobation is eternally executing on the vessels of wrath, the smoke of their torments will be eternally ascending in view of the vessels of mercy, who, instead of taking part with those miserable objects, will say, Amen, alleluia, praise the Lord. It concerns, therefore, all the expectants of heaven to anticipate the trying scene, and ask their hearts whether they are on the Lord's side, and can praise him for reprobating as well as electing love."

Rev. Josiah Spalding undertook to assault our holy religion, in a book entitled "Universalism Destroys Itself," in the course of which he says:

"They [the saints] look down and see their own dearest kindred in hell, under all the bitter agonies of death, and they stand unmoved at the sight; they maintain perfect calmness and undis

turbed joy. They hear the Judge pronounce the final sentence; they see all the wicked sink down to hell, and hell moved with devouring flames to meet them; a sight infinitely more dreadful than the sinking of worlds. At the same time they begin the triumph song; they see the power of God employed in the most terrible manner, to make their dearest and nearest connexions forever miserable."

"And for this display of his power they ascribe unto him blessings and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving. This consideration, were there no other, is proof that the redeemed in heaven stand complete in holiness. They feel exactly as God feels, according to their measure, as they are filled with all the fullness of God."

It is well for us occasionally to resort to these frank old exponents of error, in order to see clearly what is the high enormity of their doctrines. It is very rarely that we hear or read from modern divines, naked statements of their views. Liberal preaching is fashionable, and the prophets prophecy smoothly. They so lard their speech with smooth words, that the unreflecting are deceived into its belief, without perceiving what they embrace. If modern preachers were as outspoken and explicit as the authors I have quoted, popular churches would soon present a "beggarly account of empty boxes." Their sentiments would not be tolerated.

The foregoing language nearly equals that which we have seen ascribed to Dr. Edwards :

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:

Reprobate infants are vipers of vengeance, which Jehovah will hold over hell, in the tongs of his wrath, till they turn and spit venom in his face !"

Comment:-"Of such is the kingdom of

heaven."

So far as I have been able to read orthodox descriptions of the eternal world, I have found the character of the damned much more amiable than that of the saved. While the wicked utter awful imprecations on their own heads, and on the author of their misfortunes, it is only the good who chuckle and gloat, and scream with rapture over the agonies of others. They are pure and holy, and yet they do what a man would not be guilty of over a vile rat, or venemous snake.

Perhaps Robert Pollok, in his Course of Time, has expatiated on this theme as fully as any writer. Το open his book, seems like uncapping the pit. A vivid imagination excited by his words can almost behold the tossings and upheavings and contortions of lost souls writhing in the molten lava of God's infinite wrath. Hear him talk of the "Worm that never dies :"

"Of worm or serpent kind it something looked, But monstrous, with a thousand snaky heads,

Eyed each with double orbs of glaring wrath;
And with as many tails that twisted out

In horrid revolution, tipp'd with stings;
And all its mouths that wide and darkly gaped,
And breathed most poisonons breath, had each a sting,
Forked, and long and venomous and sharp;
And in its writhings infinite, it grasped
Malignantly what seemed a heart, swollen, black,
And quivering with torture, most intense;
And still the heart, with anguish throbbing high,
Made effort to escape, but could not, for
Howe'er it turned, and oft it vainly turned,
These complicated foldings held it fast.

And still the monstrous beast with sting of head
Or tail, transpierced it, bleeding evermore.
And while I stood, and gazed, and wondered long,
A voice, from whence I knew not, for no one
I saw, distinctly whispered in my ear

These words,—this is the worm that never dies."

And this is the way the merciful God, a Being of Love, is accused of treating sinners. Let us call the fierce wildcat merciful, as it plays with its weak prey, which cannot escape-let us ascribe that quality to the savage tiger, which delights to dally with its victim before lapping its blood, but let us not so misapply terms as to call that being good who would allow such a foul nondescript to tear the human heart forever, as is here represented. But our author gives us the idea of that world where he believed sinners are to be incarcerated forever :—

"Wide was the place,

And deep as wide, and ruinous as deep.
Beneath I saw a lake of burning fire,

With tempests tost perpetually, and still

The waves of fiery darkness 'gainst the rocks
Of dark damnation broke, and music made

Of melancholy sort; and over head,

And all around, wind warred with wind, storm howled
To storm, and lightning forked lightning crossed,
And thunder answered thunder, muttering sound
Of sullen wrath; and far as sight could pierce,
Or down descend in caves of hopeless depth,
Through all that dungeon of unfading fire,
I saw most miserable beings walk,
Burning continually, yet unconsumed;
Forever wasting, yet enduring still;
Dying perpetually, yet never dead.
Some wandered lonely in the desert flames,
And some in fell encounter fiercely met,

With curses loud and blasphemies, that made

The cheek of darkness pale, and as they fought,

And cursed, and gnashed their teeth, and wished to die,
Their hollow eyes did utter streams of wo,

And there were groans that ended not, and sighs
That always sighed, and tears that ever wept,
And ever fell, but not in Mercy's sight.
And Sorrow, and Repentance and Despair
Among them walked, and to their thirsty lips
Presented frequent cups of burning gall.
And as I listened I heard these beings curse
Almighty God, and curse the Lamb, and curse
The Earth, the Resurrection morn, and seek,
And ever vainly seek for utter death.
And to their everlasting anguish still,
The thunders from above responding spoke

These words, which through the caverns of perdition
Forlornly echoing, fell on every ear,-

"Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not."

This is an unvarnished description of that awful world which people all around us believe in,