h'l iiii I, :'L ■!! 'iliiii r I •IB' III _ ^ rHESENTED ^%;^n. BV 4900 .C6 1832 The comforter; or. Extracts selected for the #• >^ /'>'^^^<^y^A4^ HARPER'S FAMILY LIBRARY. " ^001(5 that you may carry to the fire, and hold readily in your hand, are the viost icsefuL after all. A viaa vtll often look at them, and be tempted to go on, when he would have been frightened at books of a larger size,andofa more erudite appearance." — Dr. Johnson. The proprietors of the Family Library feel themselves stimulated to increased exertions by the distmguished favour with which it has already been received. The volumes now before the public may be confidently appealed to as proofs of zeal on the part of the publishers to present to their readers a series of productions, which, as they are connected, not with ephemeral, but with permanent subjects, may, years hence as well as now, be con- eulted for lively amusement as well as solid instruction. To render this Library still more worthy of patronage, tne proprie- tors projwse incorporating in it such works of interest and value as may appear in the various Libraries and Miscellanies now preparing in Europe, particularly the *' National" and the " Edinburgh Cabinet" Libra- ries. All these productions, as they emanate from the press, will be submitted to a committee of literary gentlemen for inspection ; and none will be reprinted hut such as shall be found calculated to sustain the exalted character which this Library has already acquired. Several well-known authors have been engaged to prepare for it original worksofun American character, on History, IJiography, Travels, &c. «&:c. ' Every distinct subject will in general be comprehended in one volume, or at most in three volumes, which may form either a portion of the series or a complete work by itself; and each volume will be embellished •with appropriate engravings. The entire series will be the production of authors of eminence, who have acquired celebrity by their literary labours, and whose n^mes, as they appear in succession, will afford the surest guarantee to the public for the satisfactory manner in which the subjects will be treated, i Such is the plan by which it is intended to form an American Family Library, comprising all that is valuable in those branches of knowledge which most happily unite entertainment with instruction. The utmost care will be taken, not only to exclude whatever can have an injurious influence on the mind, but to embrace everything calculated to strengtlien the best and most salutary impressions. \ With these arrangements and facilities, the publishers flatter them selves that they shall be able to present to their fellow-citizens a work of unparalleled merit and cheapness, embracing subjects adapted to all cla.sses of readers, and forming a body of literature deserving the praise "Of having instructed many, and amused all ; and above every other sj^e- ries of eulogy, of being fit to be introd;iced, without reserve or exception, by the father of a family to the domestic circle. Meanwhile, the very low price at which it is charged renders more extensive patronage necessary for its sujjport and prosecution. The immediate encouragement, there fore, of those who approve its plan and execution is respectfully solicited The work may be obtained in complete sets, or in separate numbers, rom the principal booksellers throughout the United States. Notices of the Family Library. "The publishers have hitherto fully Reserved their daily increasin6 reputation by the good taste and JtxJan.ent winch ' f«'.f "/"";. !jf Belections of works for the Family Library ."-A/tany Dad if Advertiser. The Fa,nily T-ibrary-^ litle^_luch. from Utevalualde an^^^^^ inc matter il.c collection contains, as well as Irom the earcfu. style ol i ts exct ution it well deserves. No family, indeed, in which there are chil- drcn o bo broiKTht up, ou^ht to be without this Library, as it lurnishes ?| "rea'liest Sarces'Vor^that education which ought '«' ."-"X^^oJS succeed that ol' the boardm-school or the academy ad ^^^^^f^':'flJ''^'° conducive than either to the cultivation ol the mtelkct."-.l/ou//(<(/ lieiiav. "It i-? the duty of everv person having a family to put this excellent Library il the hands of h,reluldron."-.Y. Y. M.rcantde AavcrUscr. " It is one of the recominendations of the Family Library, that it cm- braces a ?ar,c circle of int3rcs..ng matter, of '"'n-rtant m ormat.on and HTrccable eiTteriainment, in a concise manner and a chea,) lorm. It is enUientiycarulard for' a popular series-published at a price so low S^t pc-rsousof the most moderate income may V^^^^;^^""^^ matter and a style that the most ordinary mmd may f^«"^l "^'-^^^ I ' f, '^^ "ame time that it is calculated to raise the moral and xutcilecluai cnaractcr of the people."'— C'o;j.s-<*//a''07i. " We have repeatedly borne testimony to the utility of this work. It is one of the best that has ever been issued from the Amet-ican press. a''d Biiould be in the library of every fanuly desirous ol ireasuriiiri up ubclul knowledge."— iiosfon Statesman. «'We venture the assertion that there is no publication in the country more suitably adapted to the taste and requirements of the great mass ot community, or better calculated to raise the intellectual character of tlie middling classes of society, than the Family Libu^ry. '-Boston Masomc Mirror. ^ , vi- " We have so olten recommended this enterprising and useful publica- tion (the Family Library), that we can here only : dd that each succes- Sc number appears to confirm its merited popularity."- A'. Y. Ammcan. "The little volumes of this series truly comport with their title, and are in themselves a Family Library ."-xY. Y. Commercial Adveitusrr. " We recommend the whole set of the Family Library as one of the chcap-st means of afibrding plcasinsr instruction, and i^npartmg a proper pride in books, with which we are acquainted."— t^. S Gazette. " It will prove instructing and amusing to all classes. We are pleased to learn that the works comprising this Library have become as they oujrht to be, quite popular among the heads ol famdies. '— -Y. Y. Gazette. ••The Family Librarv is. what its name implies, a collection of various oricinai works of the best kind, containing reading useful and interesting to the family circle. It is nently printed, and should he m every fami.y that can afford it— the price being moderate."— .Ycu>£/;5-/a/jJ Paltadiimi. " We are p'cased to see that tht publishers have obtained suflhient en- couragement to continue their valuable Family Library."— I^flitimorfi Re- publican. '•The Family L'brary presents, in a compendious and convenient form, -well-written histories of popular men, kingdoms, sciences. Ace. arraimed and edited by able writers, and drawn en..re!y from the most correct and accredited auih-ritios. It is. as it professes to be, a Family Library, from which at little expense, a household may prepare themselves for a con- sideration of those elementary subjects of education andsoncty. withoui a flue acquaintance witli which neither man nor woman has claim to be well bred, or to take their proper place among those with whom they Q^de."— Charleston Gazette, Recommendations of the Family Lihrary. The following opinions, Be!epted from highly respcctfible Journals, ■will ennble those who are unacquainted with the Family I-ibrary to form an estimate of its merits. Numerous oihor nolifps, equally favourable, and from sources equally respectable, might be presented if deemed necessary. ''The Family Libran'.— Avery excellent, and always entertaining Mia- ceUany. "—Edinbiirgk Review, No. 103. " TTte Family Library. — Wc think this series of bool entirely dcsiitutc of reason cannot injure n class of publications pure in sentiment and judicious ajid tasteful in composition." — Tne Cabinet r/ Religion, d f. " The names of the writers employed arc a sufficient surety that the merit of the Family Library wiil sufier no decUne."— JV. Y. Evening Post. "The Family Library- is a collection which should be sought afler by ever}' one desirous of procuring the most valiiablc ,now works in the cheapest and most convenient form." — N. Y- Daily Sentinel. " Those wiio condense and arrange such works for publication, and they also who pronnily Classical Library is now m the course of publication, which will, no lioubt, arrest the atten- tion of all the admirers of elegant and polite literature— of that literature which forms the solid and indispensable basis of a sound and gentlemanly education."— fio/A Herald. " We are inclined to augur the most beneficial results to the rising generation from the plan and nature of this publication ; and we doubt not that under the able superintendence of Mr. Valpy, the value of the present work will not exceed its success as a mere literary speculation. It ought to find a place in every school and private family in the kingdom."— Brw- tol Journal. " The design of this publication is highly laudable : if it be patronised according to its deserts, we have no hesitation in saying that ila success will be very considerable."— Erfuiftur^-/; Advertiser. " If we had been called on to state what in our opinion was wanted to complete the several periodicals now in course of publication, we should have recommended a translation of the most approved ancient writers, in a corresjionding style. Thid undertaking, therefore, of Mr. Valjiy's, most completely meets the view we had entertained on the subject. We strongly recommend the production to the notice of schools, as its perusal must tend to implant on the minds of the pupils a love for ancient lore. In Ladies' Seminaries the series will, indeed, be invaluable — the stores of antiquity being thus thrown open to them." — Plymoutk and Devonport Herald. " Economy is the order of the day in books. The Family Classical Li' brary will greatly assist the classical labours of tutors as well as pupils. We suspect that a period is arriving when the Greek and Latin authors •will be more generally read through the medium of translations." — Chel- tenham Journal. " We avail ourselves of the earliest opportunity of introducing to the notice of our readers a work which appears to promise the utmost advan- tage to the rising generation in particular. There is no class of people to whom it is not calculated to be useful — to the scholar, it will be an agree- able guide and companion ; while those to whom a classical education has been denied will find in it a pleasant and a valuable avenue towards those ancient models of literary greatness, which, even in this age of boasted refinement, we are proud to imitate." — Aberdeen Chronicle. "The Family Classical Library will contain the most correct and ele- gant translations of the immortal works of all the great authors of Greece and Rome ; an acquaintance with whose writings is indispensable lo every man who is desirous of acquiring even modern classical attainments "• Liverpool Albion, "This volume promises to be an invaluable acquisition to those but partially acquainted with the Greek and Latin languages: such of the fair se.x more especially as direct their laudable curiosity in the channel of classic literature must find in translation the very key to the knowleiJge they seek. The mere trifle for which the lover of literature may novf furnish his library with an elegant and uniform edition o( the best trans- lations from the classics, will, it cannot be doubted, c.isure thj Family Classical Library a welcome recei)tion." — IV'ooiwicr'i- Lxttcr Gazette. "This work will supply a desideratum in literature; and we hope it will meet with encouragement. The translations of many of the ancient authors, who may be looked on as the great storehouse of modern litera- ture, are out of the reach of the English reader; and this publication wiU render ihcm accessible lo oXV— Yorkshire Gazette. RECOMMENDATIONS. Rev. and dear Sir, — The work which you are preparing for publication is much needed for general distribution among Christians of all denomi- nations. I am much pleased with the Belections which you have made. They are the productions of men who were ac- quainted with sorrows Banctified by Divine grace, who have expressed these sorrows under the exercise of ardent piety ; and, in consequence, are peculiarly calculated to administer comfort to the disconsolate and afllicted. Very respectfully "and truly yours, &c. JouN A. Yates. Union College, Schenectady, Apnl Ath, 1833. I heartily concur in the above recommendation of Professor \ ates. The selection of pieces is judicious, and may prove highly useful to the Christian in aflliction. W. C. Brownlee. NeW'Yorh, April 10, 1832. My views perfectly coincide with tlie sentiments o( Professor Yates and Rev. Dr. Brownlec, as above expressed ; and I have no doubt the work will receive an extensive patronage and prove highly useful. Jou.v A. Clark, Assistant Minister of Christ Church, A. Y. I concur in the utility of such a compilation, and have no doubt of its meeting with an extensive circulation. James Milnor, Rector of St. George's Chapel, ^. Y. April 11, 1832. THE COMFORTER; ORf E X T R A 1^ S SELECTED FOR THE CONSOLATION OF MOURNERS, UNDER TUE BEREAVEMENT OP FRIENDS AND RELATIONS. Comfort ye, comfort yc my people." Isaiah xl. 1. BY A VILLAGE PASTOR. NEW- YORK: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. & J. HARPER, No. 8 2 CLIFF-STREET. AND SOLD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT TH» UNITED STATES. MDCCCXXXII. [Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1832, by J. &; J. Harper, in the Office of the Clerk of the Southern District of New- York.] THIS COMPILATION IS AKFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO THK FOLLOWERS OF THE LORD JESUS CHRIST, FERVENT PRAYER THAT THE GREAT HEAD OF THE CHURCH WOULD ACCOMPANY IT WITH HIS BLESSING, FOR THE COMFORT AND EDIFICATION OF HIS AFFLICTED PEOPLE, BY A VILLAGE PASTOR. CONTENTS. Trust in GoJ, the Mourner's Consolation. By Rev. George B. Miller, A.M. 13 On Death. By Hugh Blair, D.D. 20 Hope ill God the only Refuge in Distress. By Jacob Duche, A.M. 28 The Certainty and Happiness of the Resurrection. By Rev. George B. Miller, A.M. 35 Diftercncc between a mortal and a glorified Body. By Rev. John Wesley, A.M. 47 The Christian's Victory over Death and the Grave. By Rev. Mr. Miller 54 On a future State. By Edward Harwood, D.D. - - 61 Happiness of good Men in a future State. By Samuel Stanhope Smith, D.D. 68 Consolations for the Afflicted under the Loss of Friends. By William Dodd, D.D. 77 Christ's Address to the Widow of Nain. By Rev. James Whyte 81 On the Death of the Rev. Dr. Ryland. By Rev. Robert Hall, A.M. 91 Address to Mourners. By Rev. John Flavel - - - 96 The Conflict and Triumph of a Christian. By Rev. S. W. Cunningham, A.M. 137 LETTERS. Letters by Rev. John Newton - - - • -147 Letter from Rev. Mr. Hervey to a Friend - - - 158 Letter by Rev. H. Davidson on the Death of the Rev. G. Wilson 163 Rev. Mr. Muir to a Lady on the Death of her Father - 165 From a Gentleman to a Friend on the Death of his Wife 107 To a Lady on the Death of her Husband, by the Rev. John Summerfield, A.M. 169 Dr. Lettsom's Letter on the Death of the Countess of Huntington -171 A5} CONTENTS. Page Rev. Dr. Doddridge's Letter to a Lady on the Death of her Brother 172 Rev. Mr. Whitlield to a Friend on the Death of his Brother 173 Rev. Dr. Watts to Madam Sewali on the Death of her Chil- dren 179 Pathetic Letter on the Death of an only Child - - - 182 Letter from Rev. Dr. Payson a short time before his tri- umphant Death 185 Happy Deaths 187 POEMS. Friends separated by Death 191 Death of a Christian 192 On the Death of a Friend 192 of Mrs. Newton 193 of an infant Daughter .... 194 of a Child at Daybreak - - - - 195 A Mother's Grief 195 The Orphan 197 Resignation 108 A Brother in Adversity 199 I,ongin(T for Heaven -,-.... 200 The heavenly Rest 201 The Saint in Heaven 203 "Blessed are the Dead that die in the Lord" - - -202 THE COMFORTER. TRUST IN GOD, THE MOURNER'S CONSOLATION.; BY THE REV. GEORGE B. MILLER, A.M. God, my supporter and my hope, My help for ever near ; Thine arm of mercy holds me up, When sinking in despair. Psalm Ixxiii. 25. — Whom have Tin heaven hut thee 7 And there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee. That admirable collection of divine songs which we call the Psalms contains instruction and advice suited to every rank and condition of life, and is wonderfully calculated to keep alive and assist the devotions of every Christian, in whatever state he finds himself; but if there is any situation for which these sacred hymns seem more peculiarly adapted than to any other, it is in a time of affliction. The grand and enlivening themes, indeed, which are presented in every Psalm, are of a nature to kindle the affections, and to raise the heart above the shifting scenes of life. But there are many that have been composed with immediate reference to a state of depression and sorrow ; from which the wounded heart may derive the cordial of consolation ; where it is taught, and as it were dragged along with a holy violence, to pour its m'OCs and cares into the ear of a gracious God. So true are these observations, that we venture to assert, that there is scarce a page in that invaluable collection on which the troubled spirit may^ not find something to assuage its anguish. U THE mourner's CONSOLATION. Sweet is the returning light of day to the traveller who has lost himself in a thick forest during the night ! Still more sweet to the soul is the refreshing ray of divine truth that dispels the mists of doubt and igno- rance ! How cheering to find ourselves in a place of safety, when we had long apprehended that we were on the point of perishing ! There is probably no Christian who has not, in a greater or less degree, had fears and doubts similar to those of the psalmist, — especially under the pressure of heavy affliction, though the soul may acknowledge that God is just, yet how hard is it to believe that God is good. It was an evidence of strong faith when David could declare, as in the 1 19th Psalm, " I know, O Lord, that thy judgments are right, and that thou in faithful- ness hast aflicted me.'''' It seems to have been the fruit of deep experience, after having discovered, in the im- provement of his heart, the happy eflects of sanctified afflictions. Thrice blessed soul that can make the declaration in sincerity, while yet smarting under the Avound of a recent loss. Too generally, when a beloved object is withdrawn from our fond embrace, in the first anguish of grief w-e feel as though all were lost. It is as if our whole soul and life had been bound up in this one friend. AVe forget that we have others left that take an interest in our welfare. Above all, we are too ready to forget that God remains the same. Nature, while we are under the influence of excessive anguish, seems to present us wdih a blank, — a dark and dreary blank, — in which we can no longer discover the signs of Divine goodness. The soul resembles the mariner tossed in a frail bark on the wild waves of the trackless ocean in a dark and tempestuous niglit. Suddenly, the thunder rolls, the lightning descends — our faculties are stunned with the furious violence of the storm. When we begin to recover from our stupor, seeing notliing but destruction before us, we are disposed to murmur against the Divine government, Happy for us that we have a couipassioa- THE mourner's CONSOLATION. 15 ate High-priest, — one who has himself weathered tlie fiercest' storms of life's tempestuous oi-eau,— who is not untouched with the feeUng of our infirmities ; one who intercedes for us while, in tlie violence of our grief, we fret against the Lord, and foolishly distrust his goodness ; who prays in behalf of his tempted creatures, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Well for'^us that we have a gracious God, who pitieth those that fear him, as a father pitieth his children,— who bears with our waywardness, our unbelief, and rebellion ! Hence, while Satan desires to sift us as wheat, the inter- cession of our Divine Redeemer prevails, that our faith shall not utterly fail, though put to a severe trial. Though the heart, by the violence of the tempest, may forli time be thrown out of hs course, yet when the storm is hushed, and a favourable gale springs up, it acrain summons courage, and resumes its former direc- tion. Though terrified by the noise and fury of the elements, the soul, as a frightened deer, may run in every direction, yet when it has had time to recover itself, it will fly— I had almost said instinctively— to its covert in the rock. AVhen every other spring of joy is dried up, then it learns to value the never-fiidmg source of comfort that religion yields. Then it can exclaim, with a vivacity and a feeling before unknown, as it rests upon the Almighty alone for support, " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee." While the melancholy spectacle serves strongly to remind us that nothing on earth can yield substantial bliss, the words of the psalmist contain a convincmg proof that religion offers us support under every calamity. On both these truths we propose to offer some remarks, and then to add a few reflections on the use and intention of afllictions. Nothing, we said, that earth aflbrds can yield sub- stantial bliss. On this topic it is easy to moralize. It forms the burden of the youthful writer's first essay, of the poet's song, and the philosopher's dream. But on 16 THE MuURM:u'b CONSOLATION. this subject, so readily granted and so seldom realized, Death reads us a lesson that comes riglit home to our bosoms. What now is become of the plans ol" future enjoyment, or honour, or wealth, which man had fondly formed I Where now is the friend on whom the afl'ec- tionate heart had rested ? Where is he who had long been the hope and pride of his family, — from whom his fond parents had expected to receive the last offices of filial aiiection? The sudden removal in the prime of life of one of our friends, the lamentations of his relatives, forcibly bring to our thoughts that tlie joys of earth, even the most innocent and most endearing, are imperfect, unsatisfy- ing, and transitory. They are imperfect; — they are never entirely unmingled with painful circumstances. Thus with friendship : either we are disappointed in the character of him in whom we placed full confidence, or if we find him to be indeed all ihat our heart could wish, we are called to see him suffer pain without the power to afford him any rehef ; or we are separated from him with short and distant intervals of reunion. But the pleasures of earth are not only imperfect ; they are fur- ther unsatisfying. To confine ourselves to those of friendship, which are certainly among the purest : yet a friend, though he should be all that we can reasonably ex- pect, is but a frail being like ourselves, and unable, there- fore, to support the soul under all the calamities of life, or to fill up by his kind attentions the aching void of the human breast. By sharing, he may double our joys, and by dividing, may diminish our sorrows ; he may in cer- tain cases be the very idol of our aflections, and yet we feel that something more is wanting to render us happy. Let our intimacy be ever so great, and our confidence unbounded, still, in the deep recesses of the soul, will be found a rankling care that we dare not reveal. But what stamps with vanity all the joys of time is, that they are transitory. Let our happiness, when founded on any cartlily object, be as complete as \\c could desire, .' — let that object be supposed capable of filling the whole THE MOURNER S CONSOLAT ON, 17 capacity of the soul — still the clay must speedily arrive in the rapid whirl of things, when the possession the most valued of all must be surrendered. And by that wonderful counterpoise of pleasure and pain which the Creator has ordained in all human events, by which all ranks are brought much nearer to a level than we some- times imagine, the greater that our enjoyment has been, the more severe is our loss. The more our affections had entwined themselves around a beloved friend, the more violent the separation, leaving the heart bleeding at every pore. But to make ample amends to man for the vanity of all sublunary joys, religion offers to his embrace a hap- piness complete, satisfactory, and enduring. Thus did ilie psalmist find it. In our text we are not presented Avith a moral axiom, cold and repulsive ; not with a calm reflection upon the propriety of things, such as a man would make when he feels at his ease ; nothing of all tliis : but it is the passionate cry of a soul deeply wounded — which, having looked around in vain to every other source of comfort, flies, as its last refuge, into the arms of Divine love, and there finds all its sorrows, all its losses, all its cares, swallowed up in rapturous hope of endless bliss. "Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee." In the admiring view of infinite perfection and boundless mercy, all its wishes and desires are annihilated, save this one : — 0, my God ! permit me to call thee Father ; hi me constantly enjoy tliy favour, and I care not what thou deprivest me of. Thou art the fountain of bliss; and while I may go with confidence to thee, to draw water from the wells of consolation, what care I though the rills be dried ? Thy love is an unmeasurable ocean, from which I may to eternity quench the thirst after happiness, without any apprehension of exhausting the supply ! tSuch an exclamation, uttered in the midst of painful circumstances, — such complete reliance on the goodness and sufiiciency of God, —more deeply affects us than a 18 THE mourner's consolation. long train of arj^mments addressed to the understanding. It speaks at once to tlic licart. It causes a ray of hope to spring up in tlie bosom of wo, that it may yet find the same consolation. And why not? We arc too apt to suppose that the experience of the saints, recorded in the Scriptures, and more particularly in the Psalms, has in it something peculiar, wiih which we have no concern. Far from it. They were men of like passions, subject to the same infirmities and temptations as we are. In one respect we are more higiily favoured, as we enjoy a clearer revelation of the Divine will, a greater manifestation of the mercy of God, than any they were acquainted with. What hinders us, then, fiom enjoying the same conso- lations — from attaining the same eminent piety ? It is the weakness of our faith, my friends. It is our distrust of the Divine goodness ; our attachment to the world. This leads to observe upon the use and intention of afflictions. These are some of the most eflicient means employed by Divine mercy for reclaiming erring mortals. They are intended to wean our hearts from the world, by convincing us feelingly of its vanity, that we may fly for refuge to the Deity. O, thou distressed soul ! vio- lently torn from the object of thy affections, to whom the world appears a waste — now, now is the time to cast thyself into the open arms of thy Redeemer and thy God ! That opportunity which thou wouldst never have found, he has of his own accord presented to thee. Think not thou hast no right to come. He invites all that are weary and heavy laden, with the promise of giving them rest. Or if you have already tasted that the Lord is gracious, this aflliction is to try your faith ; if sound, it will abide the test, and come forth purified as gold that is tried by the fire. Afllictions, when meekly submitted to, arc a blessed means of drawing the soul closer to God. They enable us to look forward to the hour of death with greater composure, and afford a happy opportimity to prepare for that solemn event. THE MOURNERS CONSOLATION. 19 Sanctiricd afflictions arc an eminent means to tit the soul for heaven. Nothing in nature is so contrary as the pleasures of earth and the joys ol" heaven. The more we covet the former, the more we forfeit the latter ; and if tiiere is any thing to be depended on in experience, it is this, that the man who should never see any trouble in life, will never see happiness after death. Thus, far from being a curse, they are a real blessing. They are as medicine to the soul, — bitter to the taste, but neces- sary for its well-being. They restore, under the care of tlie good physician, its faculties to greater soundness, and accordingly capacitate it for greater happiness. That our loss seems greater than w^e can bear, is owing to our being more attached to an object than reli- gion, which seeks only our happiness, allows. AVhile all was well, we were not conscious of the strength of our attachment and the weakness of our faith. Now that we know it b}'' painful experience, let us humbly implore forgiveness at the hands of God. Let us return to him that has smitten, and he will heal us. Let us not be satisfied till we can exclaim, with all the powers of our soul, with the afflicted psalmist, " AVhoni have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none I desire upon earth besides thee." 20 ON ^EATH. ON DEATH. nv HUGH nLAlR, D. D., F. R. s/ Death, like an ever rolling stream, Bears all its sons away ; They lly, forgotten as a dream — Dies at the opening day. EccLESiASTES xii. 5. — Man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets. When we observe the funerals that pass along the streets, or when we walk among the monuments of death, the first thing that naturally strikes us is the im- distinguishing blow with which that common enemy- levels all. AVe behold a great promiscuous multitude all carried to the same abode ; all lodged in the same dark and silent mansions. There mingle persons of every age and character, of every rank and condition in life ; the young and the old, the poor and the rich, the gay and the grave, the renowned and the ignoble. A few weeks ago, most of those whom we have seen carried to the grave, walked about as we do now on the earth ; enjoyed their friends, beheld the light of the sun, and were forming designs for future days. Perhaps it is not long since they were engaged in scenes of high festivity. For them, perhaps, the cheerful company assembled ; and in the midst of the circle they shone with gay and pleasing vivacity. But now — to them, all is fmally closed. To them no more shall the seasons return, or the sun arise. No more shall they hear the voice of mirth, or behold the face of man. They are swept from the universe as though they had never been. They are carried away as with a flood. The tcind has passed over them and they arc gone. When we contemplate this desolation of the human race ; this final termination of so many hopes ; this silence that now reigns among those who, a little while ago, >vere so busy, or so gay ; who can avoid being touched ON DEATH. 21 witli sensations iit once awful and tender I \\ liat Iieart but then warms with tlie glow ol" humanity I In Avhose eye does not the tear gather, on revolving tlie fate of passing and short-lived man ? Such sensations are so congenial to human nature that they arc attended with a certain kind of sorrowful pleasure. Even vo- hiptuaries themselves sometimes indulge a taste for funereal melancholy. After the festive assembly is dis- missed, they choose to walk retired in the shady grove, and to contemplate the venerable sepulchres of their an- cestors. This melancholy pleasure arises from two different sentiments meeting at the same time in the breast ; a sympathetic sense of the shortness and vanity of life, and a persuasion that something exists after death ; sentiments which unite at the view of tfie house appointed for all living. A tomb, it has been justly, said, is a monument situated on the confines of both worlds. It at once presents to us the termination of the inquietudes of life, and sets before lis the image of eternal rest. There, in the elegant expressions of Job, the wicked cease from troubling ; and there the weary be at rest. There the j)Tisoners rest together ; they hear not the voice of the oppressor. The small and the great are there ; and the servant is free from his master. It is very remarkable, that in all languages, and among all nations, death has been described in a style of this kind ; expressed by figures of speech, which convey everywhere the same idea of rest, or sleep, or retreat from the evils of life. Such a style perfectly agrees with the general belief of the soul's immortality, but assuredly conveys no high idea of the boasted pleasures of the world. It shows how much all mankind have felt this life to be a scene of trouble and care ; and have agreed m opinion, that perfect rest is to be expected only in the grave. There, says Job, arc the small and the great. There the poor man lays down at last the burden of his weari- some life. No more shall he groan under the load of pov- erty and toil. No more shall he hear the msolcnt calls 22 OV DEATH. of the master from whom he received liis scanty wages. No more shall he be raised from the needful slumber on his bed of straw, nor be hurried away from his homely meal to undergo the repeated labours of the day. While his humble grave is preparing, and a few poor and decayed neighbours are carrying him thither, it is good for us to think that this man too was our brother ; iliat for him the aged and destitute wife, and the needy children now weep ; that, neglected as he was by tlie world, he possessed, perhaps, both a sound understand- ing and a worthy heart, and is now carried by angels to rest in Abraham's bosom. At no great distance from him the grave is opened to receive the rich and proud man. For, as it is said with emphasis in the parable, the rich man also died, and ivas huricd* He also died. His riches prevented not his sharing the same fate with the poor man ; perhaps, through luxury they accelerated his doom. Then, indeed, the mourners go about the streets ; and while, in all the pomp and magnificence of wo, his funeral is prepared, his heirs, in the mean time, impatient to examine his will, are looking on one another with jealous eyes, and already beginning to quarrel about the division of his substance. One day we see carried along the coffin of the smiling infant ; the flower just nipped as it began to blossom in the parent's view : and the next day we behold the young man, or young woman, of blooming form and promising hopes, laid in an untimely grave. AVhile the funeral is attended by a numerous, unconcerned company, who are discoursing to one another about the news of the day, or the ordinary affairs of life, let our thoughts rather follow to the house of mourning, and represent to themselves what is going on there. There we would see a disconsolate family, sitting in silent grief, think- ing of the sad breach that is made in their little society ; and, with tears in their eyes, looking to the chumber that is now left vacant, and to every memorial that pre- * I-uke xvi. 2i ON DEATH. 23 sents itself of their departed friend. By such atten- tion to the woes of others, the selfish hardness of our hearts will be gradually softened, and melted down ijuo humanity. Another day we follow to the grave one who, in old age, and after a long career of life, has in full maturity sunk at last into rest. As we are going along to the mansion of the dead, it is natural for us to think and to discourse of all the changes which such a person has seen during the course of his life. He has passed, it is likely, through varieties of fortune. He has experienced prosperity and adversity. He has seen families and kindreds rise and fall. He has seen peace and Avar succeeding in their turns ; the face of his country under- going many alterations ; and the very city in which he dwelt rising, in a manner, new around him. After all he has beheld, his eyes are now closed for ever. He was becoming a stranger in the midst of a new succes- sion of men. A race who knew him not had arisen to fill the earth. Thus passes the world away. Through- out all ranks and conditions, one generation •passelliy and another generation cometh ; and this great inn is by turns evacuated and replenished by troops of succeeding pilgrims. O vain and inconstant world ! O fleeting and transient life ! When will the sons of men learn to think of thee as they ought ? When will they learn humanity from the afflictions of their brethren ; or mo- deration and wisdom from the sense of their own fugi- tive state? But, now, to come nearer to ourselves, let us, H. Consider the death of our friends. Want of re- flection, or the long habits either of a very busy, or a very dissipated life, may have rendered men insensible to all such objects as I have now described. The stranger and the unknown fall utterly unnoticed at their side. Life proceeds with them in its usual train, with- out being aflected by events in which they take no per- sonal concern. But the dissolutionof those ties which had long bound men logeihev iu intimate and familiar S4 ON DEATH. union, gives a painful shock to every heart. When a family who, for years, have been living in comfort and peace, arc suddenly shattered by some of their most beloved or respected members being torn from them ; Avhcn the husband or the spouse are separated for ever from the companion who, amid every vicissitude of for- tune, solaced their life ; who had shared all their joys, and participated in all their sorrows ; when the weeping parent is folding in his arms the dying child whom he tenderly loved ; when he is giving his last blessing, re- ceiving the last fond adieu, looking for the last time on that countenance, now wasting and faded, which he had once beheld with much delight ; tlien is the time when the heart is made to drink all the bitterness of human "WO. But I seek not to wound your feeling by dwelling t)n these sad descriptions. Let us rather turn our thoughts to the manner in which such events ought to be received and improved, since happen they must in the life of man. Then, indeed, is the time to weep. Let not a false idea of fortitude, or mistaken conceptions of religious duty, be employed to restrain the bursting emotion. Let the heart seek its relief in the free efiusion of just and natural sorrow. It is becoming in every one to show on such occasions that he feels as a man ought to feel. At the same time let moderation temper the grief of a good man and a Christian. He must not sorrow like those iclio have no hope. As high elation of spirits befits not the joys, so continued and overwhelming dejection suits not the griefs of tiiis transitory world. Grief, when it goes beyond certain bounds, becomes unmanly ; when it lasts beyond a certain time becomes unseasonable. Let him not reject die alleviation which time brings to all the wounds of the heart, but sufl'er excessive grief to subside by degrees into a tender and afi'ectionate remembrance. Let him consider that it is in the power of Providence to raise him up other com- forts in the place of those he has lost. Or, if his mind at present reject the thoughts of such consolation, let it turn for relief to the prospect of a future meeting in a ON DEATir. 25 happier world. This is indeed the chief soother of affliction ; the most powerful balm of the bleeding heart. It assii^ts us to view death as no more than a temporary separation of friends. They whom we have loved still live, though not present to us. They are only removed into a different mansion in the house of the common Father. The toils of their pilgrimage are finished ; and they are gone to the land of rest and peace. They are gone from this dark and troubled world, to join the great assembly of the just ; and to dwell in the midst of everlasting light. In due time we hope to be associated with them in these blissful habi- tations. Until this season of reunion arrive, no princi- ple of religion discourages our holding correspondence of affection with them by means of faith and hope. Meanwhile, let us respect the virtues and cherish the memory of the deceased. Let their little failings be now forgotten. Let us dwell on what was amiable in their character, imitate their worth, and trace their steps. By this means the remembrance of those whom we loved shall become useful and improving to us, as well as sacred and dear ; if we accustom ourselves to consider them as still speaking, and exhorting us to all that is good ; if, in situations where our virtue is tried, we call up their respected idea to view, and, as placed in their presence, think of the part which we could act before them without a blush. Moreover, let the remembrance of the friends whom we have lost strengthen our affection to those that remain. The narrower the circle becomes of those we love, let us draw^ the closer together. Let the heart that has been softened by sorrow mellow into gentleness and kindness, make liberal allowance for the weaknesses of others, and divest itself of the little prejudices that may have formerly prepossessed it against them. The greater havoc that death has made among our friends on earth, let us cultivate connexion more with God, and heaven, and virtue. Let those noble views which man's immortal character affords fill and exalt our minds, 3 B 26 0?? DEATIf. Passengers only through this sublunary region, let our thoughts often ascend to that divine country, which we are taught to consider as the native seat of the soul. There we form connexions that are never broken. There we meet with friends who never die. Among celestial things there is firm and lasting constancy, while all that is on earth changes and passes away. Such are some of the fruits we should reap from the tender feelings excited by the death of friends. But they are not only our friends who die. Our enemies also must go to their long home. Let us, therefore, III. Consider how we ought to be affected, when ihey from whom suspicions alienated, or rivalry has divided us — they with whom we have long contended, or by whom we imagine ourselves to have suffered wrong, are laid, or about to be laid, in the grave. How inconsiderable then appear those broils in which we had been long involved, those contests and feuds which we thought were to last for ever? The awful moment that now terminates them makes us feel their vanity. If there be a spark of humanity left in the breast, the remembrance of our common fate then awakens it. Is there a man, who, if he were admitted to stand by the deathbed of his bitterest enemy, and beheld him endur- ing that conflict which human nature must suffer at the last, would not be inclined to stretch forth the hand of friendship, to utter the voice of forgiveness, and to wish for perfect reconciliation with him before he left the world ? Who is there that, when he beholds the re- mains of his adversary deposited in the dust, feels not, in that moment, some relentings at the remembrance of those past animoshies which mutually imbiltered their life ? — " There lies the man with whom I contended so long^ silent and mute for ever. He is fallen ; a?id I am about to follow him. How poor is the advantage which I now enjoy ? Where arc the fruits of all our contests ? Jn a short time we shall he laid together ; andnuremem' hrance remain of either of us under the sun. How many miatahcs may there have been between us? Had not he ox DEATH. 27 his virtues and good qunlities as iceJl as I? When \re shall both appear before the judgment-seat of God, shall I be found innocent, and free of blame, for all the enmity 1 have borne to him ?" — My friends, let the anticipation of such sentiments serve now to correct the inveteracy of prejudice, to cool the heat of anger, to allay the fierceness of resentment. How unnatural it is for ani- mosities so lasting to possess the hearts of mortal men, that nothing can extinguish them but the cold hand of death ! Is there not a sufficient proportion of evils in the short span of human life, that we seek to increase their number by rushing into unnecessary contests with one another 1 When a few suns more have rolled over our heads, friends and foes shall have retreated together; and their love and their hatred be equally buried. Let our few days then be spent in peace. While we are all journeying onwards to death, let us rather bear one another^'s burdens, than harass one another by the way. Let us smooth and cheer the road as much as we can, rather than fill the valley of our pilgrimage with the hateful monuments of our contention and strife. ) Thus I have set before you some of those meditations which are naturally suggested by the prevalence of death around us ; by the deatii of strangers, of friends, and of enemies. Because topics of this nature are obvious, let it not be thought that they are without use. They re- quire to be recalled, repeated, and enforced. Moral and religious instruction derives its efficacy, not so much from what men are taught to know, as from what they are brought to feel. It is not the dormant knowledge of any truths, but the vivid impression of them, which has influence on practice. Neither let it be thought that such meditations are unseasonable intrusions upon those who are living in health, in affluence, and ease. There is no hazard of their making too deep or painful an impression. The gloom which they occasion is transient ; and will soon, too soon, it is probable, be dispelled by the succeeding afi'airs and pleasures of the world . To wisdom it certainly belongs, that men should B3 28 REFUGE Ih DISTRESS. be impressed with just views of their nature and their state ; and the pleasures ol" life will always be enjoyed to most advantage when they are tempered with serious thought. There is a time to mourn ; as Avell as a time to rcjuicc. There is a virtuous sorrow^ which is better than laughter. There is a sadness of the countenance., by which the heart ts made better. HOPE IN CfOD THE ONLY REFUGE IN DISTRESS. B V JACOB D LT C H E, A.M. When overwhelmed with grief, My heart within me dies, Helpless, and far from all relief, To Heaven I lift mine eyes. Psalm xhi. 11.— WAy art thou cast down, O mi/ soul? and why art thou disquieted within me ? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God. The Psalm from whence my text is taken presents us with a lively picture of a true believer struggling under some violent assaults from the enemies of his peace. Whether the distress of David was occasioned by the persecution of Saul, or the straits to which he was reduced by the unnatural rebellion of his son Ab- salom ; whether it proceeded from a deep sensibility of those remains of corruption which lurk in the most regenerate breasts ; or from an apprehension that God had withdrawn " the light of his countenance" from his soul ; in eitl^er of these cases, his affliction must have been acute indeed, and he might well break forth into this afl'ecting strain of religious melancholy : — " Why art thou cast down, O my soul ? and why art thou dis- quieted within me ? Why dost thou suffer these out- REFUGE IN DISTRESS. 29 ward afflictions to bear down tliy constancy, or these inward struggles to weaken thy faith? Hope thou in God !" — Hafst thou not iieretolore experienced, in innu- merable instances, the wonders of his love ? Hath not his arm supported thee in the greatest extremities '' Hath not his countenance cheered thee in thy darkest moments ? — Why, then, this strange dejection now ? O where is all thy wonted heroism fled ? — where that lively trust and conhdence in thy God that has heretofore steeled thy breast against the arrows of adversity ? " Is his arm shortened that it cannot save ? Is his mercy clean gone forever? And hath God forgotten to be gracious ?" No, my soul ! — already do I feel his ani- mating presence : sure I am that " I shall yet praise him," for delivering me out of my present distresses : sure I am that the sweet influences of his blessed Spirit will yet sooth my deep disquietude, and give health and cheerfulness to my dejected countenance. Yea, sure I am that he is still " my God," my God by cove- nant, my guardian God, the God of my life, the God of my love ! Thus spake, thus triumphed, "the man after God's own heart !" Doubtless the conflict was severe and tedious ; but faith was at length victorious. Noble en- couragement this to everyone that hath listed under the banners of Jesus Christ, and commenced his Christian warfare ! Come, then, ye candidates for heaven ! ye followers of the Lamb ! ye strangers and pilgrims upon earth ! that have already entered upon your journey through this valley of tears to the heavenly Canaan ! Come, let us take a view together of the difliculties and dangers whicli we are taught to expect upon the road ! Let us trace the sources of that uneasiness and disquiet- ude to v/hich the best of Christians are frequently ex- posed, and as we proceed, apply to them the noble pre- scription pointed out by the text : " Hope thou in God, for I sliall yet praise him, who is the Jienlth of my coun- tenance and my God." 'I'he first, and I believe the principal spi^rpes of the 30 RtFUOE LN DISTRESS. sincere Christian's heaviness and disquietude, are those remains of sin and corruption which stain the purest and most regenerate breasts. Under the first openings of grace, the first dawnings of divine light and love upon the soul, the change fjoni death to life is frequently so great and transporting, that the young unpractised con- vert is lost in admiration. From the depths of his own misery and corru})tion he is raised to such stupendous prospects of redeeming love that, like the disciples on Mount Tabor, he is unwilling to leave the divine efful- gence that surrounds him, to descend from the height of gospel comfort, and to encounter tlie innumerable obstacles that await his progress in the world below. But when once the fervours of this first love are abated ; when once the young candidate is called forth to testify his affection for his Saviour by acts of obedience, pa- tience, resignation, fortitude, under temporal as well as spiritual trials and calamities — then it is that the clouds begin to gather ; the day of distress approaches ; " his sins take such fast hold of him that he is not able to look up ;" his secret corruptions start forth unexpectedly from t-very corner of his heart, and throw his whole soul into confusion. It is an attack for which he is unprepared, from a quarter which he little expected. Scarce is he able to recollect his past experience ; or, if he does, it is not with a view to strengthen his faith, but to increase his melancholy. In the full bitterness of his soul he is ready to exclaim, " O that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me ! when his candle shined upon my head, and when by his light I walked through dark- ness." Once I thought that 1 had gained a sure refuge in my Redeemer's arms ; I hoped that my peace was made, that I was a child of God, and had received the earnest of the Spirit in my heart. But, alas ! I now fear that this was but a pleasing dream; that Satan trans- formed himself into an angel of light to deceive my soul ; that my conversion was a visionary thing, not a real change of my corrupted nature. If this be not the case, REFUGE IN mSTRESS. SI whence is it that the sorrows of my heart are tnus en- larged ? It* I am indeed a child of God, " Why go I thus heavily while the enemy oppresses me ?" And yet I hate these corruptions, which I feel so sensibly; and my greatest distress and uneasiness is, that I do feel them, 'riie desire of my soul is towards God ; and there is nothing in the whole world but what I would cheer- fully resign to be at peace with him. Yea, I can lay my hand upon my heart, and safely declare, that grievous as the transgressions are into which my corruptions have hurried me, yet I feel something within me that bids me hope, that the God whom I have offended is the God whom 1 love." | Such are the sad disquietudes which the latent remains of sin frequently awaken in the believer's breast ! Many excellent Christians there are who go thus mourning and disconsolate to their graves ; while a few, perhaps, after repeated conflicts and repeated victories, obtain at length that sweet assurance which enabled the apostle to declare, that " neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, should separate him from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus." I As for those who are still mourning, and refuse to be comforted, — who are continually expostulating with themselves in the plaintive language of my text, " Why art thou cast down, O my soul 1 and why art thou dis- quieted within me ?" let us only ask them whether the frame of their minds is in any respect similar to that of, holy David's ? Doth thy soul, poor trembling Christian,' " pant after thy God as the hart panteth after the water- brooks ? Art thou athirst for God, even the living God ?" Are the desires of thine heart all centered in Christ Jesus ? Dost thou wish to know him more fully, to serve him more faithfully, to love him more ardently, to receive the sanctifying influences of his Spirit here, in order to be qualiried to dwell in everlasting communion with him hereafter ? Is this the real state of thy mind ? 32 REFUGE IN DISTRESS. Take comfort then ! " Hope thou in Cod ; for ihoii shalt yet praise him, \vho is the heahh of thy coualenance and thy God." But are tliere no other sources of distress and dis- quietude to the sincere Christian than the latent corrup- tions of his own heart ? Are not some of his severest trials occasioned by the afflictive dispensations of Divine Providence ? Doubtless they are. For good and vir- tuous men are so far from being exempted from misfor- tunes and afflictions, that they are taught to expect a double portion : — '' For whom the Ijord lovcih he cor- recteth ; and chasteneth every son that he receiveth." Under the immediate influence of these severe visita- tions, the " soul is indeed cast down and disquieted ;" it can scarcely penetrate the gloom with wliich its sor- rows encompass it, or discover the potent arm that struck the blow, and robbed it of its peace. Or if it should see the will of God in the infliction — how hard to resign ! — to kiss the rod, and bless the correcting hand ! When dire disease spreads its fatal venom through the human frame, and robs us of the bloom of youth, and the joys of health — when prosperity withdraws her smile, and poverty, with her attendant woes, succeeds — when death snatches a bosom friend or dear relative from our embraces — how difficult to adopt the language of the good old priest ! " It is the Lord's will ; let him do what seemeth him good." The recollection of former prosperity, and of all the spiritual and temporal blessings which an indulgent Heaven had with profusion showered on our heads, serves only to give additional weight to the present load of grief, and deepen the melancholy that clouds and op- presses the soul. The eye of sorrow is perpeturdly look- ing back, and lamenting the loss of objects in which the jnistaken mind had fondly centered all its felicity. It rarely ventures to send fortli one eager look into the re- gion of hope. It deems it impossible to turn a present distress into a present blessing ; and can nev^r conceivft REFUGE IN DISTRESS. 33 that darkness itself should be the very substance through which the light of Heaven must again be rendered visi- ble to the benighted heart. ■ In the moment of Job's despondency under the severe trials with which he was visited, he would have reasoned and spoke far otherwise than he did, had it suited the purposes of Heaven to unveil at that moment the secret design of his present affliction. Had he discerned the angel that was " riding in the whirlwind," — had he be- held "the hand tliat directed the storm," — he would doubtless have changed the language of his exclama- tion : — O my soul ! he would then have said, though thou art not " as in months past, as in the days when God preserved thee," yet have I a secret hope that thou wilt soon feel again his reviving presence, and praise him for greater blessings than thou hast hereto- fore received. Indeed, my brethren, the most seemingly severe dis- pensations, if we could raise our thoughts for a few moments above the considerations of flesh and blood, would appear to be dispensations of mercy. Medicines, you know, are seldom sweet or palatable : — and yet, would you not tliank your physician for administering them, when he knows they are necessary for the recov- ery of your health ? And canst thou then, O Chris- tian ! repine, or be dissatisfied with thy Saviour, for mingling the bitter draught of affliction, when he fore- sees that thine everlasting salvation, perhaps, depends upon the remedy ? Every thing that ties thee to the world keeps thee at a distance from Christ. Can thy Saviour more effectually testify his affection for thee than by breaking these cords, and thus lessening thine attachment to the world ? Cease, therefore, to repine at thy loss ! Be not cast down or disquieted ! Thy God hath not forsaken thee : he is only preparing thee for better times — " Hope thou therefore in him, for thou shalt yet praise him, who is the health of thy counte- nance and thy God." Lastly, The world in which he lives, and the men B 3 34 REFUGE IN DISTRESS. >vith whom he is obliged lo converse, administer new causes of sorrow and disquietude to tlie sincere Christian. The secret treachery of pretended friends, or the open maHce of avowed enemies — the general disrespect and contempt with which virtue is treated, and the honours and encouragement which are given to vice — all conspire to wound his breast, and even to render him less pleased than he wishes to be with the society of his fellow-crea- tures. For who that has the least spark of zeal for the lionour of his God can bear to hear his name blasphemed and his religion ridiculed? to see his precepts violated with impunity, and his ordinances neglected and despised ? And yet, to oppose these prevailing enormities, to testify an abhorrence of them by private reproofs or public cen- sures, is sometimes deemed rudeness and impertinence. Yea, such is the sad degeneracy of mankind, that if we would be truly religious, now-a-days, we must dare to be singular. But be not thou discouraged, thou child of God ! Though placed in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, thou hast reason to say, with David, " Wo is me, that I am constrained to dwell with IMeshecIi, and to have my habitation among the tents of Kedar ! — that I had the wings of a dove, for tlien would I flee away, and be at rest !" — though integrity, upright- ness, and the fear of God should be even banished from the abodes of men — though the church of God should be laid level with the dust, and the disciples of a cruci- fied Jesus be ridiculed and reviled — yet fear thou not, neither be dismayed ! God sits at the helm of the uni- verse — Christ Jesus will take care of "his own:" and as for thyself, if, with Job, thou art determined " to hold last tliy righteousness, and not to let it go, nor sutler thine heart to reproach thee, so long as thou livest" — if thou liopcst in God, and trustest in the Lord thy Sa- viour — if the righteousne';s of Christ is thy clothing, and faith in him thine impenetrable shield — *' be thine outward circumstances in life what they will, believe me, thou art still under the defence of the Most High, and THE RESURRECTICff. 86 safe under the shadow of his wings." The stormy wind may blow, the billows of adversity may rise and rage ; but while thou hast fast hold of the Rock of Ages, thou oanst no more be moved by their blackest, rudest efforts, than are the strong foundations of some stately edifice by the light breezes of a summer sky ! THE CERTAINTY AND HAPPINESS OF THE RESURRECTION. By THE REV. GEORGE B. MILLER, A.M. When God is nigh, my faith is strong, His arm is my Almighty prop: Be glad my heart, rejoice my tongue, My dying flesh shall rest in hope. Psalm xvi. 9. — Mrj jiesh also shall rest in hop€. One of the peculiar excellences of the gospel is, that it has stripped death of its terrors and the grave of its gloom. The departure of the Christian is styled a sleep — his abode in the grave is called a rest. In the lively exercise of faith, he can sing with the poet, " Death now no more I dread, But cheerful close mine eyes; Death is a sleep, the grave a bed ; With Jesus I shall rise." Or with a Paul he may exclaim, in a tone of triumph, " O death, where Is thy sting ! O grave, vi-here is thy victory I" Or with David in the text, " Therefore my heart is glad and my glory rejoicelh : my flesh also shall rest in hope." In further developing the instruction and comfort con- tained in these words, we shall consider — • First, The certainty of the believer's resurrection. 36 THE RESURRECTION. Secondly, The happy consequences of that glorious event. And may Almighty God, the Father of mercies, give us all a personal interest in these truths, for Jesus' sake ! If David, under the darker dispensation of the old covenant, was enabled by the Spirit to express his con- fident expectation of a future resurrection, much more may every true disciple of Christ look forward with un- wavering faith to that stupendous event, now that he hath appeared who hath " abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light by the gospel." The certainty of the believer's resurrection is founded. First, Upon the fact of the Saviour's rising from the tomb. This is the apostle's argument : " Now, if Christ be preached that he rose from the dead, how say some among you that there is no resurrection of the dead'? But if there be no resurrection of the dead, then is Christ not risen. And if Christ be not risen, then is our preach- ing vain, and your faith is also vain." Hence, we see how important a doctrine in the gospel scheme this is : how necessary an item in the articles of our faith. Nothing less than the whole foundation of our hopes of heaven rests upon it. This depends therefore upon the fact of the Redeemer's resurrection. To enter into a full detail of the reasons upon which the certainty of this fact is grounded, would lead us too far from our present object. It is sufficient for us, as Christians, as believers in Divine revelation, to know from the word of God, that " Christ is risen, and become the first fruits of them that slept." To this truth prophets and apostles bear ^vitness. Christ himself had foretold his resurrection, and in con- firmation of his word, after lie left the tomb he showed liimself " alive to liis disciples by many infaUible proofs." This was a subject to wliicli the first preachers of the gospel not merely occasionally referred, but by which they introduced their message of peace to men ; and like JSt. Paul, in the passage just quoted, rested the truth and authority of their mission upon it. To reject this THr RF.SURRFX'TIOX. 37 would be 10 rejert tho whole gospel — would bo to im- peach the aiitlunity of (Mirist and tlie veracity oi (iod. And, in the closest connexion with tlie lesnnectionor the head, is that of all the members. Clirirst Jesus lived and acted, died and rose again, as a public character — as tlie representative of his clunch. Secondly. Says tlie apostle to the Romans : " If the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he tliat raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken 3'our mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you." If the former argument proved the general truth that all believers shall rise in virtue of the resur- rection of Christ, this proposition of Divine truth sJiows who they are that have ground to hope that they shall participate in that joyful event. It is they who have the Spirit of Christ. " For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, tlicy are the sons of God." To such only the promise belongs. By this mark, therefore, we must try our hopes. " The fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, long- sufiering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, tem- perance. Arc these fruits produced in our hearts ? are they visible in our lives ? Then we may dwell with a cheerful hope upon the pleasing thought, that though this body is doomed to die because of sin, yet even in death " our llesh shall rest in hope." Death shall put a stop to sin and suftering, but not to our existence. Not only the soul, the immaterial part, is proof against the mortal shall of the " king of terrors ;" the flesh, too, the frail and feeble body, shall once escape his grasp. Death shall be robbed of his prey — the grave shall give up its trust. The bodies of the saints tliat now sleep in the dust shall be raised, never to die more. The majesty of God, the honour of the Saviour, and the dignity of the Holy Spirit are involved in this point. The majesty of (lod and the glory of his name are involved, and that in so tender a manner, tliat our FiOrd severely upbraids tho Sadducees, who denied the resur- 4 38 THE RFSTJRRtCTIOK, rection, for robbing (iod of his glory by tlieir unworthy iileas of so great a IJcing. For when lie condescended to be called tlie Giod of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, he had given satisfac- tory assurance that these his servants were not dead ; " f»)r he is not the God of tlie dead, but of tlie living." And shall we, who profess to know and to honour him as our Ciod, he guilty of holding the same degrading opinion respecting his majesty? Never for a moment let us sufl'er ourselves to doubt this grand, this cheering truth, that " the dead in Christ shall rise ;" tliat " he that helieveth, though he were dead, yet shall he live ;" that the sons of God are immortal, because their Father is. The immortality of the soul was a truth of which even the heathens were not entirely ignorant. The resurrection and consequent immortality of the body was liintcd at under the ancient dispensation, but its full and clear development was reserved for times of gospel splendour. Not only the majesty of God, but the honour of Christ, p.s Mediator, is deeply involved in this point. Without this final triumph over death and hell, his victory would liave remained for ever incomplete. Onegreatpurpo.se of his death and resurrection would have remained un- accomplished. " Death, the last enemy," would have it to boast that he was invincible. But no. This boast is silenced. Victory is altogether on the side of our (Japtain. The powers of darkness are in chains ; suf- fered to prolong their existence only during His pleasure, till the whole work of redemption shall be achieved, and the last name " written in the book of life." Then shall that saying be gloriously fulfdlcd, " Death is swallowed up in victory." By his "one offering," Christ "hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified ; and unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time, without sin, unto salvation." This is that full and final adoption for which believers still continue to groan while in this vaie Qf tears, to wit, " the redemption of oitr body," THE RESURRECTION. 30 Let the stuic, in tho pride of liis heart, dechiro that he cares not uhat beoonies ol" his mortal part ; the Chris- tian is actuated by kindher Icehngs : he is concerned for tlic restoration of this companion of the soul, now degraded by sin ; and he is sure tliat the times of resti- tution ;.irc approacliing. That the honour of liis iNIaster and Head is interested ; that once he shall bo made like to his glorilicd body, for he shall see him as he is. Furtlicr, the dignity of the Holy ►Spirit is concerned. Does he d\vcll personally in those tliat belong to Christ? Are Christians, by reason of this indwelling of the Spirit, the temples of God ? It is the body that is the temple. Of this it is said, " If any man defde the temple, him shall God destroy." And shall this temple be consigned to final destruction, and nothing at last remain of the sanctified edifice but a mass of rubbish and a heap of corruption ? No. Very different is the doctrine of the Bible on this subject. The Spirit will not forsake his abode ; but though for a season it may lie in ruins, it shall be built again, a more glorious and perfect edifice than it was before. The soul, it is true, is the first object of care to that Almighty agent. But the body also participates in his solicitude; it also shall have a sliare in the working of his mighty power, whereby he is able to subdue all things unto liimself. Thus have we seen, that if it is true that Christ is risen ; if there is any dependence to be put upon the dechirations of Scripture ; if the majesty of God shall sufier no injury ; if the honour of Christ, conferred upon him as Mediator, in consequence of his great under- taking, shall remain safe ; if the dignity of the Holy Spirit shall be maintained ; — then every sincere Chris- tian has a right to say, with a David, " My flesh also shall rest in hope." But a subject so intimately connected with the glory of Jehovah cannot possibly be one of secondary import- ance. It is evidently one in which God takes, if I may so express myself, a peculiar interest, Tliis abiui 40 lilE RE.^URKtCliON. flanfly sliows, tliat it inu.st likewise possess a vast inter- est for those wlio are the iiiiiiiediate objects ol' this Divine feolieitude. It may be questioned Avheliier (yliristians are always as sensible as they ought to be to the pow- cri'ul bearing upon their iinal and perfeet happiness Avliich this doctrine possesses. We arc too apt, I think, to consider and speak of it as a tiling comparatively of little weight ; and no wonder, then, if we fail to draw the comfort and instruction which it is calcidatcd to yield. That, by the blessing of God, we may see something of its importance to our fnture felicity, let us examine, t^econdly, the happy efVeets connected with the resur- rection of believers, so far as means are aiforded lor such an examination irom the word of God. The Scriptures assure us that all the dead shall be raised, and those that remain alive at the coming of Christ shall be changed. But it is only to those that liavc believed on the Saviour that this will be a happy event. AVhilc here, the body was little else than a source of temptation, of trials, and suflcring. How often did it demand, and by its clamorous importunity for indulgence did it gain, those attentions which ought to have been directed to higher objects. Often, too, by its weakness or its sufl'erings, it weighed down the immortal spirit, and checked its aspirations, and interrupted its endeav- ours, and defeated its eflbrts to rise to heaven. jMany are the instances where the soul is wrapped in gloom and despondence, through the oppressive weight of its feeble companion. In the ordination of Provi- dence the mind can operate, in its present state, only through the medium of the bodily organs. Hence, it partakes in the most sensible manner in the inlirmities to which they are liable. We need not remind you of the decay of the mental faculties, which to all a))pear- ance takes place when the bodily powers are cnfe-cbled by age or disease. We have, in fact, no evidence that the soul can ope- rate without the aid of some instriuncnts analogous to THE RESURRKCTIOX. 41 the organs of the body. There is a remarkable passage ill tlie Second Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians, whieli goes far to show, tliat immediately upon their decease, believers shall be invested with something which, though by no means a body of flesh and blood, will supply its place in a far superior degree. The words are as fol- lows : — " For we know that if oiu' earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with our house which is I'rom heaven. If so be that being clothed we shall not be foimd naked. For v/e that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened, not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life." Here the apostle plainly expresses such an analogy as we have supposed, when he calls this mortal body a tabernacle, the other a house. Both answer the same purpose, only the latter is vastly more substantial and excellent. That he does not allude in this place to the resurrection is evident, because this clothing upon with a house from lieaven is what he expected to take place immediately after death; else we should meanwli''e, as he expresses it, " be found naked." Further, he speaks of this heavenly house as already prepared for its future tenant, which could not easily be said of the body that is to slumber its allotted period in the ground. We have dwelt the longer upon this point, though not immediately connected witli our present subject, because it is one that is seldom adverted to in public discourses, although it furnishes an interesting topic for pious contemplation. We return to the question on hand. This frail, and often troublesome tenement of clay, shall therefore be built again in freshness, vigour, and beauty — in utility and excellence far surpassing its ori- ginal conformation, yet so as to be essentially the same body that is committed to the dust. The surprising changes that sUMl be wrought by the power of God are 42 THE RESURRECTION. described by the inspired apostle when he thus speaks : " It is sown in rorriiption ; it is raised in incorruption : it is sown in dishonour ; it is raised in glory : it is sown in weakness ; it is raised in power : it is sown a natural body ; it is raised a spiritual body." From all this we gather, that the bodies of the saints at die resurrection will be every way fitted to be the eternal companions of their glorified spirits, — fitted to yield an increase of hap- piness, beyond all they had before experienced. That these assertions arc not too large will appear when we call to your recollection a variety of expressions of strong import, in which there is an undeniable reference made to the resurrection. It is styled by 8t. Paul, in a passage already alluded to, " the manifestation of the sons of God." He calls it " the adoption for which we wait, to wit, the redemption of the body." St. Peter speaks of " the times of restitution of all things which God hath spoken of by the mouth of all his lioly prophets since the world began," which is to take place wdien Christ returns the second time. To die same eflect are the words of St. .lohn : " Be- loved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be ; but we know that when He (Christ) shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." But no one can deny that Christ still wears (though in a form infinitely more glorious than while he was on cardi) the same body which was laid in the tomb ; Avhich rested in hope, and which was raised again by the power of God ; which he showed to his astonished (Hsciplcs ; wdiich retained the prints of the nails and the wound in his side. 1 liCt us fix our attention for a few moments upon these declarations of sacred writ, respecting the resurrection of the faithful. 1 It is termed, " the manifestation of the sons of God,' the adoption, the redemption of the body, the redemption' of the purchased possession," THE RESURRECTION'. 43 Of Cliri«t wc read, that " He was declared (o he the 8011 of God, with power accordiiio to the spirit of lioh-' ncss, hy the resurrection from tlie dead." Even so it shall he with his followers. Now, already, they are known and acknowledged of God as his tlear children. J3iit their chief glory is still liidden in eternity, concealed from the view of the world. " Oin- life," says the apostle, " is hid with Christ in God ;" but " when ('hrist, who is our life, shall appear," viz. at his second coming, " then shall ye also appear with him in glory." Then shall all his people be openly acknowledged of God, and presented to the as- tonished gaze of assembled worlds, clothed in robes of resplendent brightness. " Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun hi the kingdom of the Father." " They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the iirmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars, for ever and ever." For this glorious event, the apostle assures us, the whole creation waits in earnest expectation ; " for wc know," says he, " that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now." Such is the virulent nature of sin, that it has intro- duced ruin and degradation, devastation and havoc, among the workmanship of God. AVe know not the lull extent of the evil : wc witness its eflccts only par- tially ; yet we see enough to iill the soul with horror at the sight of all the wretchedness that it has occasioned. 'I'he spoiler is gone forth ; but it is only for an appointed season : the times of restitution are approaching. We, according to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwellcth righteousness. He thiit sitteth upon the throne hath said, " Behold, I make all tilings new." Then shall " tiie tabernacle of God be with men; and he will dwell with them, and they shall 1)0 his people. And (Jod shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying ; neither shall there be any more pain ; for the former things are passed away." 44 THE RESURRECTION. " He that ovrrcomclli shall inherit all things ; but the fearful and inibclicvin^, and the abominable, and mur- derers, and wlioreniongors, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burncth with fire and brimstone, whick is the second death." In that New Jerusalem there " shall be no more curse ; but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it ; and his servants shall serve him, and they shall see his face, and his name shall be in their foreheads, and they shall reitjn for ever and ever." For says the apostle John, "We shall be like him, for we shall sec him as he is." If the countenance of Moses, after being on the mount with God, and beholding a small poiiion of his glory, such as mortal sight could endure, became glistening, so that the children of Israel durst not behold him, and he was compelled to put a veil over his face, what must be the eflect of that glorious vision of Jehovah Jesus, face to face, to w'hich all his followers shall then be admitted ? What the apostle declares concerning the spiritual likeness wrought in the hearts of believers unto their glorious Head, will then be verified in regard to tlieir renovated bodies. " For we all with open face behold- ing as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the sante image, from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of tiie Lord." Such are the incomprehensibly glorious prospects to wdiich the word of God calls the attention of every be- lieving soul. Such will be the astonishing termination of tlie present scene, when the mystery of God is finished, and the mediatorial office of the Redeemer fully accom- plished, and the time of the end shall come. This ought to be the subject of our daily meditations, prayers, and earnest exertions, " that we be found wor- thy to stand before him on that day, looking fur and hastening" unto it, as the apostle speaks. This was the subject of St. Faul's prayers for his beloved Ephe- sians, when he desires " that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, would give vinto them tiip THE REbURUECTlON. 45 b|nrii ul wisdom and revelation in the knowledge ul liini ;■ the eyes of their iindcrslanduig bein<^ enlightened, to know what is the ho])c of liis ealling, and what the riehes of the glory of his inheritance in the saints, and what is the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe ; according to the working of his mighty jiower, which he wrought in Christ when he raised him Irom the dead, and set him at his own right-hand in tnc ncavenly places." Here is comfort — here is instruction. But in order to obtain the present benefit of these " exceeding great and precious promises," by which we shall " be made partakers of the divine nature," we nuist dwell upon them, we must keep them in remembrance. What occasion so proper to think of tiiesc things a.-^ when the chastening hand of God is laid upon us, and our earthly comforts are lied, and we are called to realize the brevity, the vanity of this life, m mourning over a departed friend? Then let us turn the eye of faith towards that scene where change, and loss, and death are unknown : then, by the aid of God's holy word, and the assistance of his gracious Spirit, let us contemplate the glorious inherit- ance of the saints, mitil our stricken hearts are kindled into a warmer alVcction to that gracious Deliverer to whom we owe our rescue and our hopes ; till the earnest desire is excited " to be with Christ, which is far better." What so well calculated to assuage the violence of our grief, as the certain assurance that this mourning and weeping shall soon be turned to joy ? That the ashes which are committed to the groimd " shall rest in hope?" — that death shall die, and free "grace reign through righteousness imto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord," in every believer ? But there is likewise much instruction to be derived from the subject that has been considered. However, that we may not trespass too much upon your time, we shall barely hint at some particulars. First. We learn, that if God hath shown such solid 46 THE RESURRECTION. tude tor llie l)0(ly ; if " Clirist is the Saviour of tlie body'' no less than of the soul ; if the Holy Spirit condescends to make it his temple ; then ought we to show a proper regard for it : and neither on the one hand dishonour it by uiilioly actions, nor on the otlier deprive it of the necessary attention Avhicli it requires. Secondly. We learn, that to ensure to our bodies a ])lissful resurrection and the highest perfection, our lirst and cliief care must be directed to the soul, for whose accommodation it is destined. It is only by following after holiness of heart that we can ensure to these earthen vessels an entire and eternal cessation from pain. Thirdly. AVe learn how complete and glorious, taking in the whole man, body and soul, and ensuring the ut- most perfection of every part, is that salvation which Christ has wrought out for us. Let us, then, with humble gratitude renew our cove- nant with him ; or if hitherto we have neglected this privilege and duty, let us lose no time to flee to him who still calls unto everyone that is athirst to come and drink the waters of life. Let this great question hence- forth occupy the chief place in our hearts. How we may obtain a share in that inheritance which the Saviour has purchased ? This point secured, we shall be able to me(;t death with a smile, and to adopt the language of the inspired psalmist, *' My llesh also shall rest in hope." A MORTAL AND A GLORIFIED BODY. 47 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A MORTAL AND A GLORIFIED BODY. B V T H K REV. JOHN WE S L E V, M. A. "My flpsh sliall slumber in the prounJ, Till the last truinjiet's joyful sound ; Then burst the chains with sweet surprise, And in my Saviour's image rise." 1 Cor. XV. 35. — But some will say how are the dead raised up ? and loith what body do thty come ? n. I now proceod to the second thing proposed, which was to describe the difference the Scripture makes between the quaUtics of a mortal and a glorified body. The change which sliall be made in our bodies at the resurrection, according to the Scripture account, will consist chiefly in these four things : 1. That our bodies shall be raised immortal and incorruptible. 2. That they shall be raised in glory. 3. That they shall be raised in power. 4. That they shall be raised spiritual bodies. I. The body that we shall have at the resurrection shall be immortal and incorruptible : " For this cor- ruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality." Now these words immortal and incorruption not only signify that we shall die no more, — for in that sense the damned are immortal and incorruptible, — but that we shall be perfectly free from all the bodily evils which sin brought into the world : that our bodies shall not be subject to sickness, or pain, or any other inconveniences we are daily exposed to. This the Scripture calls " the redemption of our bodies ;" the freeing them from all their maladies. Were we to receive them again subject to all the frailties and miseries which we are forced to wrestle M'ilh, I much doubt M'hetlier a wise man, were he left to his choice, would willingly take liis again ; whether he 4ft DTTFF.nF.Krr BKTWF.r.N* would not rlioose to kt Ins still lir rotlins ill tlio grave, rdlhor th:m to be aoain cliaiiu-fl to such a ninibersome clod of earth. Surii a rosiirreclion would be, as a wise heathen calls it, "a resurrection to another sleep." It would look more like a redemption to death again than a resurrection to life. The best thing we can say ol' this house of earth is, that it is a ruinous building, and will not be long before it tumbles into dust — that it is not our home ; we look for another house, eternal in the heavens. 'J'hat we shall not always be confmed here, but that in a little time we shall be delivered from the bondage of cor- ruption, from this burden of flesh, into the glorious hb- erty of the sons of God. What frail things these bodies of ours are! How soon are they disordered! Xo what a troop of diseases, pains, and other infirmities are they constantly subject ! And how does the least distemper disturb our minds, and make life itself a bur- den ! Of liow many parts do our bodies consist ! And if one of these be disordered, the whole man suffers. If but one of these slender threads, whereof our flesh is made up, be stretched beyond its due proportion, or fretted by any sharp humour, or broken, what torments does it not create ! Nay, when our bodies are at best, what pains do we take to answer their necessities, to jnovide for their sustenance, to preserve them in health, and to keep them tenantable, in some tolerable fitness for our soul's use ! And what time we can spare from our labour is taken up in rest, and refreshing our jaded bodies, and fitting them for work again. How are wc forced, even naturally, into the coniincs of death, even to cease to be : — at least, to pass so many hours without any useful or reasonable thoughts, merely to keep them in repose ! But our hope and comfort are, that we shall shortly be deUvered from this burden of flesh. When "(Tod shall wipe away all tears from our eyes, and there shall be no mt)re death, n( ilher sorrow nor cry- ing, neither shall there he any more pain; for the former things arc passed away," Oh ! when shall we A MORTAL AXD A OLORIFrFD liODV. 49 arrive at tiiat happy land wliore no complaints wore cvpr lieard— where wo shall all enjoy uninterrupted health, both of body and mind, and n(3ver more be exposed to any of those inconvenienees that (hsturb our present pil- grimaire ! When we sliall have once passed from death unto life, we shall be eased of all the troublesome earo of our bodies, which now takes up so much of our time and thouohts; we shall be set free from all those mean and tiresome labours which we must now undergo to support our lives. Yon robes of liuht, with which we shall be clothed at the resurrection of the just, will not stand in need of those careful provisions which it is so troublesome to us here either to procure, or to be with- out. But then, as our T.ord tells us, " those who shall be accounied Morthy to obtain (hat world, neidier marry nor are given in marriage, neither can they die any more, but they are equal to the angels." Tlieir bodies are neither subject to disease, nor want that daily sustenance which these mortal bodies cannot be without. " Meats for the belly and the belly for meats ; but God will destroy both it and them." This is that perfect happi- ness which all good men shall enjoy in Uie other world; a mind free from all trouble and guilt, in a body free from all pain and diseases. Thus our mortal bodies shall be raised immortal : they shall not only be always preserved from denth (for so these might 'be, if God pleased), but the nature of them shall be wholly changed, so that they shall not retain seeds of mortality : they cannot die any more. 2. Our bodies shall be raised in glory. " Then shall the righteous shine as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." A resemblance of this we have in the lustre of Moses' face, when he had conversed with God on the mount : his f\ice shone so bright that tjic children of Israel were afraid to come near him till he threw a veil over it ; and that extraordmary majesty of Stephen's face seemed to be an earnest of his glory. " All that sat in the council, looking steadfastly on him, saw his face a'; it had been the face of an anecl." How, then, 5 C CO Dirrr.Tir.KcE betweet^ if it shone so gloriously, oven on eartli, will it shine in the other uorld, wjiere his, and the bodies of all the saints, are made like unto Christ's glorious body ! How glorious the body of Christ is, we may guess from his transfii^uration. St. Peter, when he saw this, — when our Lord's face shone as the sun, and his raiment be- came shinini>- and white as snow, — was so transported with joy and admiration that he knew not what he said. When our Saviour discovered but a little of that glory which he now possesses, and which in due time he will impart to his followers, yet that little of it made the place seem a paradise ; and the disciples thought that ihey could wish for nothing better than always to live in such pure light, and enjoy so beautiful a sight. " It is good for us to be here ; let us make three tabernacles." Here let us fix our abode for ever. And if they thouglit it so happy only to be present with such heavenly bodies, and to behold them with their eyes, how much happier must it be to dwell in such glorious mansions, and to be themselves clothed with so much brightness | This excellence of our heavenly bodies will probably arise in a great measure from the happiness of our souls. The unspeakable joy that we then shall feel will break through our bodies and shine forth in our countenances. As the joy of the soul, even in this life, has some influ- ence upon the countenance, by rendering it more open and cheerful, so Solomon tells us, "A man's wisdom makes his face to shine." Virtue, as it refines a man's heart, so it makes his very looks more cheerful and lively. 3. Our bodies shall bo raised in power. This ex- presses the sprightliness of our heavenly bodies, the jiimblcness of their motion, by which they shall be obe- dient and able instruments of the soul. In this state, our bodies are no belter than clogs and fetters, which confine and restrain the freedom of the soul. The cor- ruptible i)ody presses down the soul, and the earthly tabernach^ weighs down the mind. Our dull, sluggish, jjiactivc bodies uro ofic)i unable or backward to obey A MORTAI. AND A GLORIFIED BODV. 5L the commands of the soul. But in tlie other life, " they that wait upon the Lord shall renew tlieir strength ; they shall mount up with wings as eagles ; they shall run, and not be weary ; they shall walk, and not faint :" or, as another expresses it, "they sliall run to and fro like sparks among the stubble." The speed of their motion shall be like that of devouring fire in stubble, and the height of it above tiio towering of an eagle ; for they shall meet the Lord in the air when he comes to judg- ment, and mount up witli him into the highest heaven. This earthly body is slow and heavy in all its motions, listless, and soon tired with action. But our heavenly bodies shall be as fire — as active and as nimble as our thoughts are. 4. Our bodies shall be raised spiritual bodies. Our spirits are now forced to serve our bodies, and to attend their leisure ; and do greatly depend upon them for most of their actions. But our bodies shall then wholly serve our spirits, and minister to them, and depend upon them. So that, as by a natural body Ave understand one fitted for this lower, sensible world, — for this earthly state, — so a spiritual body is one that is suited to a spiritual state, to an invisible world, to the life of angels. And, indeed, this is the principal difierencc between a mortal and a glorified body. This flesli is the most dangerous enemy we have ; we therefore deny and renounce it in our baptism. It constantly tempts us to evil ; every sense is a snare to us ; all its lusts and appetites are inordinate ; it is ungovernable, and often rebels against reason ; the law in our members wars against the law of our minds. AVhcn the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak ; so that the best of men are forced to keep it un- der, and use it hardly, lest it should betray them into folly and misery. And how does it hinder us in all our devotions ! How soon does it jade our minds when employed on holy things ! How easily, by its enchant- ing pleasures, does it divert them from those noble ex- ercises ! But when we have obtained the resurrection unto life, our bodies will be spiritualized, purified, and C3 52 DIFFERENCE EETWELN rcliiiud iVom ilicir carlluy crossness : then they will be 'lit iiistriiiiiLiils lor the soul in all its divine and lieavcnly cinploynienl : we shall not be weary of singhig praises 'to (iod through iiilinite ages. Thus, alter what hltle we have been able to conceive of it, it sulliciently appears that a glorified body is infi- nitely more excellent and desirable than this vile body. The only thing that remains is, 111. 'Jo draw some inferences from the whole. 1. From hence we may see how to account for the difler- ent degrees of glory in the heavenly world : for although all the children of (jlod shall have glorious bodies, yet the glory of them all shall not be equal, — " as one star difiercth from another star hi glory, so also is the resur- rection of the dead." They shall all shine as stars, but those who, by a constant diligence in well-doing, have attained to a higher measure of purity than others, shall shine more bright than others ; — they shall appear as more glorious stars. It is certain that the most heavenly bodies will be given to the most heaveidy souls ; so that this is no little encouragement to us to make the great- est progress we possibly can in the knowledge and love of God, since the more we are weaned from the things of the earth now, the more glorious will our bodies be at the resurrection. 2. Let this consideration engage us patiently to bear whatever troubles we may be exercised with in the present life. The time of our eternal redemption draw- eth nigh. Let us hold out a little longer, and all tears shall be wiped from our eyes, and we shall never sigh nor sorrow more. And how soon shall we forget all we endured in this earthly tabernacle, when once we are clothed with that house which is from above ! We are now but on our journey towards home, and so must expect to struggle with many dilliculties ; but it will not be long ere we come to our journey's em.], and tiuit will make amends for all. We shall then be in a quiet and safe harbour, out of the reach of all storms and dangers ; wc shall then be at home in our Father's house, no A MORTAL ANt> A GLORIFIED HODY. 53 longer exposed to the inconveniences which, so long as we abide abroad in these tents, we are subject to. And let us not Ibrlcit all this liappiness for want of a littk» more patience. Only let us hold out to the end, and we shall receive an abundant recompense for all the trouble and uneasiness of our passage, which shall be endless rest and peace. Let this especially fortify us against the fear of death : it is now disarmed, and can do us no hurt. It divides us indet'd from this body awhile, but it is only that we may receive it again more glorious. As God therefore said once to Jacob, " Fear not to go down into Egypt, for I will go down with thee, and will surely bring thee up again ;" so I may say to all who are born of God, Fear not to go down into the grave ; lay down your heads in the dust ; for God will certainly bring you up again, and that in a nmch more glorious manner. Only " be ye steadfast and immoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord," and then let death prevail over, and pull down, diis house of clay ; shice God hath un- dertaken to rear it up again, inliuitely more beautiful, strong, and useful. 64 1HL CIlK1511.v.> ft VICTORY ; THE CHKLSTIAN'S VICTORY OVER DEAIH AND THE GRAVE. BY THE REV. MR. PALMER. llcavon opens on my eyes ; my curs Willi soiinils seraphic ring. Lend, lend your wings,— I mount, I fly — t) grave, where is thy victory ? O death, where is thy sting ? J Cur. XV. 55. — O death, where is thy sling ? — O p;ravCy where is thy victory ? Let us mark the feeling of nund tliat is iiiiplictl in this text. But who can fully describe what were the apostle's leclings when he uttered this language, — " O death, where is thy sting ?" It is certainly expressive of holy composure, vigorous faith, and lively gratitude. It is expressive, 1st., of holy composure. — " O death, where is thy sting V The apostle Paul had been " in deaths oft ;" he had seen the king of terrors advance, raise his arm, and level his dart, when Mercy inter- posed. And yet he expresses no fear, but says — " O death, where is thy sting ?" How can we account for this composure? We have frc(iuently seen the hero tremble when he turns his eye to the valley of the shadow of death, and the man who has slain his thou- sands has faltered when his own dissolution was in prospect ; but here is one who is so meek that he will not revenge an insult, yet he is triumphing in the pros- pect of death. IIow is this ? is it the result of igno- rance ? is it the result of presumption ? — no ; it is the result of faith and of knowledge, a right a[)prehcnsion of the character and sacrilice oi" our Lord Jesus Christ : it was this that enabled the apostle lo speak of death in such terms with so much composure of mind, — "I am now ready to depart," " 1 am now willing to be oflcred," and " I would rather depart and be with Clhrist, which is far belter.'" ** The time of my de- parture is at hand." OVER DEATH AND Tllli GRAVE. ;-35 He speaks of it as a departure, as a change of ri\->i- dencc Iroiii one place to anotiier : this was the resuU vi' faith ; hoiicc, we observe — 2d. 'J'hat this expresses vigorous failh^ — " O deatli, where is thy sting? — () grave, where is thy victory T' It is a vigorous faitli, but it is a faith that is founded on the doctrines of the gospel ; faith in the atoning sacrifice of our Lord and Saviour. Now, Christian, just observe what is the foundation of the apostle's faith : he tells us in the commencement of this chapter — " For I de- livered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the ►Scriptures." Mind the basis of his faith ; it was not on any special revelation which he himself had re- ceived, but " according to the IScriptures," which are ful- liUed in the person and love of Christ. Again, " that he was buried, and rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures." The cross of the Saviour was the foundation of the apostle's hope, the source whence all his consolation ilowed, the grand incentive of his holy and devoted and zealous life, by which his converted soul was distinguished. These were the doctrines which he believed, and these doctrines were founded on the testimony of the Scriptures, and according to his faith so was his joy. — " O death, where is thy sting?" Now observe, Christian, there was nothing at all in the faith of the apostle that was remarkable but its vigorous exercise : it was like the faith of every Christian, nothing remarkable in it but its exercise ; it is founded on the same basis — the Scriptures ; it centres in the same object — the Saviour; it anticipates the same glory — heaven : there is no diflcrcncc, then, between the faith of Paul and the faidi of the humblest believer in the word of God, as it respects the nature of it ; and how is it, my friends, that we do not have the same vigorous faith ? — not because the promises of God arc less comprehensive now than they were then, — not be- cause the sacrifice of Christ has lost aught of its virtue in the space of eighteen hundred years. Why is it ? — 66 THE f HftlSTlAN's VICTORY because of unbelief. 8iii robs the Christian v( half his ronubrt : we have the same foundation for our faith, the sunic ol>jcct, the same warrant, which Paul had; and tiiis vigorous exercise of faith, though it is not es- sential to om- salvation (for the feeblest saint shall win — " Christ will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax"), yet it is very important to our comfort while we are sojourners in this vale of tears. 3d. 'I'he text expresses livchj gratitude. — " Thanks be to Ciod, who givcth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." Now, this is ascribing praise Avhere praise is due ; he does not ascribe his victory to the works of his own hands — he had renounced all confi- dence in the llesh long ere this ; he docs not ascribe liis victory to tlie tears of penitence — though Paul never spoke lightly of these tears, Avhich Cod beholds with approbation, and which caused joy among the angels of heaven, — but he is satisfied of this — that repentance can make no atonement for guilt; he is satislied of this — that any performance, even his best, would fall far below what God does require, and has a right to require. Under a conviction, therefore, of his own im- perfections and guilt, he flies to Christ ; he rests on the righteousness of Christ ; he rejoices in him alone, hav- ing no conlidence in the flesh ; and hence, when he speaks of victory, he ascribes the glory to Christ — *' Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." This, I say, is giving praise where it ought to be ; and, my friends, under the influ- ence of the same tSpirit, we shall be as willing as Paul to ascribe all the glory to God. — " Not unto us, not unto us, O Lord, but unto thy name be all the glory." But do you observe the connexion in which the text stands ? Paul was not satisfied with expressing grati- tude with his lips, but he goes one step forwar-d. After speaking of victory through our Lord Jesus Christ, and giving thanks, he concludes — " Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, immoveable, always abounding in the work of tlie Lord, forasmuch as> OVER DEATH AND THE GRAVE. 57 yc know tliut your hiboiir oliall nof be in vain in ilio Lord." The f/iiunjth anticipiilcd. I say anticipated, because it is not lliliy realized even by the believer at the hour of death. Paul here gives lis an illustration of his own delinition of laith : he says — "Faith is the substance of things hoped lor, the evidence ol" things not seen." Now, here he illustrates it. So strong is his faith, that he speaks of that which is to come as if it were already ])resent. Such is the faith of this character, that it makes him in the enjoyment realize that which is yet to come ; lor observe, Paul is speaking of the resurrec- tion of the dead, looking forward to that period when the voice of the Son of Ciod shall be heard through all the mansions of the dead, and when that voice shall be felt in all its quickening power ; he beholds the earth with tremendous throes giving up her dead, and the sea giving up its dead, and he says, in the anticipation — " O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory?" The triumph therefore here anticipated is complete, and must be perpetual : it is complete. It is not so at the hour of death ; the soul of the believer shall at that moment be made perfect ; his soul shall at that moment enter into the presence of the Lord ; his soul shall then be glorilied and ha})py : but the body must be consigned to the tomb ; there the sting of death is felt ; there the poison of death must rankle through all the veins, till it turns the whole into one mass of corruption. We nuist say to the worm — " Thou art our sister and brother ; and to corruption, thou art our father." "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." But the happy spirit, dislodged from its clay taberna- cle, shall triumph ; triumph in the presence of God, in felicity undisturbed, till the morning of the resurrection, Avhich shall again reunite the body and the soul ; then death itself shall die. Now, this is tiie sentiment which Paul conveys in the text ; looking forward to this re- surrection, this complete victory. Death still reigns, C 3 5ft TIFF, f IfRlSTIAN's VICTORY death still lias its millions of captives ; no bound, and no power on earth or in heaven can release tlieni till the morning of the resurrection ; but then he must let go his hold, then he must give up his power. Mark tlie reasoning of the apostle, — " JJehold, I show you a mystery ; mc shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump ; for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. JSo when this cor- ruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on innnortality, then" (and not till then) "shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ?" How complete then is the triumph that is anticipated ; the period when body and soul shall be again united, when the body itself shall be made immortal, to dwell for ever with its companion in the presence of God and the Lamb. ! And this triumph will be perpetual. No more death then ; the bands of death will be dissolved for ever ; the reign of death will cease ; the body and soul of the believer will be conformed to the gloritied image of his Saviour, to dwell for ever with the Lord, — for " he shall change our vile bodies, and fasliion them like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself." They will have no more fear of death ; they Mill be no more under tlw3 inlluence of its bondage ; those that are ad- mitted into the temple of God above shall go no more out for ever, but remain as pillars there. " I am the resurrection and the life," said the Saviour ; " he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever livcth, and believeth in me, shall never die ;" and, " because I live, ye shall live also." I infer from this subject, first, that life and immor- tality arc brought to light by the gospel. And there is OVER DEATH AXD THE CRAVE. 59 no nonfirmalion of tliis doctrmo so peculiarly intorostinjr to tho mind of man ; no real confirmation of this doc- trine, independent of the testimony of God and of the sacred Scriptures. Philosophers may reason on the constitution of the human soul, and they may infer its immortality ; and it is pleasing to see the inferences of reason so conformable to the testimony of the sacred Scriptures ; yet there is no satisfying proof but from the word of God. He who created the soul has ex- pressed what is his will concerning it. By the resurrec- tion of Jesus Christ " life and immortality are brought to light." There is something striking in that expres- sion, — the bringing of life and immortality to liglit by the gospel. The fact supposed was revealed under tho Old Testament ; it was therefore a matter of faith to tlie Old Testament saints : but what under the Old Testament was matter of faith, under the New Testa- ment is matter of fact ; for Jesus Christ has actually risen from the dead, and entered into heaven as " the first begotten, and prince of the kings of the earth." He is raised from the dead ; and therefore when we reason of life and immortality being brought to light under the gospel, we do not say what God Almighty can do, but we say what God Almighty has done ; — '•Life and immortality are brought to light by the gospel." Secondly, How indebted are wc to the mercy of God in giving us this gospel ; this word, to be a light to our feet and a lamp unto our paths ; this word, to console and support us amid all the changing scenes of life, that aflbrds prospects so delightful when all the scenes of time shall be withdrawn. Let us remember our obliga- tion to improve it, and not only to improve it to our own advantage, but anxious tliat others may be made par- takers of like precious faith with ourselves. Thirdly, Nothing but a life of faith on the Lord Jesus Christ can render the prospect of death delight- ful and easy. Remember Paul said — " For me to die is gain," but it stands in conuexion \Yith this language— GO TlfE christian'.^? VTCTOnY OVER DEATH. "For me to live is Christ;" and it is only as we are living by faitli upon the Saviour tliat we can anticipate death with any dogroo of satisfaction, with any thing like composure ol" mind, (christian, perhaps you occa- sionally know wliat it is to be held in bondage through the fear of death ; but what is the cause ? Is it not be- cause your faith is weak? — the nearer you keep to Christ, the more comfortable you are; let tliat basis be removed, and all is uncertain. I remember hearing an anecdote of a celebrated deist, whose mother had been accustomed once to read the Scriptures with pleasure, and derived some comlbrt from them ; but her son per- suaded her that they were a cunningly devised fable, and at the hour of death how great was her distress ! " My son," says she, " has robbed me of m}'^ consolation and support by taking away the liible ; but, with all his philosophy, he has not been able to substitute any thing else." Faith in the T^ord Jesus is the only cer- tain antidote against death. It is worthy of your ob- servation that many other systems have been tried, and under all systems some have repented, or perhaps have died under the influence of apathy and delusion ; but there is no single instance of any one individual dying in the faith of Christ, and saying, in his expiring moments, " I have trusted the Saviour, and built on this rock, and it has deceived me." " I know," said Paul, *' whom I have believed, and am persuaded he is able to keep thatwhichl have committed to him againstthat day." My friends, let me afl'ectionately recommend this Saviour to you ; he is worthy of your unbounded con- fidence, for he never deceived you, nor can he deceive you. He is worthy of your warmest aflection, for lie combines in his sa(n'ed person every moral excellence that can render him worthy of the regard of an intelli- gent being; and he has laid you under infinite obliga- tions to love him, and to devote yourselves to him. May we at the last day, yea, may we in the hour of death, be iom^d among the luunber of those who, resting on Clirisi, are enabled to triumph in the prospect of eternity. ON A FTTTIJRr STATE. 31 ON A FUTURE STATE. n Y T TI F. L ATE EDWARD H A R \V OOP, D. D. Lord, nine our iirarl.s (o praise and lovi', Our Icebli; iiol(>s in^jiiro, Till in lliy blissful conns above We join the angelic elioir. 1 Tiir.ss. iv. 14. — Tunmldnnl have you to he ignorant, brethren, concerning the?n who arc asleep, that you sorrojo not even as others who have no hope. The r^ospel was inteiulcd lo disperse all gloom from the human heart, and IVom human life. The religion of Jesus opens to the mourner, not ihchlacknrss of dark- ness and the friendless sliades of despair, liut the cheer- fulness of liope and the joyful prospect of immortality. The gospel of .lesus carries the believer's view beyond the present limited scene of things — draws aside the veil that o)ice intervened between time and eternity, and gives the mourner, in this world, sucli a glorious, triumphant, boundless view of the regions of immortality, as cannot but make him ashamed ol" indulging an immoderate sor- row for any earthly creature, how near and dear soever, when he shall so soon meet it in those blest abodes, and part no more. The Thessalonians, to whom St. Paul Avrites, had lost some of their Christian friends by death. The mourners, it seems, Avrote to the apostle, and, wliich is the first dictate of the heart upon such distressing occasions, when the mind is overwhelmed in grief and sorrow, desired tlie apostle to suggest some arguments to console them in this alllictive dispensation. What does the blessed apostle write in answer to this ? He delivers those words to tliem, which he repeats to us, and to all future ages, for their and our comfort and consolation in these mournful scenes : — / would not have you to he ignorant, brethren, concerning them that are uslefp, that you sorrov. not as others who have no hope : 62 OV A FUTURE STATK. for^ lie adds, if wc. Christians, hcHn-r that Jesus died and rose again, even so them, also, "wiio slf.kp in Jesus n-ill God bri))(r trith him. Your deceased friends, who have fallen asleep in .lesiis, and died in the helief, and prinriples, and hopes of his rclif^ion, are not lost ; tlieir sleepinjT dust, which you drencli witli your tears, will one day he inspired with new life — he collected to form a spiritual body — and he presented along with you in the presence of (lod with exceeding great and mutual joy to each other. Christians who live and die in the lull assurance of the evangelical doctrine of a glorious resurrection to eternal life, are not to sorrow as those vho hare no hope — are not to brood over a cheerless, despairing, melancholy prospect. This is both being ungrateful to Cod and unjust to their religion. The grand doctrine of their religion is a glorious and happy immortality. This is the disting'uishing glory of the Christian religion — the great first fundamental truth it was propagated in this M'orld to teach — the grand cap- ital principle with which it was designed to inspire its professors. That Christian, therefore, mIio docs not sufter this great and transporting truth to take the full possession of his soul, and to shed all that powerful influence upon his conduct and heart it was intended to have, is still to learn what it is to be a Christian — hath not yet felt the native power, and force, and eflicacy of the gospel's motives, and the gospel's first and primary design. The gospel does not ofier men, if they obey its rules, riches, and honours, and happiness in this world. Its rewards are all futnre. Thou shah be rcicarded, says om- JiOrd. How and when rewarded ? — rewarded with a uniform flow of tranquillity and peace, and domestic ease and happiness, in this world ; rewarded with every thing that is vulgarly pronounced the summit of human felicity — long life, heahh, and prosperity? With none of these things in this world as the recompense, reader, of thy obedience ; the Christian crown was never de- sigi^ed to be worn in this world — thou, shah be rewarded ON A FUTURE STATE. 63 at the resurrection of tlic just. Oil ! wliat a powerful argument is this glorious topic which the Christian reli- gion reveals and enforces, to moderate the greatest sor- rows we can be called to suffer in this world, and to calm and compose into tranquillity, and placid resigna- tion to a good God, the most distressed and melancholy- bosom ! Our deceased children and parents, friends and relations, are not lost to God and to immortality. It was not our friend we committed to the grave — we only consigned some frail and perishing appendages of his nature — ouv friend could not die — for the immaterial and immortal part was properly our friend — was prop- erly what we loved and delighted in, and hope one day to meet and embrace in a happier world. We Chris- tians close our eyes upon this world ; but we close them in hope. Only that v:hirh is imperfect, as the apostle speaks, is done awoy. The soul perishes not at death — doth not sutler one common extinction with our ashes ; it will live to God, to Jesus, and to happiness. The farewell we bid to life is not an eternal and everlasting adieu : we part with a temporary existence only to re- sume an eternal one. In this momentary state we are only in the infancy of our being, our knowledge, and our happiness. The scheme of Divine Providence toAvards us rational and immortal creatures is a vastly glorious and immensely grand and extensive one. The date of this most magnificent period commences in this world, but it reaches through a boundless duration. It is but a small, a very inconsiderable point of this most glorious plan which we in this world behold — when millions and millions of centuries and ages shall have rolled away, we shall be better judges of the greatness and grandeur of this incomprehensibly glorious scheme, w^hich the Di- vine Goodness from eternal ages contrived for the im- ]n-ovement and felicity of us his children. How indecent, then, how incongruous, how ungrateful, is inconsolable grief and disconsolate sorrow on a temporary loss, which we shall shortly regain with such infinite' advantage ! — rcgum ! oh, how improved ! oh, how iuefiably blessed ! 61 ON A lUTURL blAIi:. — and instead of con^M-alulalin/^^ them and ouibulvcb ihai they are most nicrcil'iilly disniir^sed lioni this ensnani)r» world, before they were corrupted willi its viecs — instead of joyful gratulations that they have exchanged death for life, mortality for immortality, time for eternity, trou- ble and distress for peace and Iranquillity, disease and pain for innnortal health, and case, and joy ; instead of pronouncing them happy, almost envyhig their ha]>pi- ness for having escaped the pollutions of this world, been strangers to its variety of misery and wretched- ness ; and in the youth and morjiing of life by a soil and no very great transition been metamorphosed into an- gels and radiant blessed seraphs ; instead of cheering and consoling our spirits with these delightful Christian views and prospects, to go mourning all our days ; to refuse to be comjurtcd because ihcy arc not ; to carry about with us a bosom heaving with incessant sorrows, a heart and spirit overwhelmed in the bitterness of de- spairing melancholy ; night and day brooding over a dreary, dismal prospect; our eyes raining ceaseless streams of bitter briny tears ; the sun a blank to us, mu- sic discord, innocent pleasure and cheerfulness madness and distraction ; not so resigned to God as we ought to be, and thinking hardly of the Divine dispensations to us. Not that our religion forbids a just and becoming ex- pression of our sorrows. Our religion doth not lay an embargo on any of those tender sensibilities of which our natures are formed susceptible. Neither our Divine rehgion nor the Author of it, either by precept or exam- ple, forbid our tears to flow or our hearts to feel a pang on the loss and departure of the objects of our fond affections. To drop a tear over the ashes of our de- parted friends is human, it is Christian. Jesus wept — slicd a shower of afl'ectionate tributary tears over the grave of his amiable departed friend Lazarus. A stoical apathy and insensibility is not a doctrine of the Christian religion. The gospel was not intended to extirpate our passions, but to moderate them. It would be cruel to interdict the heart those soft effusions which are the die- ON A FUTURE STATE. 05 tates of Our iiHUire, and which afibrd t>ucli rehcf and ease to a mind overwhehncd with griel". For deceased worth, for departed amiable virtue, it permits us to sor- row, ])rovided we do not sorrow as those ichohavc no hope. Inconsolable, hopeless sorrow it leaves to unenlightened heathens, who have not the principles and views of Chris- lians — have not their delightful transporting prospects to sooth and assuage their sorrows. 'I'hose who had no other glimpse of futurity but what the light of nature gave them ; those whose prevailing notion it was that death put an end to all our existence — diat life, and being, and happiness were all extinguished and vanished into air with our last breath — those Avho had these cheer- less uncomfortable views, as the heathens had, who had no hope of any thing better and further than the grave, might consistently with their principles indulge tlie high- est excesses of immoderate sorrow, and with disconso- late melancholy deplore the everlasting annihilation, and total, absolute, irrevocable extinction of the dear objects of their parental, fraternal, or filial tenderness — now for ever lost — to be seen and embraced no more — to be mingled with the common earth — reduced to their ori- ginal principles — never more to be reassembled — shar- ing one common undistinguished destiny with the brute creation. Jews and gentiles, who in tltcir religions en- joyed no clear and express discoveries of a future state, might on the death of amiable and beloved objects, as we lind from their history they did, rend their clothes, put on sackcloth, throw ashes over their heads, tear their hair, beat their bosoms, refuse all proper sustenance for several days and nights, pierce the air widi their cries and lamentations, use the most violent expressions of grief, and yield their hearts a prey to obstinate and sullen melancholy — they might commit these violences, who believed an utter annihilation at death, and conse- quently had every thing to fear from death ; but such extravagances and excesses as these are highly unbe- coming tiie virtuous professors of the gospel, who have every thing to hope from de-Alh, and avIio are taught to 66 ON A FUTUKE -ilAii:. beli<;vc (hat dcHlli is iiotliing more than tlic nicana of inlroducfion and admission to a new and nobler life. 1 eaimol luit ol)scrve llie lanj^magc which ilic Scripture applies to the decease of our friends. It is truly beau- tiful and consolatory. Iicouldnot have you to he ignv- ranty f/rcl/ircn, concerning them who are asleep: denotin«^ that the state of insensibility hilo which they are fallen by death is but a temporary repose, from M'hich they will wake in the morning of the resurrection. Their being is not annihilated — they are not hst* out of the creation — there is not a total and everlasting extinction of their existence — their vital and intellectual powers arc only for a few unperceived moments suspended — their sensi- bilities, and faculties, and capacities are only laid dor- mant for a momentary point of time in the grave, that they may recover and re-enjoy them with inlinite advan- tage and improvement in the eternal world of light, per- fection, and happiness. Our friend Lazarus sicejieth, says our Lord, speaking of his decease, but 1 go to awake him out of his sleep. The disciples thought, says the evangelist, that he meant the refreshing repose of sleep, and judged it a favourable prognostic of his recovery : Lord, if he slerpeth, he will du well; hovsever, Jesus spake of his death ; and the phrase by which he expressed his death is, upon the Christian scheme, ele- gant, just, and instructive. The same beautiful expres- sion of denoting death by skep the apostles used. Even so them, also, says St. Paul, who sleep in Jesus, will God bring with him. Awakening and awful are the words of our liOrd upon this subject, and it behooves the living to pay them a devout and most serious attention. Verily, verily, I say unto you, the hour is co7ning, and. now is, vjhen all that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the So7i of God, and shall come forth — come forth, not to enter upon a state of trial and jnobation any more — that is irrecoverably past ; but shall awake and come forth — those who have done i^ood in this Morld * J for. \v. 1!?. ON A lUTURE STATE. 67 I to eveihihliiig hlr; iliosc who have done evil, lo ever- lasting debtiuelioii. O, hles«ed diiy ! when wc shall meet onr deceased parents, our virtuous children, and all the wise and good whom we have known and read of in books, and embrace and congratulate each other M'ith tears of joy, if the blessed can weep, at being ush- ered into a life that will never know pain, and sorrow, and death ; and now all beginning a duration that will be commensurate with eternity, and last as long as God himself endures. We see, therefore, m the last place, the reason why, in the grief for friends deceased, in which the Thessalonian Christians were involved, the apostle tells them, tliat he icould not have them to bo ignorant of the joyl'ul prospects Christianity opened be- fore them, in order that by the power anil energy of these great and glorious truths, he might alleviate and assuage their sorrows, and prevent them from indulging grief and melancholy to an unjustifiable excess. The principles of the gospel allbrd the best antidote to grief. It gives us such elevated views of the glory and bless- edness of the eternal world as make us look down upon this fugitive introductory system with a great and noblo indiflerence. It exhibits to our mind the glorious reali- ties of the invisible world in such a strong and striking- light, as iniinitely diminishes the value of all terrestrial enjoyments, and causes us to prize nothing in this frail and transitory life as our chief good and ultimate felicity. I would not, therefore, have any Christian who reads these pages to be ignorant of this one great and ani- mating ti-ulh concerning the pious dead, abundantly suf- ficient to dissipate, at least to alleviate, his sorrows : that if we hclicvc, as ivc profess to do, that Jesus died and rose again, even so them, also, irho sleep in Jesus will God bring with him, and collect them into a happy, har- monious, and blessed society and assembly, to part no more, but to be mutually happy in each other througli eternal ages. Hear, then, the consolatory words of Jesus, and may Ciod dispose thee, reader, to receive all that comfort which his alicctionate valediction was 68 HAPPINESS OF GOOD MEN designed to impart ! Let not your heart he troubled: ye believe in Gu(U believe also in me. In my Fath€r''s house are many mansions ; if it trcrc not 60, / irould have told you. J go to prepare a place for you^ and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will conic again, and receive you to myself; that where J am, there you vmy be also. HAPPINESS UF GOOD MEN IN A FUTURE STATE. BY K AMU EL STANHOPE SMITH, D. D. "There all the millions of his saints Shall in one song unite ; And each the bliss of all shall share, With inrmile delight," Rev, xiv. 13. — That they may rest from their labours, and their ivor/is do follow them. 'V\ir. first subject of consiileralion ronccniing ilie future liappiness of good men suggested in the text is rest. The second is e»jo)/ment, — " their works do follow tliem." This figurative language evidently points to that higli and positive state of felicity which the saints shall enjoy in heaven, which is the consequence and reward of their works. It conveys to us also, in the mode of expression, two other truths of the highest import- ance ; — the first, that the habits of a holy life are ne- cessary to qualify men for the possession of heaven ; because M-ithout them they neither could desire it as their abode, nor could they enjoy the pure and spiritual pleasures that constitute to the pious the happiness of the place; — the second, that their rewards tliere shall be proportioned to the advances they have made in the divine life, and to the labours they have endured, the dangers they have cncouiuered, and the services they LN A FUTURE &1ATE. (jQ have i»uil6iiiu'il ibr the bciioiit, iind above all lor iho balvalion of inaiikiiul, uliich is the service of Jesus C'lirist, tiieir master aiul their Lord. On this subject the apostle l*aul liaUi taught us — "ho that sowelh si)arint»ly shall reap sparinnly, and he that soweth bountifully shall also reap bounli fully." i " There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars, and one star (lillereth from another in glory; so also shall it be ill the resurrection of the dead." The most pious, laidiful, and successful servants of Jesus Christ shall slnne with the highest lustre and enjoy the most con- summate happiness in his eternal kingdom. What an animating motive was this to the fortitude of the primi- tive martyrs ! What an illustrious, what a divine en- couragement is it to the duty of every believer in Christ ! If he does not reap his reward in this world, lie shall receive one proportionably more rich and glorious in the world to come ; where " the wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever." Let us, my brethren, remember, however, the great and fundamental doctrine laid by the apostles as llie foundation of our hopes, — that " it is not by icurks of righteousness which we have done, but by grace wc are saved." Those w'orks cannot Ije presented at the throne of divine justice as forming any absolute claim to the rewards of heaven ; but they become, by the gracious promise of God, the title of a believer to a re- compense that infinitely transcends any claim that can be grounded on the merit of human obedience. They follow him, not as a meritorious measure, but as mea- suring, so to speak, the infmite proportions of divine grace and of heavenly glory. The gradations of raidv, splendour, and felicity in the kingdom of heaven are but faintly and obscurely marked to us in Holy Scripture. It is more easy to impart to minds like ours some general apprehensions of the glory and perfection of the stale of heaven, than iiiccly to trace its degrees. A acalc of tliis kind 70 HAPPINESS OF GOOD MEN requires a knowledge of ilie sul)jcct more accurate and ju8t than our limited faculties are able to receive even iVom the holy spirit of inspiration. fSuch a scale was not necessary to the end for which this revelation w^as made to the divine St. .Tohn, Avhich was to encourage tlic martyrs in their mortal conlliets. 'J'heir cruel suf- ferings and their unshaken firmness would indeed pro- cure for them a higher rank in the order of the heavenly state than others should attain who had not been called to give the same heroic proofs of their fidelity to their liOrd. l>ut it is the expected gJori/ and fdicUy of that state that sustains the courage of a Christian, and enables him to triumpli over the most formidable pains of death. This felicity and glory is the subject chiefly pointed at in the text, and that to which, without entering into any representation that must at best be fanciful con- cerning the economy and the gradations of rank that may take place in the kingdom of God, I shall limit my view in the remaining part of this discourse. But how shall we describe that which eye hath not seen, nor car heard, and of which it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive? It would require the colours of heaven and a divine pencil to represent that celestial " city which hath no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it ; for the glory of the Lord doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. And the nations of them that are saved shall walk in the liglit of it, and there shall in nowise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie ; but they who are written in the Lamb's book of life.*' The improvements and the sublime perfection of human nature shall be correspondent to the glory of its habitation. But both, perhaps, are equally out of the reach of our conceptions at present. We must actually have attained, before we can fully comprehend, those immortal powers with which the body shall be raised from the grave, and reunited to the soul, purified and exalted by a nearer approach to God. '* It is raised," ts A rtTTimE statt:. 71 saith the apostle, " in inrorrnption — in glory — in power : it is raised a spiritual body." — Mark that bold and ex- traordinary fioure. It is allied in its essence to the immortal spirit — composed of the most pure and active principles of matter that resemble the purity and activity of the soul — incorruptible in its organization like the diamond — splendid in its appearance like the sun — rapid and powerful in its movements like the lightning, that bears in its course an image of the omnipotence of the Creator. 'i'he soul, purged from the dregs of sin, shall bear a higher resemblance of the perfection of God, in whose image it was first created. Its intellect shall be boimd- lessly enlarged — its affections shall be directed with immortal and unceasing ardour to the eternal source of love — and we have reason to believe that it shall enjoy the power of unlimited excursion info the works and, if I may speak so, into the essence of the Deity. On a subject of which it is so far beyond the present powers of the human mind adequately to conceive, it becomes us to speak with modesty and caution. In judging of it — reason affords no lights to guide us — the iires of the imagination will only mislead us — we must take our ideas solely from the Scriptures of truth. And when we collect together all that those sublime oracles of wisdom have said upon this subject, and take from the whole those general views which they give of the state and felicity of heaven, we may range them under the heads of its glory, its immutahility, and its ctcnnty. Its glory. — " It doth not, indeed, yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he shall appear M-e shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.'* There the redeemed shall dwell in the presence of God, who alone can fill the unlimited extent of their desires ; there they live in the dehghtful exercise of an eternal love, and in the full possession of all that can render them supremely blessed ; for, " in his presence is ful- ness of joy, and at his right-hand are pleasures for evermore." There they cease not celebrating iii songs of ecstasy 72 iiApriNTf^'s OP cool) men* the infjiiitn porfcctions of Ciod, and llie boundless riclir.s ol' ledoeniiiig lovr. — " Ilallcluiuh ! salvation, and glory, and lionour, and power unto tlie I^ord onr (lod." Woriliy is ihe Lamb that was " slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and jiononr, and glory, and blessing." 'J'here, according to the em- blematical language of the Revelations, they are seated on thrones, and receive from his hands celestial diadems ; for, saith the Spirit, "they shall rcignwhh him for ever and ever." If human nature, notwitiistanding all its present im- perfections, is destined to such improvement and felicity, iinich more is it reasonable to believe that the eternal liahitations of the pious, and the temple of the imme- diate presence of Cilod, are infinitely superior in splen- dour and glory to all that we now behold in the Rublimest or the most beautiful works of nature. Whc^i this veil of sense shall be withdrawn, what an imutter- able scene of wonders shall be disclosed ! Imagination cannot picture them — language cannot describe them ; Ave have no ])Owers at present capable of admitting or sustaining tlie view. Could we suppose a mole that grovels in the earth, enveloped in absolute darkness, and circumscribed to a few inches, to be endued with the powers of vision and reason, and suddenly admitted to contemplate witii the eye of (ialileo or the mind of Newton the splendours and boundless extent of the uni- verse, its ravishments, its transports, its ecstasies would afVord but a faint image of the raptures of the soul opening her immortal view on tlie glories of that celestial world. Ihit the glory of the heavenly state consists not only in the augmented powers of human nature and the ex- ternal magnificence that adorns it, but in the holy and devout, and — may I not add? — the benevolent and social pleasures that reign there. 'I'here "the pure in heart see Cod," — there they *' know even as also they are known," — there they love without sin him whom it was their supreme delight to conlemphiic niw] to love on earth. Sometimes the tS A FUTURE STATr. 73 hiiml^le and devout believer, in the communion of his soul with God, or in the eelcbration of the prec-ious mysteries of iiis grace in his temples here below, has enjoyed sucii discoveries of his infmite goodness and mercy as have been almost too powerful ibr the feeble frame of flesh and blood. — Ah ! wliat then will be the manifestations of heaven ! My beloved brediren, an Almighty power, a celestial regeneration will be neces- sary to enable you to sustain the unutterable bliss. I have ventured to mention also the social and benevo- lent pleasures of that state. And it will not, perhaps, be the smallest part of the felicity of pious souls to enter into the society, to participate the joys, and to re- ceive the congratulations of those perfect spirits v/ho have never fallen from their rectitude, and of the saints redeemed from among men, who have gone before them to take possession of their promised rest. " There is joy in heaven," sailh Christ, " over one sinner that re- pentfitli," — how much greater will be their joy when he lias escaped the dangers of the world, when he has no more cause of repentance, when he has kept the faith, when all his conflicts and temptations are finished, and he has arrived at the end of his course, where nothing shall ever be able again to shake the security of his state, or to impair the plenitude of his happiness? What higli enjoyment will it be to meet there his fellow- travellers through the dangerous pilgrimage of life, es- caped from its pollutions and its snares. To meet there witii " Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and all the j)rophots," with all the holy apostles and martyrs of Christ ! To meet there the friends who were most dear to him on eartli, whose souls were mhigled with liis ! To meet there his fellow Christians out of every denomination, — on whom, perhaps, he had been accus- tomed to look witli distrust and jealousy ! Nay, more, to meet there devout men like Cornelius from every na- tion under heaven ; and to see the grace of Cod in(i- nitcly more extended than those narrow limits which probably his prejudices had prescribed to it ! What inunortal consolations must fill the breasts of those who 7 D '5'4 haPpintrs or good ^tts " are come unto Mount Zion, unto the city of the livliij^ Cod, tlie lieiivcnly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels ; to the general assembly of the church of the first-horn, who are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect." The immutability of the happiness of heaven is another cliaracter of it that deserves our consideration. The power of God will place the redeemed beyond the influence of temptation and sin, and the perfection of the iieavenly state will for ever exempt them from all those causes of frailty and change that exist upon earth. It knows no change except that of continual progres- sion. The principal value of all our sources of enjoy- ment in this world is destroyed by iheir instability. Every object here is mutable, and disappoints those who expect permanent felicity from it, and pierces tJirnuofi xrilli many sorrows those who attempt to lean upon it. Even the comforts that flow from religion in the present life are variable and uncertain, because the sanctification of the believer is still partial and imper- fect. But in heaven, being perfectly holy, he shall be completely and immutably happy. Eternity is the idea that crowns and enriches the whole. "There shall be no more death," saith the amei}^ the faithful and true witness. The felicity of the saints, like the being of God, shall be interminable. — Glorious and consolatory truth ! I would willingly assist your minds to frame some measures of an im- juorlal existence, but how shall we measure a subject that so far surpasses our feeble conceptions ? Number the stars that lill the sky — reckon the sands upon the seashore — count the drops in the immeasurable ocean — ■ compute the atoms that compose the globe — multiply tliem by millions of years, and when this amazing suc- cession of duration shall have been finished, and re- peated as many times as are equal to its own units, eternity will be but beginning. Beginning ! — It cannot be said to be begun. It is wrong to apply any term wliich measures progression to that which has no period. IK A FUTURE STATE. 75 III this astonishing and boundless idea ihc mind is ovcrwhchned. AVhat a glory does it slied over the in- heritance of the saints in light ! How strongly is it calculated to awaken the desires of a believer after the rest that rcmaincth for the people of God ! I may add, how well is it fitted to console those who mourn over their friends who sleep in Jesus ! If, at any time, the mind is ready to sink under the weight of its sufferings in the present life, and to repine at the will of God, will it not become patient, and even thankful again, when it looks forward to that immortal blessedness to which every calamity that tends to crush this frail tene- ment of clay is only hastening our passage ? " For our light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen ; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal." Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord ! yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their tcorks do foUoin than. What a consolatory, what a sublime and glorious object is here presented to the faith and hope of good men, and confirmed by the faithful asseverations of the spirit of truth ! All the sufierings induced by sin in the present life there come to an everlasting period ; all the joys that human na- ture, exalted and improved with immortal powers, can sustain, shall be possessed by the redeemed, and shall continually increase in an endless progression. There you behold them in the midst of their heavenly country, from which they shall be no more exiled — there they contemplate without a veil, in the clear unclouded vision of heaven, the adorable perfections of God — they behold him enthroned in glory ineffable, whence he dispenses happiness to coimtless myriads of blessed spirits. Rivers of pleasure issue from the foot of the eternal throne — they bathe themselves in those pure and celestial streams — they are absorbed in ecstasies of a divine and immortal love. D2 70 HAPPINESS Of GOOD MEN. '■ My brethren, \vli;it an aniniHling motive to pnfcct Jwlincss in the fear of God is proposed to your faith in ihc bk^yseJ promise of hib and immortality. Wliat a, reward for ail the labours and self-denials of virtue ! — AVhat a eonsohition under all the alTlictions of life ! The happiness of heaven is essentially eonnected with ])urity of heart, with sanctity of manners, and with use- fulness of living ; and your progress in these divine qualitifNs shall be the measure of your eternal felicity. The path of perfect virtue, indeed, is laborious, and often passes in its course over steep and diflicult as- cents. Our passions frequently render extremely pain- ful the sacrifices which duty requires. We are obliged to coml)at with the world, its interests, its pleasures, its examples, its solicitations, and, still more, to maintain u constant conflict with ourselves. But contemplate the .sublime recompense which religion confers on these labours and these sacrifices, and they are arduous no longer. What are the enticements by which vice ivoidd ensnare the heart and withdraw it from virtue, compared Avith ihai fulness of joy that is in the jjrcscnre of God, and those rivers of pleasure that flow at iiis rigid-hand for evermore? What are the labours or dangers of duty, compared with its triumphant reward ? Endure hardness^ therefore, as good soldiers of Christ Jesus, remembering that these short conflicts shall, ere long, gain for you crowns of victory, and encircle you with immortal glory. Finally, this hope aflbrds a good man the best con- solation under ailliction. All the necessary evils of life will soon be ended, and will open to him a peaceful en- trance into the joy of his Lord. If disease and pain arc hastening his return to the dust, from which he was taken, M'hy should he repine, since they are at the same time bringing him to those living fountains of inunorlal health, where God shall wipu uwaif all tears from his eyes ? If the dearest ties of friendship or of love are broken asunder, and his heart is torn by cruel bereave- ments, religion enables him to find a sweet repose in Cod his best friend, and coudiicis his hopes to a speedy CONSOLATIONS rOR THE AFFLICTED. 77 and delightful reunion in the regionb of the blcsbcd with those pure and virtuous souls who were here most dear to his heart. In like manner, if poverty overwhehn him, or his fairest possessions have been blasted by tlie stroke of Divine Providence, are they not infinitely more than compensated in that heavenly inheritance to which, by divine grace, he is born ? And when death comes to dissolve the temporary and decaying tabernacle in which he had sojourned hi this barren wilderness, can he be dismayed, or yield to impious fears, when he sees beyond its flood the land of promised rest^ in which there is prepared for him a building of Godj an house nut made with hands, eternal in the heavens ? Blessed are the dead loho die in the Lord ! yea, saitk the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do foliate them. CONSOLATIONS FOR THE AFFLICTED UNDER THE LOSS OF FRIENDS. BY WILLIAM D D D, D. D. ''To those bright courts when hope ascends She cahDs the swelling wo ; In ho))e we meet our happy friends, And tears Ibrget to flow." From these considerations respecting God, we pro- ceed to such as regard our departed friends themselves. God, who gave them to us, hath been pleased to re- demand his own gift, and to take them away from us ! why should we not say, Blessed be the name of the Lord ! blessed be his name for vouchsafing them to us so long. lie had a property in them before we had any; they were his before they were ours ; now they aro liis eternally. And oil ! say, would you have your be- loved friends immortal here, only to please you ? would you have Uicm live, though weary of life, au4 §tay be^ 78 CONSOLATIONS FOR THE AFFLICTED low, tliou^h lonf^irifj to be p;onc? would you have tlieiii in misery, llioui^li lit lor happiness? would you have them kept amid the troubles of life, the pains of sick- ness, the iidirmilies of age ; or, at the very best, in the vain insipid repetition of the same round of things, only lo prevent a vacancy in your amusements and delights? Js this thy kindness to thy, friend ? Oh, surely, thou lovcst thyself more than thy friend, or thou wouldst rejoice that he is delivered from all the evils of mortality ! Besides, we know the irreversible condition of hu- manity. A parting time must come ; why then not this ? If tlie time of parting with our friends were left to our choice, it would greatly increase cur confusion ! Wc know that we enjoy our friends only upon a very frail and uncertain tenure ; why then should we not endeav- oin- to reconcile ourselves to that necessary separation, Avhich, indeed, is not the total loss, is not the utter ex- tinction of our friends. Blessed be God, Christ hath brought life and immortality to light ; and we are as- sured, that our dear friends do not cease from existing, they only exist in a diflcrent state and manner; a dif- ferent and a far more happy; — for, though absent from us, they are present with the liord ; entered into joy unspeakable and full of glory ! why then any immod- erate grief? it can neither be profitable to us nor to them ; it may do us much hurt, it can do them no good ; it may weaken our bodies and prejudice our health ; it may sadden our spirits, deprive us of the comforts, and indispose us for the duties of life ! and what advantage can there be derived from so costly a sacrifice to tlieir memory ? do they need, can they be pleased with our tears, mIio have for ever taken leave of weeping them- selves, and have such inllnite cause for joy ? (\)uld your cries call back llie departed spirit, and awaken the clay- cold body into life, — could you water the plant with tears till it revived, there might be some excuse for the abundance of your sorrow ; l)ut there are no Elijahs now, who may stretch themselves upon the breatliless corpse and bring back its departed boul. Wherefore ITNDER THE LO.SS OF FRIENDS. 79 should wc weep ? can loe bring them back again f — ice shall go to thcm^ but they shall not return to us. And can it bo, would you have them return ? do you lament tlieir fehcity ? are you grieved for their happi- ness ? would you wish to bring them back again ? would you wish to have your dear cliild, your aflectionate pa- rent, your laithliil consort, your valuable relation, now safely landed in the haven of eternal rest, would you wish to have them again placed on the uncertain shore of this life, and subjected to all its temptations and dif- ficulties ? would you have them walk over the precipice once more, tight the dangerous battle over again, again run the arduous race, be tempted, sin, and suffer again ? would you have them indeed return for your gratifica- tion, from that holy place to this place of sin, from joy to trouble, from rest and peace to new vexations ? their sentiments are diflerent, their affections raised and en- nobled, and as well as they loved us, they would not come back to us for all the universe ; and yet, as well as we loved diem, we cannot, for our unreasonable grief, wish them joy of their new elevation and dignity ! — Oh ! let us struggle against these unworthy appre- hensions, and congratulate ourselves, that we have al- ready friends dear as our own souls, friends for whom we could well have been content to die, that we have such already in the kingdom of God, and waiting to welcome us to that blessed and better country ! There is the joy, ihere is the grand source of conso- lation under the loss of friends, — we shall meet again ! They are delivered from their trial, while we are left behind a few weary years longer ; and behold, the time of our departure also comelli, when we shall ibllow our friends, and be for ever with them and with the Lord ! For ever ! comfortable trutii, never more to hang over the dying bed, to catch the last mournful farewell, to hear the sad, agonizing, heart-rending groan ! We shall meet, meet with an inexpressible reciprocation of en- dearing love and multiplied joy, to find ourselves all thus togedier, after our parting sorrows, — together, not ui the world of trial, trouble, and sin, but iii a |)laco 80 CONSOLATIONS FOR THE AFfLICTED. where all things and persons ih;it are anywise ofleii- sive shall bo totally removed ! No falseness or ran- cour, no partiality or mistake, no prejudice or infirmity, no malice or envy, no passion or pride shall ever dis- compose us there, nor aught be found to molest or hin- der the heavenly pleasure circulating through every happy heart, and dwelling upon every joyful face and thankful tongue ! Let us elevate our souls to that blissful meeting, let us reflect upon its unspeakable comforts, and we shall silence all our complaints, and have only one anxious concern, how to improve our own souls and to secure the Redeemer's favour, that we may not fail to meet, — to meet, and enjoy for ever, those whose loss we so sensibly feel, and so tenderly regret. And let us observe, that this is a most awakening motive to the cultivation of sincere and undissembled friendship, to activity in all its kind and endearing ofHces, to the valuing our beloved and Christian minds ; namely, to look beyond the nar- row limits of this world, and the short satisfactions of the present transitory scene, to that future, that glorious meeting, the exquisite raptures of M'hich the good heart jnay faintly conceive, but can never fully express. If we have any love for our friends, any tender desire to meet them again, this is one of the strongest arguments possible to incite us to a diligence in all the duties of our holy religion ; for what anguish can be conceived so great as to meet those friends agaiji, only to be con- demned by the Judge which hath blessed them, and to be luirried, for ever hurried from them into misery eternal ! — 8urcly, if we consider this, we shall be anxious to serve and honour our God, and so will the joy of our future meeting be certain and inexpressibly great. liook not, then, oh afllicted mourner, to the breathless body and the devouring grave ; hang not over die mel- ancholy contemplation, nor esteem thy valued friend as for ever lost to thee ; a day is coming, tlirice happy, glorious day, — oh speed it, (^od of inliiiitr love and goodness ; make us lit, and hasten that joyiul day ! — a day li coming y\\m\ thou shalt be set tree from JiU the fimiiT'.'^ ADDRESS TO THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 81 anguish of distrcssiful sorrow ; wlicii thy eyes, to weep no more, shall be closed on this world, and ihy soul shall ascend to the paradise of CJod ! There shall the; enraptured parents receive again their much-loved chiki ; there shall the child, with transport, meet a^ain those parents in joy, over whose graves, with lilial duty, he dropped die afl'ectionatc tears ; there shall the disconsolate M'idow cease her complaints ; and her orphans, orphans no more, shall telldie sad tale of their distress to the husband, the father; distress even pleasing to recollect, now that happiness is its result, and heaven its end ! — There shall the soft sympathies of endearing friendship be renewed; the ailectionate sisters shall congratulate each other, and faithful friends again shall mingle con- verse, interests, amities, and walk high in bliss with Cod himself; while all shall join in one triumphant ac- knowledgment of his wise and fatherly goodness, who from alJlictions deducetli good, who bringeth men to glory, tlirough much tribulation, and purifiedi them for his kingdom in the blood of the suflbring Lamb ! CHRIST'S ADDRESS TO THE WIDOW OF JNAIN. BV THE REV. JAIMES WHYTE. " Fond nature ! cease thy tears ; Religion points on high : Tlierc everlasting spring appears, And joys that cannot die." Luke vii. 13. — Weej) not. The affection of a mother towards lier child is pro- verbial. " Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her wonib ?" To her, the heart turns instinctively in the hour of calamity, and never turns in vain. She will bp alienated neither by misfortiiuc nor crime. She will D3 82 Christ's address hide the tear that moistens her check, lest it should seem to reproach the author of her woes. Even a fatlier's attacliment towards his babe is great. Witness tlie bitterness oi" spirit which dictates the ex- clamation ol" the aged patriarch Jacob : " INIe have ye bereaved of my children : Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and ye will take Benjamin away. All these things are against me." AVilness the agony of tlie monarch of Israel over the untimely death of a much loved, but profligate and rebellious son. " And the king was mucli moved, and went up to his chamber over the gate and wept ; and as he wept, thus he said, O my son Absalom ! My son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son !" Yet it is justly believed that a mother's love is still more ardent. Almighty God has graciously rendered her duty her blessing ; and reconciled her to innumer- able privations and toils, from which the father is daily exempted. To this she submits with the most cheerful alacrity, and will sacrifice — what will she not sacrilice for the comfort of her babe ? Though a family be numerous, it is the first wish of a parent's heart to see them spared : and it deeply wounds M'hen one of them is cut down, while they grow up as olives planted around the table. But a calamity such as this paragraph records has brought down many a parent's gray hairs with sorrow to the grave ; for the young man that was carried out was an only child — " the only son of his mother." When the afiections of the heart centre in one ob- ject they cling to it as their all. The loss of an only- begotten and well-beloved son is a calamity the most full of solemn and soul-subduing tenderness. It is one of tliose strokes which penetrate to tlie vital seat of happiness ; which blight the fairest prospects, and ex- cite ihe bitterest pangs which men endure in this world of wo. It was the lot of this femal(% however, to ex- perience this poignant anguish : " to mourn for an only son, to be in bitterness for a first-born." The calamity was greatly aggravated by her circum- TO Tirr: winoxr o? natn. 83 stances. " She was a widow." Possibly she had seen happier days ; lier prospects were fair and cloudless ; but they were soon overcast. Death entered with relentless purpose Avithin the pale of her domestic circle, and consigned her much-loved husband to the grave. Again and again had she visited the spot endeared by a thousand tender recollections. Again and again had she wept there, until the power of weeping no longer remained. Siie had a child, an only child. With the deepest solicitude she had watched over his infancy, and superintended the education of her orphan boy. She indulged the fond hope, that the house of her hus- band would be built up, and that his name would be revived and perpetuated in the person of his son. The beauties of his childhood, the opening talents of his youth, and his first efforts in business were all marked by her with exquisite delight. He grew up before iier the image of his father ; and with eyes glistening with tears of gratitude, she had looked upon him and said, " This shall be the companion of my widowhood, and the staf!" of my declining age ; when I am old and gray- headed, he shall sooth my sorrow, smooth my dying pillow, and close my eyes in death." The heart of^ her child responded to her wishes. He said, " I will be as a husband to my mother." INIy brethren, there is no security in human bliss. He died. His mother is now widowed and childless. He grew up fair and fresh as the gourd for the head of Jonah ; but God had prepared a worm tliat smote it, and it v.ithered. His youth struggled hard whh death, and his mother clung to hope wiiile there was a hope to cling to. Hour after hour, she sat watching his body as it hastened to decay ; that feeble frame, which in infancy she had nursed with all a mother's anxieties and fears. With indescribable emotions, she watched the hourly ravages of disease, as now another and another rose fades from his cheeks. It is when the weeping mother is looking for the last time on the countenance, now faded and wasting, that the heart drinks in all the bitterness of human wo. 84 CimiST's ADDRESS The current of life is fast ebbing away ; the eye that onco sparkled uitli vivacity is now covered with tlie fihii of death ; crc long its light shall be extinguished ; for a moment it briglitcns, — ^joy sparkles in it. — " AVclcome, death and glory; farewell, world of wo; farewell, mother, dear to my heart ; I go to my Father, and your Father — to my God, and your God. Living, I served you — dying, I leave you — and in eternity I will meet you. I die, but God will be with you." His tongue, about to become silent in death, faltered, while giving utterance to his last words ; a languid colour reddened his cheek ; as he gazed at her it grew dim- it fixed — it closed. The last breath is drawn — the last pulsation has beat — the spirit is gone. Those eyes, which erewhile gazed on his mother in fond aflection, are now sunk in their sockets ; the nerveless hand so closely locked in hers can no longer retain the alTec- tionate grasp ; that heart which syiupathized in all her joys antl griefs is now indilTerent alike to every fluctuation of fear and of hope. The distressed feelings of the widowed mother, who can describe? With emotions which cannot be uttered in words — with emotions which the heart only can re- cord, she looked upon the cold and feelingless remains of her son — her oidy son, whom she loved. — A few diiys before, she had seen him young, virtuous, and luippy. You who are parents will judge of her feli- city then. You who have been rendered childless will judge of her affliction now. She, who yesterday re- joiced in the accomplishments and caresses of her son, now " refuses to be comforted, because he is not." But words were never designed to express the agonies of a fond mother, who finds herself husbandless and child- less, in solitude and dreariness of domestic desolation. . My imagination pictures it to me — the trembling step and faded Ibrin of the bereaved mother, as she goes forth to lay in the grave her last child, and her last liope. The object of her affection has been removed from her sight, but cannot be torn from her heart. His excellence lives there, deeply chronicled in her bosom ; TO THE WIDOW OF NAIX. 85 and tlie tliought that she shall never see him more, touches every spruig of painful sensibility, and to her soul says unutteraljle things. " Oh that it were witli me as in months past, as in the days when God pre- served me ; when his candle shone upon my head, and when by his light I walked through darkness ; as I was in the days of my youth, when tlie secret of die Lord was upon my tabernacle ; when the Almighty was yet with me, and when my children were about me ; when I washed my steps witii butter, and the rock poured me out rivers of oil." "Call me not Naomi; call me Marah, for the TiOrd hath dealt very bitterly with me." The whole city had crowded spontaneously to min- gle their sighs with the widow's tears. They were conducting the lifeless body to its long home. At this moment tlie Friend of sinners met the funeral proces- sion. Amid the group of mourners, he knew that there was one bleeding heart, and he longed to bind it up. WiUi the tenderest sympathy, he approached the suf- ferer ; and in the kindest accents, said unto her, " Weep not." There was something about his manner which showed that he was a being of a purer world. Having aroused her from the stupor of grief, he touched the bier on which the dead was laid, and said, " Young man, I say unto thee, arise." At the sound of his al- mighty word, the body which was about to be consigned to the cold grave begins to glow with renewed ani- mation ; the blood again flows through the swelling veins ; the bosom heaves ; the heart beats ; the pale cheek warms with returning life ; and the eye, once clothed in death, opens, and instinctively fixes on his mother. To her bosom the Saviour restored him ; and how precious the unexpected present was can only be con- ceived by that mother who has seen all the blossoms of life fading and falling ; and who, after shedding tears of anguish over her only son, receives him " against hope," raised up from the very verge of the tomb. Nature, lately labouring under a load of sorrow, is now ready to sink under an excess of joy. fcJhe did 8 86 wisely in not attomptiiig to express her gratitude. At such a moment, lier heart must have been too full for utterance. 'J'here are certain situations which defy description — there are certain emotions, silence only can explain : and on the present occasion, how eloquent is silence ! Our Lord Jesus Christ is immutable. He retains the same compassionate feelings, now that he sits enthroned in glory, as when on earth he healed by a miracle the broken spirit of this forlorn widow. " He knoweih our frame, he remembercth that we are dust." " For we have not an high-priest who cannot he touched witli tlie feeling of our infirmities ; but was in all points tempted as we are ; yet without sin : that he might know to succour them that are tempted." In the second place, T would address these consoling words to those who are mourning the dissolution of Christian friends. In most cases, the ties of life are not dissolved with- out dying struggles on the one hand, and living agonies on the other. The tears of separation would soon dry up, could we indulge the pleasing hope that the friend of our bosom would soon be restored to our embrace. But this hope we dare not indulge : as the cloud is consumed, and vanishes away, so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more. He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more. The flowers, which wither at the approach of winter, put forth their leaves and blossoms in the spring. By the side of the blasted withered trunk we behold a new plant spring up from its roots, and flourishing under its protection ; but the ashes of the dead revive not with the dews, and showers, and influences of spring. There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground, yet througli the scent of water it will bud and bring forth boughs like a plant. But " mail diethj and wastelU uway ; yea, man giveth TO THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 87 up tlie ghost, and where is he ? As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up, so man lieth down and risetli not ; till the heavens be no more tliey sliall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep." No wonder, then, that the heart should bleed at every pore, when we tliink on the spot where their dust re- poses. It is a spot which allection consecrates, — it is a dwelling to which die heart goes down. In such a case, when all that was loved was lost, and all that was anticipated with so much dread is felt, the mind broods over all their excellence, and the thought that we shall never see them more wrings the soul with indescribable anguish. Yon know it — you who have closed the lifeless eyes of a husband, of a wife, or a child, and, in frantic agony, have clasped the lifeless form in a last embrace — you who have seen the tongue faltering in its last blessing and prayer, the eye fixed, and that sleep com- mencing which shall be broken only by the voice of the archangel and the trump of God. We may speculate, and argue, and convince ourselves and others that regret is unavailing; but still nature pleads ; feeling carries it over every other argument, and claims this period as lier own. My brethren, the religion of Jesus wars not with the pardonable infirmities of men. Joseph mourned with a great and very sore lamentation over the remains of his aged sin. Devout men carried out Stephen to be buried, and shed many tears over his bier. He, who was perfection itself, ennobled and vindicated those of Martha and Mary, by mingling his with theirs, over a brother's sepulchre, newly sealed. At the grave of Lazarus, Jesus wept. It is not grief, but immoderate grief that is forbidden. It is the sorrow of unbelief, distrust, and discontent. It is proper that we should mourn ; but it is criminal to repine. What Almighty God has planted he has an unquestionable right to destroy. Adore him that the boon was so long contituicd. JSay in resignation, with 88 chuist's address; Job, " Tho Lord gave, and the Lord Iiaih taken away ; blessed be the name of the liOrd." Immoderate sorrow injures the living, and cannot avail the dead. " Wiiilc the child was living," says David, *' I lasted and wept ; for I said, AVho can tell whether llie Lord may be graeions unto me, that the child should live? Ikit now that he is dead, wherefore should 1 last ? Can I bring him back again ? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." Believer, has the one nearest and dearest to your heart been consigned to corruption and dust 1 " Weep not." If she is dead in the Lord, your loss is her un- speakal)le gain. While you were bedewing the clay- cold form with tears, or accompanying it in silent an- guish to the mansions of the dead, the disembodied spirit has winged its way to the celestial world, and is now happy and blessed in the presence of its God. What a consoling and interesting thought is this ! It has exchanged a ruinous tabernacle for a house not made with hands ; the chamber of sickness for the re- gion of unfading health ; the cross for the crown of glory ; the groanings of corruption for the song of the redeemed before the throne : and this earth, with all its disasters and Avoes, for the beatitudes of heaven, and the rapturous enjoyment of the presence of God. And could you find it in your heart to wish them back ? Could you be so selfish, and so cruel ? Could you wish them back — back from the presence of the Lamb — back i'rom the sweets of glory to the bitterness of time — back from those rivers of pure pleasure which flow full and large at God's right-hand, to the streams of mingled enjoyment in this vale of sorrow ? After they have readied the haven of rest, would you recall them to struggle again with the storm ? Is there any thing in the state or employments of those who surround the throne, which you arc called upon to contemplate with sadness, or to deplore in the language of despair ? Is it any subject of regret to them that their sun went down while it was yet day ? They have exchanged their polluted garments for the TO THE WIDOW OF NAIK. 89 robes of spotless purity ; their eyes no longer flow down with tears ; their tongues no longer utter the language of complaint. They arc surrounded with cherubim and seraphim, and sing tlie song of Moses and the Lamb. The (hist indeed covers tiieir bochcs ; the worm feeds sweetly on them ; they arc mouldering and decaying. But God will yet redeem them from death, he will ran- som them from the power of the grave. " I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them that are asleep, that you sorrow not even as those who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, also, them that sleep in Jesus shall God bring with him." Even to those of you who cannot indulge the hope that your deceased friends are in heaven, I would say, " Weep not." Weep not for them, but weep for your- selves. Perhaps you never offered one prayer for their sal- vation. Perhaps you were accessory to their damna- tion. Perhaps your careless conversation led them into the broad road that leadeth to destruction. AVeep not for them ; weep for yourselves. Their destiny is fixed; your sorrow cannot reverse it. Even to the ungodly early death is a blessing. It is an act of mercy, as well as of justice. It precludes the possibility of in- dulging longer in sin, and this prevents the possibility of a deeper immersion in the gulf of endless wo. The longer an unconverted sinner lives, the greater mass of wretchedness does he accumulate against the day of wrath. Yes, he may well envy through eternity the babe that was carried out to the grave from ils mother's womb ; and well load with bitter execrations a day which commenced an existence which he camiot terminate, and which his own folly has rendered irre- mediably miserable. I hasten to address the words, in the last place, to tliose saints of God who are alarmed at the prospect of their own dissolution. There are some of God's children in whose frame there is one chord which cannot be touched, however 00 ghhist's adduess to the widow of Na1N\ liijjlitly, without producing despondency and gloom, 'riie idea of deatli Ir.iunts ihein like a spectre, and fdls them with mdcscriljable horror. 'J'hcy can look beyond it with dehght. It is lovely to descry the lieavenly hills, and the multitudes of the redeemed walking in white with the Lamb on Zion ; but the ter- rors of the passage, the darkness and corruption of the grave, are prospects terribly revolting to their imagina- tions, and they are kept in bondage through its fear. Believer in Jesus, " Weep not ;" the day of thy deatli shall be infinitely better to you than the day of your birth. Let the consolation which the gospel presents dissipate all your fears. It opens a vista through the gloom of death, and pours a full field of light on the darluiess of the grave. It tells us that Jesus " liveih, and was dead, and is alive for evermore, and hath the keys of hell and death." " Forasmuch as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself like- wise took part of the same, that through death he might destroy him that had the power of deatli, that is, the devil : and deliver them, who, through fear of death, were all their lifetime subject to bondage." The ocean spreads wide and dark before you ; but it will waft you to Emmanuel's happy shore. " There thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself." This delightful prospect has made Ihe dying saint sing upon his death-bed, when his friends around him were lamenting. This has made him lift up his head with joy, because the day of his redemp- tion drew near. "When this corruption shall put on incorruption, and this mortal shall put on immortality, tlicn shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory." Indeed, many who were exceedingly dispirited at the prospect of dissolution have triumphed gloriously amid its final agonies. Jehovah reserves dying grace for a dying hour. " My grace shall be suiTicient for thee, and my strength shall be made perfect in thy weakness." As tiie river rolls the smoother the nearer it ap- proaches the ocean, and as the rose smells sweetest jtist when it begins to decay, so, at the believer's de- ON TUE DEATH or DK. RY1.AND. 91 pariurc,his graces shine willi llic most resplcudtnt liijs- tre. Thus have wc seen ihc sun, at I he close of a dark tempestuous day, bursting lorlli in all liis radiance, sinking beneath tlie horizon in unclouded splendour, ai)j)earing at the moment most lovely and glorious. Trust in the Lord, disconsolate believer ; " At the evening time there shall !)e light." " Wait on the Lord, be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart : Avait, I say, on the Lord." ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. DR. RYL.\ND. BY THE REV. U B E R T HALL, A.M. •ToHN xxi. 7. — That disciple wliom Jesus loved. By the removal of a minister of Christ so able, so disinterested, so devoted, yon have sustained a loss, the magnitude of which it is difficult to appreciate, much more to repair. A successor you may easily procure ; but where will yon find one who will so " naturally care for your state V who, " instant in season and out of season," is willing to impart to you, not only the gos- pel, but his own soul also, because ye are dear unto him ?" You may hear the same truths from other lips, supported by illustrations and arguments equally clear and cogent; the same duties inculcated by similar motives ; but where will you find them enforced and recommended by an example equally elevated, an aficc- tion equally tender ? AVhere will you look for another, whose whole hfe is a luminous commentary on his doc- trine, and M'ho can invite you to no heights of piety, but what you arc conscious he has hhnself attained ? When you add to this the efiect of a residence among you of above thirty years, during which he became the confidential friend of your parents, the guide of your youth, and after witnessing the removal of one genera- 92 ON THE DEATH OF tion to a l)Cttcr world, was the honoured instrument of raising up another in their room ; when you reflect on the continued emanations of wisdom and piety which proceeded for so long a space from this burning and shining liglit, you must be convinced that your loss is irreparable. The removal of such a pastor, of one whose labours you have so long enjoyed, is an epoch in the history of a church ; it is an event which no living generation can w^itness more than once ; and it surely calls upon you to consider what improvement you have made of such advantages, and what is the prospect that awaits you, in the final day of account, when you and your pastor shall meet once more in the presence of the Judge ; he to give an account of his ministry, you of its effect on your character. In relation to him, the event is not doubtful : " He has finished his course ; he has kept the faith ; henceforth there remains for him a crown of righteousness, which Christ the righteous Judge will give on that day." Would to God the issue were equally certain and equally happy on the part of those who so long enjoyed the benefit of such a ministry ! That such will be the issue with respect to many who compose this auditory we cannot doubt ; and with what inconceivable joy will he witness tlie felicity which awaits them, while he presents them before the throne, saying, " Here am I, and the children which thou hast given me." With what delight will they renew the in- tercourse which death had interrupted, and retrace to- gether the steps of their mysterious pilgrimages ; while the gratitude they will experience towards him who was instrumental in conducting them thither will be only inferior to that which they M'ill feel to God and the Lamb. How trivial will every other distinction then appear, compared to the honour of haA'ing turned many to righteousness ; of having sown that seed which shall be reaped in life everlasting. A large portion of this felicity will, we cannot doubt, accrue to your pastor, frpm those who are accustomed to assemble within thesQ Till; KEV. DU. UVLAND. 93 walls ; but bliould it in any instance bo olhc rwihc,' should the event be oi' a conlraiy nature, he " will be a svvcct-snielling savour to (lod, even in them that j)erisli.'" His happiness will be unimpaired, his reward undi- minished, and the feelings wilh which he was wont to contemplate such a catastrophe will give place to sen- timents of a higher order. The tears which he wept over souls in danger of perishing will be shed no more ; all his agitation and anxiety on tlieir account M'ill be laid to rest ; nor will they who rel'used to constitute his joy by their conversion be suHcred to mar his felicity by their destruction. It is not the church and congregation only, over which he presided with so much honour, that feels itself inter- ested in this event. The sensation which it has pro- duced is widely extended, and has reached every part of this great and populous city ; a city sufficiently en- lightened to comprehend his worth, and to mourn his loss. When a Keynolds, whose mimilicence flowed in a thousand channels, and whose example gave a new impulse to the public mind, quitted the scene which he had so long adorned with his presence and enriched whh his bount}', that a general sensation should be ex- cited is no more than might be expected. But that the removal of a Christian minister, who possessed none of these advantages, should produce a regret so uni- versal and so deep, is a pleasing homage to the majesty of religion ; a practical demonstration of the power it exerts over the consciences of men. If blessings are bestowed, and judgments averted, in answer to prayer, as the Scripture everywhere teaches, and the eflicacy of prayer is proportioned to the fervour of faith and the perfection of obedience, it is impossible to say how much the inhabitants of this place may be indelDted to our excellent friend, by whose removal they have lost a powerful intercessor with God. By an extensive circle of ministers and churches, who shared his friendship, and on various occasions enjoyed his labours, his loss will be deeply lamented, and not without reason; for though the faithfid dis- D4 ON THE DEATH OF peiisers of evangelical instruction may now be reckoned by thousands, liow few are left who can sustain a com- parison with him, in all the qualities which adorn the gospel, and give the possessor power with God. If the mere conception of the reunion of good men in a future state infused a momentary rapture into the mind of Tully, — if an airy speculation, for there is rea- son to fear it had little hold on his convictions, could inspire him with such delight, v.hat may we be expected to feel who are assured of such an event by the true sayings of God ? How should we rejoice in the pros- pect, the certainty rather, of spending a blissful eter- nity with those whom we loved on earth ; of seeing them emerge from the ruins of the tomb, and the deeper ruins of the fall, not only uninjured, but rehned and perfected, " with every tear wiped from their eyes," standing before the throne of God and the liamb, '* in M'hite robes, and palms in their hands, crying with a loud voice. Salvation to God, that sittelh upon the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever and ever." What delight will it afford to renew the sweet counsel we have taken together, to recount the toils of combat, and the labour of the way, and to approach, not the house, but the throne of God, in company, in order to join in the symphonies of heavenly voices, and lose ourselves amid the splendours and fruitions of the beatific vision. To that state all the pious on earth are tending ; and if there is a law from whose operation none are ex- empt, which irresistibly conveys their bodies to dark- ness and to dust, there is another, not less certain or less powerful, which conducts their spirits to the abodes of bliss, to the bosom of their Father and their God. 'J'he wheels of nature are not made to roll backward ; every thing presses on towards eternity ; from the birth of time an impetuous current has set in, which bears all the sons of men towards that interminable ocean. Meanwhile, heaven is attracting to itself whatever is congenial to its nature, is enriching itself by the spoils of earth, and collecting within its capacious bosom THE ^F.v. Dn. hyland. D5 whatever is j3urc, prrmaiiont, and divine ; leaving nothing for the last fire to consmno but the objects and the slaves of conciipiscenoe ; Avhile every thing which grace has prepared and beautified shall be gathered and selected from the ruins of the world, to adorn that eter- nal city, "which hath no need of the sun, neither of tlie moon, to shine in it ; for the glory of God doth enlighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof." Let us obey ilie voice that calls us thither ; let us seek the things that are above, and no longer cleave to a world which must shortly perish, and which we must sliortly quit, while we neglect to prepare for that in wliich we are invited to dwell for ever. Let us follow in the track those holy men, who, together witli your beloved and faithful pastor, have taught us by their voice, and en- couraged us by their example, " that, laying aside every weight, and the sin that most easily besets us, we may run with patience the race that is set before us." While every thing within us and around us reminds us of the approach of death, and concurs to teach us that this is not our rest, let us hasten our preparations for another world, and earnestly implore that grace which alone can put an end to that fatal war which our desires have too long waged with our destiny. When these shall move in the same direction, and that which the will of Heaven renders unavoidable shall become our choice, all things will be ours; life will be divested of its vanity, and death of its terrors. "Seeing then that all these things shall be dissolved, what manner of persons ought we then to be in all holy conversation and godli- ness, looking for and hasting to the coming of the day of God, wherein the heavens, being on fire, shall be dissolved, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat. Nevertheless, we, according to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth, in which dwelleth right* eousness." 90 TO MOTTRKERS. TO MOURNERS. BY THE REV. JOHN FLAVEL. Then let our hearts repine no more That earthly comfort dies,— But lasting happiness explore, And ask it from the skies. Luke vii. 13. — And when the Lord saw her^ he had compas- sion on her, and said unto her, Weep not. Duly to regulate and limit our sorrows is a high Cliristian attainment. So long as we are subjected to atniction, we shall be exposed to sin. If prosperity has its peculiar snares, so has adversity. The text exhibits an instance of sorrow which ex cited the compassion of our Saviour, and which he, at the same time, tenderly represses. The circumstances of the case are strikingly described in the context. Noio when hi came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a. dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a icidov. Every circumstance was piercing to tlie heart. It was the death of a son. To bury any child is grievous to an affectionate parent. But a son is expected to continue the name, and support the family. To bury a son, therefore, is usually esteemed peculiarly af- flictive. This son was a young man. Had he died in infancy, before aflection was riveted, or expectation raised, the affliction had been less pungent. But death seized liim in his flower and prime ; at the very age which rendered him capable of realizing to a fond mother the hopes of many years, and of rewarding her for a thou- sand cares and labours. Further ; he was the only son of his mother. All her afiections, hopes, and comforts centred in this one oliject. If to part with one child out of many is^ af- flictive, what is it to lose all in one? 'Vo complete the aflliciion, the bereaved mother'was HOW FAR GRIEF MAY BE INDULGED. 07 a tcidow. Ill this condition, not only devoid of comlort, but exposed to oppression and to contempt, her stud", her sohice, her saleguard, was at once removed. She had no liusband to say to her, as Elkanah to Hannah — " Wiiy is tliy heart grieved ? Am not I more to thee than ten sons ?" Her grief was not a sohtary grief; and the last calamity at once revived and aggravated the former. Observe the treatment which this weeping widow re- ceived from Jesus Cln-ist. He met her at the gate of the city, not accidentally, but with the express design to work a miracle of mercy for her relief. There he saw hei-, and he had compas- sion on her. Surely her griefs were not few, nor small, l^ut greater still, and more multiplied were the compas- sions they excited in the heart of Jesus. Christians, your Redeemer is now exalted to heaven, and you sec him not. But his eye is ever on you. Nor is he less sensibly touched with the infirmities and griefs of his people than when he tabernacled in flesh. Observe particularly the counsel given to this discon- solate widow, by him who " comforteth those who mourn." — " Weep not.'''' This is not an absolute pro- liibition of sorrow nor of tears. Christ does not con- demn all expressions of grief for deceased friends as sinful. He would not have his people insensible. But he prohibits the excess and extravagance of their sor- row. He would not have them mourn for the dead like heathen, — who know not the consoling doctrine of the resurrection. The resurrection of her son from the dead was the great instrument of comlort to the mourning widow. Well might the Saviour say " Weep not," when he in- tended so soon to remove the cause of her tears. The case was peculiar and extraordinary. Mourners may not now expect to receive back their deceased friends. Such miraculous interpositions, with their oc- casion, have ceased. Tiie onuiipotence and divinity of ibe Saviour have long since received the most ample U- E &8 to MOrRNT.RS. confirmation. Yet even now, the survivinf^ friends of those who have died in the Lord have the strongest grounds of consohition. Our principal relief and comfort in tlie death of friends is drawn from the general resurrection. Thence the apostle derives it: 1 Thess. iv. 17, 18.— We shall see and enjoy our pious friends again at the coming of the Lord. Surely this is more than if we should now re- eeive them immediately from the dead. Our Saviour's counsel to this mourner applies then to Christian mourners at large ; and it furnishes us this important instruction : — that Christians ought to mode- rate their sorrow for their deceased relatives, whatever afflictive circumstances may attend their death. What I propose is, — to exhibit the signs of immode- rate sorrow — to dissuade from its indulgence — to refute its pleas — and to point out its remedy. I. In exhibiting the signs of immoderate sorrow, I will first state how far grief may he indulged. Thus we shall more easily see when it becomes excessive and sinful. 1. The afflicted must be indulged in an awakeyied and tender sense of God's afflicting hand. To bear what we do not feel is no virtue. Not to tremble when God smites is most unbecoming. To make light of his cor- rections is awful stupidity. For this the afflicted are rebuked. Jer. v. 3. — "Thou hast stricken them, but they have not grieved." When God smote Job in his person, his children, and estate, he rent his mantle and prostrated himself in the dust. This showed that he was not insensible. But he blessed an afflicting God. This showed that he was not stubborn and unsub- missive. 2. The afflicted must be allowed, within due limita- tion, to complain loth to God and man. It more be- comes a Christian ingenuously to open his sorrows, than sullenly to smother them. There is no sin in complaining to God, though there is much in complain- ing of him. The griefs of the heart are frequently re- lieved bv utterance. This was David's resort,-—*'! HOW FAR GRIEF MAY BE INDULGED. «9 poured out my complaint before liim : I sliowcd before him my trouble." — Ps. cxlii. 2. To whom should children go to make their moan but to their father? — Whence may they expect relief and comfort but from him ? Happy were it might every afflicted soul make this experiment. Did we complain more to God, he would complain less of us, and quickly send relief. O how moving, how prevalent is it with God, when his poor burdened people fly to him in their distress. When deep calls to deep, when one wave urges on another, then let the distressed soul address to the throne of heaven such language as this ; — " Father, what shall I do ? My soul is bowed down with trouble. Thou liast multiplied my sorrows. I have neither outward comfort nor inward peace. Wherever I look for relief I am disappointed. O Lord, I am oppressed ; under- take for me. Fathers of the flesh pity their distressed children when they complain to ihem ; and wilt not thou, O liord, have pity, whose compassion as far ex- ceeds the compassion of creatures as the sea exceeds a drop? O, my Father! pity me, support me, deliver me !" — Such appeals are acceptable to God, and advan- tageous to the soul. W^e may also make our complaint to man. Job did so : — " Have pity upon me," says he, " have pity upon me, O ye my friends ; for the hand of God hath touched me." It is a great mercy if we have friends who are wise, faithful, and experienced. They are born for such a time as this. Prov. xvii. 17. Still, they cannot pity as God ; nor relieve and succour as he. Often we may say Avith Job (chap. xxi. 4) — "As for me, is my complaint to man ? And if it were, why should not my spirit be troubled ?" What great advantage in these complaints ? I may burden the heart of my friend ; but 1 get little ease for my own. Yet the opening of the heart to an experienced tender Christian is some relief; and to engage his prayers is still more important. 3. The subject of atfliction may ordinarily jw^/g-e aj\d cnndimn Imnsrif as the guilti^ procurer of his oicn troit- hies. Karelv does a great ailliction befall a good man, E 2 100 TO MOURNERS. but he saw, or might have seen, the need of such a rod before lie felt it. Has God smitten your cliild, or friend, and mijj;lit you not have anticipated the btroke ? Were you not in such a carnal frame as to need the rousing, purifying influence of aflliction? But whether you anticipated the trial or not, it is now your duty to examine yourself. "Let us search and try our ways," says the afflicted church. In the day of trouble, a gracious soul is inquisitive about nothing more than the cause of the Divine irowns. " Show me wherefore tiiou contcnde.st with me?" Lord, what is the particular corruption which this rod is designed to rebuke ? For what sinful neglect would it humble me ? O discover it to me, and reclaim me from it. Having discovered the cause of their trouble, sincere souls will take shame to themselves, and give glory to God by humble submission, and by vindicating the equity of the Divine conduct. " I have sinned ; what shall I do unto thee, O thou Preserver of men?" " Holy men," says one, " after their hearts are renewed by repentance, are not ashamed to remember and con- fess their faults, to the glory of God ; for they account not that glory as lost which is transferred from them- selves to their Maker." ' It is true, God may afflict in sovereignty ; or siinply for our trial. Ikit we may always see in ourselves cause enough for the affliction ; and it is safe to charge it to our own sinful folly. 4. The afflicted Christian may earnestly, though liumhhj and suhinissivcly, plead fur relief. When af- fliction presses us above our strength, — when it disables us for duty, or gives advantage to the tempter, we may adopt the prayer of David, — " Remove thy stroke from me." Even Christ, in the day of his trouble, poured out his soul with strong cries and many tears, saying, *' Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me." Oppressed nature desires relief; and even our renewed nature seeks exemption from those encumbrances which retard us in duty, or expose us to sin. U'HEN SORROW BECOMES EXCESSIVE. 101 Thus far mourners may indulge their grief. But sorrow becomes excessive and sinful, 1. When it causes us to disregard remaining mercies and enjoyments. Oi'ten the setting of one comfort ob- scures and benights all the rest. Our tears for enjoy- ments lost blind us to the many mercies which remain. But this is very sinful. It involves ignorance, ingrati- tude, and great provocation. It is a sin springing from ignorance. Did we know the desert of our sin, we should rather wonder that one mercy is left, than that many are withdrawn. Did we know that sovereign Being at whose command our comforts come and depart, and who can in a moment destroy all which remain, and ourselves with them, we should more highly value the mercies which he spares, and be more thankful for them. Did we know the case of thousands, perhaps far better than ourselves, who in all their lives never knew such enjoyments as we still possess and yet overlook, we could not think thus lightly of our mercies. And what vile ingratitude is this ! — Are all your re- maining mercies worth nothing? You have buried a child, a friend, — but still you have a husband, a wife, other children, and friends. If you have not, you have comfortable accommodations, and health to enjoy them. Or, if not thus favoured, you have the ordinances of God, and, it may be, an interest in Christ and in the covenant, the pardon of sin, and hopes of glory. And can you sink into despondence, as if all your mercies, comforts, and hopes in both worlds were buried in one grave ? Must Jchahod be written upon your best mer- cies, because mortality is written upon one ? In a word, such a temper tends to j)rovoke the Holy One to proceed in judgment till he has made a full end of your comforts. What if God should in just anger withdraw those undeserved, disregarded favours which you still possess ? What if he should commission death to smite a husband, a wife, or children, yet left ? AVhat if he should send sickness, losses, poverty, re- 8* 102 10 MOUllNERb. proach ? Il, indeed, you arc out of Chri&t, you are in (lan^rer ol" what is far more dreadful than all this. AVhat if (iod should say, "Dost thou undervalue my goodness and forbearance ? Is it nothing that 1 have spared thee thus long in thy sins and rebellion V And Avhat if he should stretch out his hand and cut the thread Avhich has kept thee for so many years from droppmg into endless misery ? O think how dangerous it is to provoke the liOrd by ingratitude, when he has already come out in judgment. Even if you arc in tlic number of his own people, of those who will finally be saved, you know you have belter mercies to lose than any you have yet lost. Should it please God to cloud your soul with doubts, should he let loose Satan to buffet you, and should he remove all inward peace and joy, you would soon be convinced that the funeral, even of your dearest friend, was comparatively a small thing. 2. Our sorrows are sinful when they so entirely ah- sorb our minds that we are insensible to the calamities which afflict the church and j^cople of God. Some Christians have such a public spirit, that the troubles of the church swallow up their personal afflictions. Mclancthon was so much oppressed by the calamities of the church, that he took comparatively little notice of the death of a most beloved child. Eli manifested a j^racious and public spirit, when he received the intel- ligence that Israel had fled before the Philistines, that his two sons were dead, and that the ark of God was taken. Had the message stopped at the death of his sons, he might have supported the burden. But at the mention of the ark of God, even before the narration was finished, he presaged the issue, and immediately sunk down and died. The loss of the ark was more to him than that of sons and daughters. But how rare, in this selfish generation, is such a public spirit, even among professors of religion. May we not complain with the apostle (Phil. ii. 21), "All seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ's." Few extend their cares beyond the sphere of their pri- WHEN SORROW BELUi>ll..S liXCKSSIVE. 103 v;ilo iiUcrcsls. And ihc sorroivs of most arc not less conlincd al home. If a cliikl die, wc arc ready to die willi it ; but public calamities aillict us little. How lew arc there who lose either their domestic comforts in the churcli's troubles, or their domestic troubles in tlie church's mercies. Now M'hen it is thus, — when M'c little regard the mercies or suHcrings of others, but are wholly absorbed by our own afflictions, our sorrow is sinful. 3. Our sorrows are excessive and sinful when they divert us from our duties^ or distract us in tlicm. How prone are we to indulge solitary and protracted musinos concerning a departed friend ! yet how hard to fix our tlioughts on the living God ! When our hearts should he in heaven with our Saviour, diey arc in the grave with our dead. May not many alflicted souls justly complain that their troubles have taken away their Saviour (I mean in regard to sensible communion), and placed the lifeless child in his room? Ah, cease to weep longer for your deceased relation, and weep rather for your dead heart. Is tliis your compliance with the design of your alHicting God ? — Will you be- come more a stranger to him than before ? Is this the way to comfort, — to refrain prayer, and turn your back on God ? Or if you dare not wholly neglect the duty, yet your affliction mars your success. Your heart is wandering and distracted in prayer and meditation, so that it aflbrds you neither comfort nor relief. O ('hristian ! consider this is not right. Surely the rod operates not kindly now. Did your love to God expire when your friend expired? Is your heart as cold in duty as his body in the grave ? O banish this temper without delay, lest you find by sad experience that wliat you now mourn is inconsiderable, compared with what you will mourn hereafter. To lose the spirituality and warmtli of your aflections is much more than to lose the wife of your bosom, or the loveliest child that ever a fond parent laid in the grave. Reader, if this be your case, you may challenge the first place among moumcrs, It were better for you to 104 TO MOURNERS. bury ten sons than remit one degree of love to God, or delight in him. His end in smiting was to bring your heart nearer to liim, by removing what estranged it. Will you thwart this merciful design? tSurely the troubles which accompany you to the closet, and mar its duties, arc extravagant and sinful. Tlie case is the same, 4. When your sorrows so oppress and sink your ani- mal frame as to endanger life, or unfit you for active duties. " Worldly sorrow works death ;" that is, the sorrow of worldly men, sorrow merely natural and carnal, and not relieved by spiritual reasonings and considerations. This sorrow is sometimes so oppres- sive that the body sinks under its weight, and diseases are induced which are never removed. Excessive grief has ever been considered by physicians one of the principal causes by which human life is shortened. Its subjects have no mercy on their own frames ; for while ihey indulge without restraint in the enervating luxury of grief, they frequently deny themselves the comfort of sleep, and other necessary refreshments. This is very sinful, and highly displeasing to God. In his great mercy he would not have us " swallowed up with overmuch sorrow," even though that sorrow be for sin. — 2 Cor. ii. 7. How much more would he have us restrain our griefs for temporal losses ! Indeed, are there not other and better purposes to which our Iiealth and energies may be devoted ? May not the time come when we shall earnestly wish we had that strength to spend for God which we now prodigally and unavailingly waste upon our troubles ? i 5. Our affliction is sinful when it sours the spirit, and excites i/nvard murmurings against God. What- ever God does with us or ours, we should maintain lionourable thoughts of him. A gracious heart cleaves closer to God in affliction, and justifies him in his severest strokes. " I know, O Lord, that thy judgments are right" (such is its language), " and tliat in faithful' liess thou hast afflicted me." In this way the soul may (obtain comfortable evid.ence of its own uprightness, WHEN SORROW 13LC0MES liXCESSlVE: 105 " '1 o luiv(j iiflcctioniitc llioiighis of CJod when he .smites us ill our dt-diTst coniforls argues that wc love him lor himself, ami not for his gifts only. It argues tliat his interest in the heart is deeper than any earthly interest. And the comfort which some have derived from such (Hscoveries of their own hearts in severe allliciion has boon so great, that they would not part with it to have all their lost blessings restored. But to swell with secret discontent, and indulge hard thouglits of (lod, as though he had treated us with in- justice or with unparalleled severity, is a vile temper ; evil fruit from the evil root of a carnal, ignorant, proud heart, — at least, from a heart much distempered, if ever renewed. Thus it was with Jonah, when God smote his gourd. " 1 do well," said he, " to be angry, even unto death." This was not his ordinary frame, but a surprise ; the ellect of a paroxysm of temptation, and of passions overheated. Few dare utter such language. But many have their hearts imbittered by discontent, and secret risings against the Lord. This\ if ever their eyes are opened, will cost them more pain than they ever felt from the affliction which occasioned it. 6. Our sorrows exceed due bounds when we volun- iarili/ excite and exasperate them. It is strange that we should find pleasure in stimulating our grief into exer- cise. Yet there is truth in the remark of Seneca, that sorrow itself has a kind of delight attending it. The Jews who came to Mary's house to comfort her, " when they saw that she went out hastily, followed her, say- ing. She goeth to the grave, to weep there ;" — " as those do," says Calvin, "who seek to provoke their troubles by going to the grave, or often looking upon the dead." Thus wc delight to look upon the relics of our de- ceased friends, and often to mention what they have done or said ; and this not so much for the purpose of instruction or imitation, but rather to draw fresh blood from our wounds by piercing ourselves anew. INIany parents will converse for hours on the features, actions, and remarks of their deceased diildren, wccpuig at the e;3 106 TO MOURNERS. rccitcil, and llius causelessly keeping open tlie wound for montlis after its infliction, and excruciating their hearts "witliout benefit. Perhaps a lock of hair, or sometliing similar, is preserved, the sight of which may daily renew their grief. J am far from recommending an inhuman forgetful- iiess of our dear departed relatives. It is as reprehen- sible as this childish unprofitable remembrance. Oh, friends ! we have other things to do in affliction than these. Were it not better to search our hearts and houses when God's rod is upon us, and study how to answer its designs by mortifying and putting away the sins which provoked it ? Surely, till we are thus employed, afiliction has not accomplished its end. 7. Our sorrows are sinful when they shut our ears CQ:ainst seasonahlc instructions and consolations. Thus "Rachel wept for her children, and refused to be com- forted, because they were not." So pertinacious are many in the indulgence of grief, that no counsel, no comfort can find its way to their minds. Some display *a perverse ingenuity in evading every argument of com- fort. Even if driven from every plea, they are still im- 'moveably fixed in their grief. Every consolation ad- ministered is disregarded or forgotten. Their feelings are those of the Psalmist (Ps. Ixxvii. 2), "My soul refused to be comforted." To want comfort in the time of trouble aggravates affliction. But to refuse it when offered is sin. The time may come when, however welcome a word of sup- port might be, it will be denied. It is a great mercy to the afflicted to have with them a Barnabas^ an Intcr- jireter^ one among a thousand. And it is their great sin and folly to spill like water on the ground those cordials which are presented them. Say not with those desponding souls (Lam. iii. 18), " Oiu" hope is perished from the Lord; remembering our affliction and ^nisery, the wormwood and the gall." It is sad indeed that a Christian should be so disgusted with the worm- wood and gall of affliction as to be unable to relish the jjweetuess to be found in Christ and the promises. DISSUASIVES FROM tXCESSIVE SORROW. l07 Thus, having pointed out the sin and danger of mourners, I am, 11. To dissuade tliem from these forbidden excesses, and to inculcate a temperance in tlieir sorrow. I know liow (lifhcult is tlie task to silence grief, and allay the tumult of passion. The very attempt some- limes causes it to rage and swell the more. The work is the Lord's. Its success depends entirely on his power and blessing. He who says to the stormy ocean "Be still," can compose the tumults of the atHicted bosom. Sorrow goes its destined round, and visits all charac- ters without distinction. The righteous and the wicked pass in their turn under the rod. I am a debtor to both ; and shall endeavour to afford to both support and assist- ance. Surely the unregenerate need our compassion and aid. Their affections to their relatives, though irregular, are strong and tender. Their bereavements are felt with pungent emotions ; nor must they be left to sink under their sorrows. We cannot, indeed, directly offer them those reviving ."ordials which are found in Christ and in the covenant for God's afflicted people. They have no interest in Christ, nor in the promises. If this be your case who read these lines, — afflicted and unsanctifled ; mourning bitterly for deceased friends, and having more cause to mourn for a dead soul ; Chrisdess and graceless, as well as childless or friendless, full of trouble, yet with- out faith or prayer to ease your heart, — alas ! your case is sad ; yet do not wholly sink, nor suffer yourself to be swallowed up of grief. You have laid your beloved in the grave, yet do not precipitate yourself into the grave after him. This will be no remedy for your grief. Be entreated to ponder these three things : — 1. Of all persons in the world, you have most reason to be tender of life and health, and careful to preserve them ; for if your troubles destroy you, you are eternally lost — undone for ever. World/// sorrow works death. And if it works your death, it work« your perdition too. If a believer dies, the second death has no power over liim. But wo to you, if death overtakes vou in your 108 TO MOimNETlS. 'sins. Bewarn ihon whm you do af^ainst health and life. Be caiuious of breaking that tliread by wliichyou hano- over endless burnings. It is better to be childless or friendless on earth, than hopeless or remediless in hell. 2. Acknowledge and admire the distinguishing good- ness of God to you, that when death was commissioned to smite one in the family, you were passed by. Your Imsband, wife, or child is taken, and you are left. Had your name been in the commission, vou had now been beyond the reach of hope But Ob, the sparing mercy, tlie wonderful long-sufler- ing of God to you ! Perhaps the relative you have lost never provoked God as you have done. Your departed child may never have abused such mercies or neglected such calls as you, nor treasured up the thousandth part of your guilt. Astonishhig patience of God ! You are warned, but not smitten. Is there notliing in this which claims thankful acknowledgment? Is it not better to mourn on earth, than to mourn in the regions of despair ? Is it not easier to go to the grave of a deceased friend, and weep there, than to be banished where there is weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth for ever ? _ 3. This affliction, whicli seems so grievous, may- prove your greatest, richest mercy. God has now made your heart soft icith trouhlc. lie has show^n you ]iow vain is this world, and how poor the sources to which you looked for happiness. A dark cloud over- shadows all yoiu' earthly comforts. Shoidd the Lord graciously interpose, and by this affliction open your eyes to your own deplorable state, and divorce your heart for ever from a vain, unsatisfying world, and bring you to choose Christ, the only real and permanent good, for your portion, what an unspeakable mercy ! Sliould ^your affliction imbitter sin; should the death of your 'friend turn your attention inward upon your soul ; a soul as cold to God and things spiritual as a dead body, and more loathsome to Infinite Purity ; surely this would be a happier day than you have yet seen. {Such is sometimes the merciful method of Heaven. DISSUASIVES FROM EXCESSIVE SORROM'. 109 " If they be bound in fetters, and holden in oovds of aftlirlion, then ho showeth them their work, and their transgressions, that they have exceeded ; he openetli also their ear to discipHiie, and connnandeth that lliey return from inic|iiity." Job xxxvi. 8, 9, 10. Consider, pensive mourner, tliat wliieh stole your heart from God is gone. 'I'hat which engrossed your time and thoughts, and left no room for Christ and eter- nal realities, is gone. All your high-raised expectations from that beloved object which now moulders in dust are perished in a day. What a motive, what an advan- tage^ to raise your thoughts to heaven ! Should a bless- ing attend the rod, this day of sadness will occasion you many a day of thanksgiving. Be entreated to consider these things. Other conso- lations I may not directly oft'er you. Alas ! the best of consolations are those which your spiritual condition excludes. They belong to the people of Cod. They spring from that religion to which you are a stranger. Yet while I turn from you to Christians, and point out those richer comforts M'hich belong to them, it is proper that the subject should be seriously considered by you. You will thus be convinced how privileged, how happy are the children of God, amid their greatest outward trials. You will perceive what is that peace which they may enjoy amid all the tribulations of the world. Such I may attempt to counsel and comfort, with animated hopes of success. You fear the Lord. You tremble at his word. To you the greatest affliction is not so formidable as the least sin. You would rather bury all your children than provoke and grieve your heavenly Father. Your relatives are dear, but Chrih^t is far dearer. Retire then to your closets ; redeem a little time from sorrow ; and implore the blesshig of God on the following considerations. Consideration 1. The Author of your affliction i^ God. It therefore becomes you nitehly to submit. " Be still, and know that I am God." The single thought that the Lord has done it should silence every objec- 10 no TO MOURNERS. tion. " Why (lost thou strive against Iiim? forhegiveth not account of any of his matters." For a creature to quarrel with the God who made iiim is shocking. May not he who formed you and yours dispose of both as he sees best ? May he not do what he will with liis own ? 8ay then with Eli, " It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good." Bow to the holy sovereignty of that God, who does his pleasure among the armies of heaven and the inhabitants of earth. Turn your eyes away from your affliction, to the perfect and un- erring Author. Consider who he is, and what you are. Pursue the contemplation, till you can say from the heart, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." Consideration 2. Tlie comforts of ichich you are de- priced lucre not your principal comforts. Children and other relatives are common blessings, bestowed pro- miscuously on the friends of God and his enemies. Indeed, the wicked have often, in these respects, the advantage of the pious. It is a mistake to consider our happiness as necessarily connected with these created enjoyments. We may be happy without them. Our dearest relatives are not our chief good. They may all fail us, and yet our souls be both safe and comfort- able. And as God hath better comforts for his people than these, he can send greater afflictions than the loss of tliem. Had he spared your children, and indulged you with outward prosperity, and at the same time in- ilicted spiritual judgments on your souls, how much more mournful had been your condition ! Remember, it was not the Saviour's design to purchase for you a sensual happiness, a life of earthly comforts, but to rc- d{!cm you from all iniquity, to sanctify your natures, to wean your hearts from this vain world, and so to order your lot, that finding no rest on earth, you might sigh and pant for that rest which remains to the people of God. And are not afflictions excellently calculated to promote this gracious design ? Is it not a mercy to be 'c them behind than to follow them. Consideration 6. A parting time must come ; and may not t/iis be the best ? You knew beforehand that your child was mortal, and that the tic which bound you together must be severed. Wlrat did you receive at his birth, but a mortal being ? And are you surprised to see a mortal being yield to death ? — " He who com- plains," says Seneca, " that one is dead, complains that he was a man." To be human is to be mortal. Whatever inequalities attend our lives, the great statute law of heaven makes all equal at last. " It is appointed to men once to die." Perhaps you think that tliis is the least favourable time for parting ; and that had you enjoyed your friends longer, you might more easily have resigned them. But how are you deceived in this ! The longer the period of enjoyment, the more strongly are the aflec- tions riveted, and the more painful is the separating stroke. Happy is it for us, and for ours, that our times are in God's hands, not in our own. Those who are in Cliriiit, and ia the covenant, cannot die unseasonably. 10^ 114 10 MOURNERS. 'i'liough cropped in the blossom, or ihc bud, tliey arc still ripo (or iiimiortal glory. As their death was most seasonable to them, so was it likewise to you. Had they lived longer, not only would your increased aflcction have rendered parting more diflicult, but you might have seen such displays of corruption as would have filled you with perplexity and distress respecting their state. Surely, the Lord's lime is best. In nothing do we more discover our iblly than in wishing to determine the season of our comforts and our troubles. Of the one, we arc prone to think they can never come too soon ; of the other, that they cannot come too late. But let us commit both the one and the other to Him whose works are all per- fect, and all beautiful in their season. Consideration 7. In this day of trouble^ recollect your covenant ivith God., and the solemn engagements you made xehcn you took him for your God. Think of that period, when a heavier load of grief pressed upon your heart than now ; when the burden of sin, the curse of the law, with the dread of death and hell, sunk you almost into desjiair. What was your language then ? Was it not this ? " Lord, give me Christ, and deny me whatever else thou pleasest. Pardon me, save me, and I will never repine. Do what thou wilt with me ; let me be friendless, childless, poor, any thing but Christless, graceless, and hopeless." And when God heard your cry, and showed you mercy, — when he constrained you to submit to Christ, and to the terms of the covenant, was not this your language to your Saviour? — " Lord Jesus, here am I, a guilty, wretched sinner. Fear and trouble on the one liand ; on the other, a just God, a condenniingla\v, and everlasting burnings. But oh, blessed be (iod for the interposition of a Mediator ! TJiou art my only hope ; thy blood, my only remedy. 'I'hou hast said, ' Come unto me, all yc that labour and are heavy laden, and 1 will give you rest.' Thou hast promised, ' Him that comcth to me I will in nowise cast out.' Thus en- couraged, blessed Jesus, I come to thee. I come WSSUASIVES FROM EXCESSIVE SORROW. 115 doubtinj^, trembling, yet willing, cind make a covenant with thee this day. I take thee, this day, as my J^ord, and submit to all thy disposals. Do wliat thou wilt with me, or mine. Let me be rich or poor, any thing or nothing in this world, as thou plcasest. This day 1 likewise give mysell" to thee. All I am, all I have, shall be thine ; thine to serve thee, thine to be disposed of at tliy pleasure. Thou hencelbrth art my sovereign Lord, my last end, my portion, my all." Now then, Christian, luUil your solemn engagements. Christ has disposed ol'your dear relative as he ])leased ; and thus he tries your uprightness in covenanting with him. Where then is your promised contentment with his disposals ? Where your covenanted submission to his will? Did you except the present allliction ? Did you say, " Lord, I consent that thou shalt take, when thou pleasest, any thing I have, save only my husband, my wife, or this dear child ? This I reserve. I can never part with this." — If so, all you did was hypocrisy. If you were sincere, you had no reserves. You gave your Saviour all. And will you now conduct as though you repented, at least had forgoticn^ your engagements ? Has Christ failed on his part ? Can you charge him with the smallest instance of unfaithfulness ? Oh ! if you cannot, see that you too be faithful. Consideration 8. £n addition to your cove?iant with Gody call to mind his covenant ivith you. Is your family, which was lately in peace and prosperity, broken up and scattered ? Have those dear objects to which you looked as the solace of your declining years, and your memorial in a future age, taken their fliglii ? Do you, in cheerless solhude, and with many tears, peruse the words of Job? — " O that I were as in months past, as in the day when God preserved me ! — As I \vas in the days of my youth, when the secret of God Avas upon my tabernacle, when the Almighty was yet with me, when my children were about me." 8till, in this desolate condition, be comforted with the covenant which God has made with you. David was ailhcted, not only in the death of children, but stili 116 TO MOURNERS. more, in tlic Avicked lives of children. Incest, murder, arid rebellion in his family combined to pierce his heart. Yet what sweet comfort does he derive from the cove- nant of grace ! "Although," says he, " my house be not so with God, yet he hath made with me an ever- lasting covenant, ordered in all things, and sure ; for this is all my salvation, and all my desire ; although he make it not to grow." The covenant made with him by God comforted him, although his house did not increase, and altliough those who remained were not such as he desired. So should all who are interested in the covenant be comforted, in every family bereave- ment and alHiction. For, 1. If you are God's covenant people, though he may afflict, he will never forget you. " He is ever mindful of his covenant." You are as much oji his heart in your deepest affliction as in your highest prosperity. You find it hard to forget your child, though turned to corruption. Day and night your thoughts dwell upon it, untired. But surely it is easier for you to forget, I -will not saj^ a child departed, and mouldering in the dust, but the most endeared child you have alive, than for your God to forget you. " Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her w'omb V Can such a monster be found ? Possibly there may. " Yet," saith God to every be- liever, " I will not forget thee." His covenant is ever- lasting. 2. He will direct all your troubles to your good. It is a wcll-ordcrcd covenant. It so disposes all your trials, tliat they shall conspire to make \'ou hapjiy. Possibly you cannot see how the present allliction should be for your good. You may be ready to say with Jacob, " Joseph is not, and Simeon is not ; and will ye take Benjamin away ? All these things are against me." But believe it, your affliction is the re- sult of covenant love and faithfulness. It shall certainly issue in your eternal benefit. You have therefore rea- son to be not merely resigned, but thankful. 3. Tliis coveuaut is not only well ordered in all DISSITASIVLS l-ROM EXCESSlVJi SOnilOW. 117 things, but sure. You fonclly dreamed that you neie sure of the creature coinlbrt which has forsakrn you. Ferliaps you said ol" your cliild, now gone, as Jianucli of liis : "This same shall comfort us." 13u(, you sec, you built on the sand. And wliere were you now, had you not a firmer foundation for your hope and comlbrl ? He thankful that covenant mercies are more sure and lasting. Of your God, of your Saviour, and of heaven none can deprive you. No created enjoyment can say to you, as God says, " I will never leave thee, nor lor- sake thee." The dearest husband must be parted with. The most beloved wife must be resigned. From your children, who are as your own soul, you must be sepa- rated. Yet, blessed be God ! there is sometliing that abides. " All flesh is as grass, and its goodliness as the flower of the fleld. But the word of our God shall stand for ever." — There is so much of support com- prised in this single consideration, that could but your faith iix upon it, and realize it, and apply it, I might at once lay down my pen, and consider my work as accomplished. Consideration 9. The excesses of our grief should he restrained hy the hope of the resurrection. Let those mourn without measure who mourn without hope. The husbandman does not mourn when he casts his seed into the ground. He expects to receive it again, and more. The same hope have we, respecting our iriends who have died in faith. " I would not have you ignorant," says Paul, " concerning them who are asleej), that ye sorrow not as others who have no hope ; for if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also who sleep in Jesus will God bring with him." He seems to say, "Look not on the dead as lost. They are not annihilated. Lideed, they are not dead. They only sleep ; and they sleep to awake again." You do not lament over your children, or friends, while slumbering on their beds. Consider death as a longer sleep, from which they shall certainly awake. Even a heathen philosopher could say that he en- joyed his friends expecting to part with them; and 118 TO MOURNERS. parted with tlicm expecting to receive them a^;iin. And shall a heathen excel a Christian in bearing atHic- tion with cheerfulness ? — If you have a well-grounded hope that your deceased friend was interested in Christ, ponder, I entreat you, the precious supports aflbrded by the doctrine of the Resurrection. 1. The same hody^ \vhich was so pleasant to your eyes, shall be restored. " My eyes shall behold him," says Job, " and not another.'" The same body which you commit to the grave, shall be restored at the resur- rection. Yes, mourning believer, you shall again jnect the beloved form of the husband, the wife, the child, the friend, whom you now lament. 2. You shall know them to be the same objects, which were once so dear. You will love them, indeed, not as now, but with a purer and more enlarged affec- tion. Yet among the immense multitude, you will be able to distinguish your parent, husband, wife, or child ; and to say. This was the one for whom I wept and prayed ; to whose spiritual good I was instrumental, or who was an instrument of salvation to me. The apostle Paul comforts himself with the thought that the Thessalonians whom he had converted to Christ, would be his "joy and crown of rejoicing in the pres- ence of the Lord Jesus Christ at his coming." This implies, that in the great day he Vv'ould have a distinct knowledge of them. Indeed, reason and Scripture bid us believe that Mhatever knowledge tends to perfect our nature, or increase our felicity, will be found in the heavenly state. 3. We shall find our pious friends in heaven un- speakably more lovely and desirable than ever beibre. Here they had their intirmities, natural and moral. In heaven, these \v\\\ be for ever unknown. No natural infirmities will attend their glorified bodies ; no sin their perfected spirits. O how lovely will their very bodies appear, when that which is sown in dishonour shall be raised in glory. 4. You will never part with them again. " The children of the resurrection can die no more," Never l)issTTASivEs rnoM ExcEssn'i: sorrow. 119 more will you kiss the pale lips of your Clnistiau friends, nor fear another agonizing separation ; but, to- gether with them, you will be icith the Lord fur ever. What bail:: does this dechu-ation of the apostle distil into the bleeding heart of friendship ! Well might he add, Comlbrt one another with these words. Consideration 10. All who die in Christ have an im?nfdiaie admission to heavenly glory. Some have de- parted in the Hvely exercise of faith and hope, and left the most satisfying evidence of their interest in Christ. Even had they died in silence, the general and known tenor of their lives would have been ample testimony in their favour. The work of Divine grace is begun in the hearts of some at a very early period of life. Many, -when making a public profession of thf?ir faith in Christ, have referred to the religious instructions of the nurseiy as deeply aflecting their minds, and, as they hoped, blessed by the Holy Spirit, to their conversion. Even " Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings," God can " per- fect praise." Parents who have evidence that their children died in the Lord have reason to rejoice in view of their departure. Surely there is no Christian who would not rejoice to see his child outstrip him in grace. Why should we not rejoice as much to have our children arrive first at glory ? Shall we mourn that they are gone to heaven before us ? Might they not say to us, in such a case, as Christ to his dejected disciples: "If ye loved me, ye would rejoic«?, because I go to tjie Father." We profess much love to our children and friends ; and if this love be pure and spiritual, can we grieve when they take leave of sin and sorrow, and go to a Fatlier's house ? Though we want their company, they want not ours. Christ has provided for them infinitely better than we could have done. O parents ! think what an honour to you, that Christ should take your children from your bosom, and put them in his own ! 'J'hat he should strip them of the garments of yo\u- own providing, and cloijie them with 120 TO MOURNERS. white robes, washed in his own blood ! That he sliould make you instruments to lurnish heirs for th(! lieavenly inheritance, and replenish tiie mansions of everlasting light! Your child may be now glorifying God in a higiier style tlian you can ; and will you accotmt that a loss to you which brings additional glory to God ? AVhen Jacob heard that his favourite son was lord of Egypt, he rather wished himself with Joseph, than Joseph with him. And you, who are now tossing on a tumultuous sea, while your friend is in port, have more reason to wish yourself with him, than him with vou. Consideration 11. All dissatisfaction and rfpini'ng tinder the rod is utterly fruitless and vain. The bul- lock, by wrestling jmd resistance, does but gall his neck, and render the yoke more painful. Be not like a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke. Excessive sorrow may break our sleep, or our hearts ; but it can profit us nothing. David's conduct at the death of his child was at once rational and pious. " Now he is dead," said he, " wherefore should I fast ? Can I bring him back again V While God's purpose is unknown to us, there is room for fasting and prayer. But when it is mani- fest in the event, it is the extreme of folly to vex our spirits, as David's servants expected he would do, when informed of the death of the child. But though with many tears he had deprecated the allliction, yet when it came, " Wherefore," said he, " should I fast ?" He felr, what every mourner should feel, that he could no more alter the purpose and providence of God, than he could change the seasons, or arrest the sun in its course. liCt us not then waste our spirits and strength in a fruit- less indulgence of grief. Consideration 12. If you meekly submit to the rod, the Lord may restore your lost comforts. You have no reason to exclaim, with Esau, " Hast thou but one blessing, my father ?" Your Father has many blessings to bestow. He is the Father of mercies. He can cre- ate as many mercies for you as Jie pleases. A few months or years since, the comforts whose loss you DISSUASIVE^ FROM EXCESSIVE SORROW. 121 now lament were not in existence ; nor did you know Avlience tliey should come to you. lUit God sj)oke ilie word, and they were yours. And surely, he who gave is able to replace them, and more. But as you would liope for sucli mercy, beware that you do not dishonour and displease him by impatience. (iod removed all .fob's children by a single stroke ; and many circumstances combined to aggravate the aflliction. Yet from the Divine hand he meekly re- <'eived, and patiently bore it. " Ye have heard," says an apostle, " of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord." — " The Lord gave .Tob twice as much as he had before." The number of his children^ in- deed, was not doubled, as his other (comforts were. Yet perhaps his comfort in this regard was doubled.* Notliing was ever lost by a quiet submission to the will of God. It is as easy for God to revive as to extinguish our enjoyments. " Thou wilt light my candle," says David ; " the Lord my God will enlighten my dark- ness." Every comfort we enjoy is a candle, lighted by a kind Providence to cheer us in the path of life. These candles M'ill not always last. Those which en- dure longest will soon be wasted. Often, before they are half consumed, they are suddenly extinguished, and we are left in darkness. But let us remember, with David, that he who extinguishes our candle can light it up again. The Lord can banish our troubles, and renew our comforts. — Hannah waited on God for the blessing of children ; and she was graciously remem- bered. We can lose no comfort, but God can restore it, and double it, if he sees best. Consideration 13. Though God should deny you such comforts as you have lost, he can bcstoio blessings incom- parably greater. " I will give them," says Jehovah, " a name better than of sons and of daughters. I will * Some suppose tliat Job's roceiving only tho same number of children 83 formerly, while his oilier comforts were doubled in number, was designed to inlim:ite to him lliat his first children were not extinct, but only removed 10 another world. In iliig view, thvir number was doublvd too. 11 F 122 TO MOURNERS. give them an everlasting name, that shall not be cut off." To be a child of God is a source of greater honour and comfort than ever a parent enjoyed in the best and most beloved of children. Yes, dejected mourner, bereft as you seem of all joy, you have no reason for despondence. Oh that you realized what blessings God has to bestow on tliose who submissively wait on him in their affliction ! He has consolations far transcending the joy of children. 80 others have found. An eminently pious man, liav- ing lost an only son, retired for some hours to his closet, and then came forth with such a cheerful coun- tenance, that all who saw him were filled with surprise. Being asked an explanation of this, he replied, that he had enjoyed, in his retirement, that which, if renewed, might well reconcile him to part with a son every day. Oh, how great the disproportion between the light of God's countenance, and the best, the sweetest of cre- ated enjoyments ! Sometimes God mercifully prepares his people for peculiar trials, by granting them previously some re- markable manifestations of his love. The writer of this knew a most amiable woman, who for several days before the death of her husband was so favoured with the presence of God, and the assurances of his love, that when the stroke came she was scarcely sensible of it ; so entirely was she transported above every thing earthly. Yet her attachment was of the tenderest kind, as well as the object every way worthy ; and she herself believed, that but for these extraordinary sup- ports, she must have sunk under the burden of grief. A husband, a wife, or child is a dear object. But what is a husband, a wife, or child, compared with the all-sufficient and everlasting God ? And how know you but he has withdrawn your earthly comforts, to prepare the way for heavenly blessings? He may have re- moved your child, that he may make room for the more abundant commimication of khnscJf and his love to your souls. mSSUASlVES FROM EXCESSIVE SORROW. 123 Consideration 14. Bif indidglnor excessive gnrfyoti ffive advantage to the adversary. All extremes are (hm- Trerous ; and there is an extreme of (lejeclion, wlurh invites the assaults of tlic tempter. That lallen spirit, equally cruel and cowardly, attacks the people ot bocl when tliey are oppressed and sunk. He wished the Most Hi you, as of Ephraim, " He is joined to idols : let him alone." Uow much better to be chastened than to be cast ofl' for ever. Plea 10. "I hoped to have left to my beloved chil- dren the fruits of my cares and toils. But I am dis- appointed : and all my worldly possessions can aflord me no comfort." Ansirer. Many of j'our acquaijitance are destitute both of children and wealth. If, though deprived of one, you are hidulged the other, you have far greater reason for gratitude than for discontent. Consider, too, though ijou have no children, God has many children in the world, whom your wealth may comfort and refresh. And doubtless your charity to them will turn to greater account, than leaving a great estate to your posterity. Surely we were not sent into this world to amass great estates for our children. If you have too eagerly pur- sued this object, your folly is justly rebuked, liless (lod that you have yet an opportunity to honour him eminently vnth yoiir suhslancc. And since other ex- ecutors are denied, let your own hands distribute to the necessities of the saints. So shall the blessing of those who are ready to perish come upon you. ■ Plea 11.' "The pleasant words and actions of my departed child are constantly recurring to memor}', and wonndiii'f my heart anew." 1?. 134 TO MOURNERS. Answer. That you were blessed wilh so desirable a child claims your gratitude. How many parents have been afflicted with children destitute of reason and com- mon sense ! How many children, through a perverse temper, have been the vexation and torment of those who gave them birth ! Besides, the circumstances mentioned, though engaging, are in themselves of small importance. Yet to you they will prove serious evils, if instrumental of depressing or imbittcring your spirit. At this serious moment, greater things claim your attention. You ought to be engaged in inquiring for the design of your afflictions, in mortifying the sins which liave procured them, and in subjecting your heart to the Divine will. Plea 12. "I am not only afflicted, but deserted. In the time of my trouble, the Lord has hidden his face from me." A7isiDer. You may want sensible comfort, and still have his gracious supports. The light of God's coun- tenance may be withdrawn, yet the everlasting arms may be underneath you. Nor is it an unusual tiling for God to hide his face at such a time. Tliis lias been the experience, not only of his dearest saints, but of his beloved Son, who, at a period when most of all he wanted his Father's presence, was constrained to ex- claim, in agony of soul, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me f ' Inquire, likewise, may not your want of submission provoke God to hide his face? This is but too probable. The comforting Spirit can- not rest in that bosom which is the seat of unsubdued and tumultuous passions. AVould you enjoy his cheer- ing smiles ? Meekly receive and drink the cup which your heavenly Father has mingled. Accept the punish- ment of your iniquity. Say from the heart, and with unaffected submission, " The liOrd gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." IV. I am now, in the last place, to point out the remedy of immoderate sorrow. Much, indeed, lias been said already to dissuade from this evil. Yet it REMtJDV OF LM MODERATE SOKRoW. 135 niny be of additional advantage to suggest the following rules. Rule 1. If you icould not excessively lament the lass of created conforls^ guard against loving them inordi- nately^ while in your possession. The apostle unites temperance and patience in the precept, 1 Pet. i. 1. 'I'he allection of Jacob for Joseph was doubtless exces- sive. The consequence was, that when the favourite was supposed to be dead, the fond father refused to be comforted, and resolved to «-o down to the grave to his son, mourning. Behold, Christians, the consequence of inordinate affection ; and as you would avoid the sad effect, beware of the cause. Rule 2. Faithfully perform your duties to your re- latives, while you have them. The consciousness of this will do much to allay your sorrows, when they are yours no longer. Rut conscious guilt adds a sting to allliction. How terrible to look on a deceased friend, to whom, while living, we have been unfaithful, per- haps unkind ! As you would part comfortably with friends at death, and meet them comfortably at judg- ment, be faithful in the discharge of all relative duties. Rule 3. Pour out your sorrows into the bosom of God. What a privilege is prayer to the Christian at all times, but especially in seasons of distress ! It is a relief to deposite our sorrows in the bosom of a wife or a friend. How much more to leave our complaints with a compassionate and faithful God ! Go then. Christian, in the cloudy and dark day ; retire from all creatures, and pour out your heart to your heavenly Father. Confess your sins ; justify God in his severest chastisements ; entreat the support of his everlasting arms ; implore his smiles to cheer your drooping spirit. Thus you may hope to find the best relief, the sweetest consolation. Rule 4. In your affliction, eye God more, and second- ary causes less. " I was dumb," says David, " I opened not my mouth, because thou didst it." In your atlliction, and in all its circumstances, consider the hand of God. 1. As a sovereign hand. He has a perfect 136 nEMEDV Ot mMoUl^KAlE oOliROW. right to (li.spose of you, uiid of all your comfoi tc^ ; and this without rxplamiu^ tlic rca.sou.-s ol' hio conduct. Job xxxiii. 13. 2. As a Father's liand, correcting in love and iaithfulncss. Prov. iii. 12. If the uHliction draws your heart to God, and divorces it from the world, surely it is a kind aliliction. If it issues in your love to God, doubt not it proceeds from God's love to you. 3. As a righteous hand. Surely God has done you no wrong. Must you not confess, that all you suifer is the fruit of sin ? 4. As a tender^ merciful hand, inflict- ing less than your iniquities deserve. He has cast you into the furnace of aliliction ; and might he not justly have cast you into the pit of despair? It is of the Lord's mercies that you arc not consumed. Why should a living man complain ? Rule 5. Compare your afflictions ivith those of others. Say not, there is no sorrow like your sorrow. You have lost one child ; but Aaron lost two, and Job all ; and lost them by an immediate, instantaneous stroke of God. The children of some pious parents have died victims to public justice. Others have lived to sin so grievously that tlieir broken-hearted parents were ready to wish they had died from the womb ! A third class have experienced such protracted and intolerable sufferings on a sick-bed, that even a fond mother has wished and prayed for the closing moment. O think of these things, and acknowledge that your lot has been comparatively merciful. Rule 6. Avoid 'whatever tends to renew your grief and excite your impatience. Do not mcreasc your sor- row by the sight of melancholy objects, or by convers- ing about them. Thus you will avoid some of the prin- cipal means by which the adversary excites the corrup- tions of the heart. Where there is so nuich of the inflammahlc, you cannot too solicitously shun the ap- proach of every spark. Rule 7. Remember that you will soon, very soon^ follow the friend you have lost. " I shall go to him," says David, in reference to his deceased child. AVhen we forget our mortality, the loss of our eartlily coml'orts CONFLICT AND TRIUMPH OF A CHRISTIAN. 137 srems insupportable. Wlicn we feel that "time is short," we learn to " weep as though we wept not." AViien we look into our own graves, we can look with composure iiito the graves of our friends. And now, may the Father of mercies, tlie God who comforteth the moiu-ners, write these truths in your hearts, to your present consolation, and your everlasting joy. Amen. THE CONFLICT AND TRIUMPH OF A CHRISTIAN. BY THE KEY. S. W. C U N N 1 N G H A ."M, A.M. •' Beyond this vale of tears, There is a life above ; Unmeasur'd by the thght of years, And all that life is love." Revelation iii. 10. — Him that overcomctli ivill I moke a pillar in the temple of my God ; and he shall qo no more out ; and I loill ivritc upon him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, which is in Ncio' Jerusa- lem, tvhich cometh doivn out of heaven front my God; and I loill write iijwn him my new name. It is often our duty, in order to obtain a more familiar acijuaintance with the habits and dispositions of tlie true servant of (iod, to follow him througli the various ; tages of his earthly pilgrimage. But these are not the only circumstances in which we are allowed to con- template his course. It is our privilege, and a privi- lege of the higliest value, in those moments especially when the heart is in danger of fainting under the trials of life, to follow the servant of the Redeemer from earth to heaven ; to enter with him, as far as the light of Scripture will enable us, behind the veil, and survey the regions of his rest and glory. Such is my wish on the present occasion. And, in order to approach this lofty contemplaiio]! in n suitable frame of mind, let u^ 138 THE CONFLICT AND TlilUMPH earnestly supplicate ilio j)ie.scncu and aid ol' tliat Spirit wlio alone " can taku oi" Christ, and bliow them" to the boul. It is my intention to consider, — 1. The qiiahlieationa for heaven insisted upon in the text : and, 11. The promises to those possessed ol" this quaiiii- ration. 1. Wc are to consider the quuiijlcatiun insisUd upon in the text. It is stated in that single expression, " llini that overcometh." In the lirst place, the term evidently implies a struf;- glc and conflict. It cannot, even in the lowest sense of the word, be aflirmed of an individual, that he "overcomes," who docs not " harness himself for the battle," or enter into the light. Every part of Scripture accordingly, calls the servant of God to a contest, full of danger, with inward corruption and outward trial. He is to " endure hardness, as the good soldier of Jesus Christ." He is to remember that he fights, not merely " with flesh and blood," but " with principalities and powers, and spiritual wickedness in high places." And, in order to meet the exigencies of such a strug- gle, he is to " put on the whole armour of God." A considerable portion of a whole epistle is employed in describing the Christian hero thus arming for the bat- tle, and gouig forth under the banner of the cross, to the contest with his spiritual enemies. And great must be his misconception of the corruptions ol" his own heart, of the demands of Scripture, and of the number and malignity of his spiritual enemies, who does not discover the severity of this contest, and his need of this armour. You who hflierit the promises of the text, must beware of casting yourselves into the lap of sloth and indulgence. You have much to accomplish, and but a little interval in which to accomplish it. The trumj) of the gospel has sounded to arms, and you are to quit the canqi, to go forth, and give battle to the enemy. " Wo to them that are at ease in Zion." 2. But again, the term " ovcrcometli" implies daily advancement and success. The Christian is a man Ul A CIIKISTIAN. 139 not iiifiely coiiUiuliiig, but ^uccts.sfaUy contending. He liiis not only onleicd on the enemy's country, but is (l;iily gaining new victories over him. 'J'o this elVcct arc the injunctions and declarations of the apostle : ♦' Fight tiie good light ol" iaith :" "Lay hold on eternal life:" "Grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our (iod and JSaviour." If, therefore, the text describes \ our case, you are not to be lound as the soldier on parade, continually treading the same ground ; but as a soldier on the march, or in the field, making the out- posts of yesterday the trench of to-day, and hurrying onward till the inmost citadel is won. " There is yet nuich land," said Joshua to his lingering countrymen, " to be possessed in Israel." Many streams were to be forded, many mountains to be scaled, and many lair and fertile regions to be added to the territory of tlic people of Ciod. And thus shoidd we still say to tiic lingering ajid halting soldiers of the cross : Much land is yet to be possessed m Israel ; many tempers are to be subdued, many lusts bridled, many appetites (pienched. A fair and fertile region, a land of green j)astures and still waters, stretches before you, antl in- vites you to go forward. As yet, perhaps, you know comparatively little of the pleasures of religion, of the " light sow^i for the righteous," and " the gladness of the upright in heart;" of the "lively hope" to which ibe Christian is "begotten again by the resurrection of his Lord from the dead;" of the "righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." You are not yet able to say, " I will go unto the altar of God ; unto God, my exceeding joy ;" " I will ofler in his taber- nacle sacrilices of joy ;" " Believing, we rejoice, M'ith joy unspeakable and full of glory." " How long," then, I would ask with the leader of the Jews, "How long are ye slack to go in to possess the land which the Lord Ciod of your fathers hath given you ?" The sol- (hers of the Lord must go forward, till, having subdued every enemy in one world, they rise on angels' wings, to possess themselves of the glories of another. 3. But a third feature of the nmn who " overcometh'* 140 THE CONFLICT AND TRIUMni is perseverance. His religion is not the mere meteor of the moment, extinguished almost as soon as kindled. Herod for a time heard John gladly ; Felix trembled ; the apostate Demas followed for a season in the train of the true servants of the Redeemer. But religion demands something more than this transient service. ] low explicit is the language of Scripture ! " Be ye ibllowers of them who through faith and patience in- lierit the promises;" "He that endureth to the end, sliall be saved;" "Be faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." Perseverance mciy he cnWcd the last and best triumph of grace in the soul. It is not perhaps in the infancy of religion, when it comes to us in all the bloom and freshness of novelty — in that spring-time of our spiritual existence, when the flowers of hope and joy are often scattered so richly over our path — it is not then, in every case at least, the course of the Christian is most difficult. It is, perhaps, when all that is pleasing to the natural man has vanished ; "when the novelty has passed away ; when the voice of love and tenderness, Mhich first cheered us on our way to Zion, is silent ; \vhen many prospects of usefulness have closed ; when, perhaps, we have been made to feel that it is rather by suflering than doing we are to win our way to heaven ; when our motives have been misrepresented, our principles traduced, and our zeal and love requited with neglect or scorn : — then it is that our religion is especially in danger of flagging, and the chilled and disappointed heart of growing " weary in well doing." But the man M'ho iinally ovcr- cometh, will, notwithstanding all this, persevere : he will set his face like a flint against corruption ; will " resist, even unto blood, the contradiction of siimerb" against the Master he loves ; M'ill be able to adopt something of the language of the apostle, " By honour and dishonour, by evil report and good report ; as de- ceivers, and yet true ; as unknown, and yet well known ; as dying, and behold we live ; as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing ; as poor, yet juaking mm\y rich ; as having notliing, and yet possess- 01; A CUKlcllAN. 141 !iio all tliiiJi^s ;" ami again, " 1 count nut my Vii'v. tiear unto uiy.scir, so that 1 Jiught liiiisli my course willi joy, and tlu; ministry wliicli 1 have received ol" the Jiord Jesus." 11. liCt us then proceed to consider, secondly, the promises addressed in the text to the victorious servants oi" the Redeemer. " Ilim that ovcrcomcth^'' says our Lord, " uyill I make a pillar in the temple oj my Gody and he shall go no ?nore out ; and I will write vpo>)i him the name of my God^ and the name of the city of my Gody tchich is New Jerusalem, which cometh down out of heaven from my God ; and will write upon him my new name.'''' 1. In the first place, it is here said that the success- I'ul (yjnistian shall be '-''made a pillar in the temple of his God.'''' The mIioIc of the imagery in the text is pro- bably borrowed from the practice, in ancient times, of erecting pillars in honour of the achievements ol" dis- tinguislied individuals, in or near their temples of false gods. In hke manner, it is here said that the Christian shall be erected as a pillar of triumph in the temple of the true and living God. In this world, the servant of the Redeemer may be a mere outcast in society. He may toil, and want, and suller ; may " rise early" to eat " the bread of carefulness," and sink to rest upon the hard and rugged bed of poverty. Or he may wander with the poor Arab of the desert; or trample amid the snows of the pole ; or linger out a dreary existence in the cheerless and sunless hut of the western savage. The gospel may, in short, find him in the lowest depths of want and suffering. Nevertheless, " he that over- cometh shall be made a pillar in the temple of God." That poor outcast, if a true servant of Christ, shall be stripped of his rags and wretchedness, and be raised as a pillar of ornament in the temple of the Lord. Great, jiiy Christian brethren, will be die changes and reverses of the last solemn day ; " the first shall be last, and the last fn-st." The wicked shall at once shrink to their proper nothingness ; but the contrite and believing shall participate in the glories of their Lord. They shall be 142 THE CONFLICT AND TRIUMPH plaiilctl in Uie temple of (Jod. The " one ihing they desire u})on earth" sliall he granted them ; " they bhall behold tlic lair heauty of the Lord, and dwell in his temi)]e." They shall live in his presence — they shall liear his voice — they shall mingle their songs with the redeemed — they shall proclaim the glory of " the Cru- rificd" for ever and ever — they shall "see the King in liis beauty, and tlie land that is very far oif." 2. Again: it is said of the triumpliant Christian in the text, " he shall go no more out.'''' In this world, my brethren, change and decay are stamped on every thing around us. Our choicest blessings are suspended on the most slender threads. The man this morning lifting to heaven a head lofty as the cedar, and spreading forth his green branches on every side, may ere night be struck by the fires of heaven, and lie blasted and life- less on the plain. And even our spiritual joys partake in some measure of the same fluctuating character. How great, for instance, are apt to be the ebb and flow of the religious affections ! How soon is the ardour of devotion chilled ! How difficult is it to sustain tlie vigour of our first love ! How docs the body seem to hang upon the soul, and to chain it to earth when it is soaring to heaven ! But the Christian, exalted to be a *' pillar in the temple of his God," shall " go no more out." The sun of his joys shall never go down. The well-spring of his comforts shall never fail. The joys of one moment shall be the joys of eternity. Once lodged in the bosom of his Father, no force shall drag him from it. Inseparably united to God, he shall eter- nally participate in the pleasures which are at his riglu- hand. He shall " shine as a star in the firmament for ever and ever." 3. Again : it is said, " / will write on him the name of my God.'''' It was customary to write on the pillars of victory, to which we have already referred, the name of the false god in whose temple the pillar was erected. And thus, in the case of the Christian, the name of Je- hovah, so dear to him on earth, shall be stamped on his forehead in htuven ; " Ye shall see his face, and his OF A CHRISTIAN. 143 name shall be on your forehead." In this world, it is })ossibIe that the sincere Cln-islian should be perplexed eitlier by his own doubts or insinuations of others ; but in heaven his acceptanee and adoption will be no longer a disputable point. lie shall be recognised by Him who has stamped h.ini with his own name. He s!iall be owned also by myriads of happy spirits, wlio, beholding- that sacred name, shall at once hail him as their brother and associate in all the occupations and joys of the region of light, and life, and glory. 4. Again : it is said of the triumphant Christian, " / vnll write on kirn the name of the city of my God, ickich is Ncio Jerusalem., ichich corneth down out of heaven from my God.^^ As it was usual to write on these pil- lars of triumph the name of the city of the conqueror ; so on the pillars erected in heaven shall be engraven the name of that celestial city which afterward de- scended in vision before St. John, or which is hero called "the New Jerusalem, wliich came down out of heaven from God." Even here, in this state of being, jny brethren, it is " the city not made with hands" tho Christian seeks : " we have here no continuing citv ; but we seek one to come," — " the city that hath founcla- tions, M'hose builder and maker is God." And to that city he shall be exalted in heaven. Lift up your eyes, ye dejected children of God, and behold for a moment your future habitation, as it is displayed in the glowing })icture of one who was permitted to gaze upon it. Behold "its walls of jasper," and its "foundations of precious stones ;" the "glory of the JiOrd to lighten it, and the Lamb to be the light thereof;" its "river of life;" its "tree, whose leaves are for the healing of the nations." Behold it without any "curse," or " night," or " sorrow," or " crying," or " death." The life of lliis world, says the apostle to true servants of the Re- deemer, " is not your life, for your life is hid with C 'hrist in God." In like manner it may be said to llie true Christian, The lieritage of this world is not your heri- tage : you are born of a loftier destiny, you are citizens of a heavenly country; you arc sent among us for a 144 THE CONFLICT AND TRIUMPH time, to take a trnjisient view of our prison-house to benelit us, and to learn more efleetually yourselves, by contrast, the superiority of the world to eonie. The language of your Lord is, " In my Father's house are many mansions : I go to prepare a place for you." And O ! what motives for patience, and gratitude, and love does such a promise supply ! What is it, my Christian brethren, to be straitened for a time by the narrowness of our mansion on earth, if such is the liabitation purposed for us in heaven ? Wait but a little moment, and, though it shall not be granted to you, as to St. John, to see in the flesh the descending vision of the " heavenly city," it shall be granted to you to be- liold it in still more favourable circumstances. He saw it indeed ; but it was in a trance, and but for a_moment, and he awoke to find liimseT a prisoner in the flesh, and an exile in Patmos. But in your case sight will be possession. You shall behold the city of (iod, to lose sight of it no more : you shall see it, to be wel- comed as its citizen and its hdiabitant for ever. You sliall no sooner plant your foot in its golden streets, than your exde shall either be remembered no longer, or remembered merely to enhance the joys of deliver- ance. Your chains shall drop from you, and you shall walk abroad in all the glorious liberty of the children of God." 5. But it is added, finally, "7 will lorUc upon /lim ?«?/ new name." In other words, the same divine hand will stamp upon the triumphant servant of the cross the "new name" by which Cod hath last revealed himself to his creatures ; that is, the name of Jesus — the INIes- siah — the Anointed One — ^^" the Lord our Righteous- ness ;" — or, as he is called in that magnilicent descrip- tion of the Son of God, in the nineteenth chapter of this book, the " King of kings, and JiOrd of lords." Yes, my (christian brethren, as it was customary to engrave on the pillar of worldly triumph the name of the leader under whom the soldier fought and conquered ; so the (-aptain of your salvation, your Ciuide through all the intricacies of this valley of tears, your iieader in the OF A CHRISTUN. 145 jrrofit conflict ngiiinst the corruptions of the heart, tlio vanity of the world, and the assauhs of the powers of darkness, shall stamp his own name on your forehead, and designate you as his children forever. The name which has been your " strength and your joy" upon earth, shall be your shield and your gloiy for ever. And should the same Spirit, who communicated with .St. John in that world of light, be asked by some new apostle, admitted, like his predecessor, to' catch a glimpse of the glories to be revealed, " Who arc those stamped with the name of the Redeemer?" he shall once more reply, " These are they who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Tiamb ; therefore are they before the throne of God, ■.md serve him day and night in his temple ; and he that siiteth on the throne shall dwell among them ; they shall hunger no more, neither thh'st any more ; neither siiall the sun light on them, nor any heat ; for the liamb, wluch is in the midst of the throne, shall lead them unto living fountains of water, and God shall wipe away all tears Irom their eyes." If the promises ma/Je to the church of God arc thus lofty and valuable, let us beware of ra.shly laying claim to them. Cany tiiis <;onviction, my brethren, habitually along with 3'ou, that if heaven is the world where these promises arc to be enjoyed, this is the world wiiere a title to tliem is to be obtained. If that is the region of triumph, this is the lield of conflict. If pardon is to he gained through the blood and intercession of the Redeemer, it is to be gained here. If the heart is to be transformed, the temper to be subdued, and the whole man to be subjugated to the will of God, the change must be accomplished here. There is no inter- mediate world, no border country, measured out by the hand of the great Judge, in which you may shake oft' the corruption of the llesh and clothe yourself in tiie vesture of righteousness. Here it is that you must shed the tears of penitenc^e, olTer the prayer of faith, wash your sins iti tjic blood of atonement, and acquire the taste, the habits, the qualilirations which are to lit i:i G 146 CONFLICT AND TRIUMPH OF A CHRISTIAN, you for the kingdom of God. But if this he true, what apology is to be found for the lives of thousands in society? Why this delay — this consumption of time on tlie follies and vices of life — this lingering upon doubtful ground — this incorporation with the world — this drowsiness in prayer, in the reading of the Scrip- tures, and in the use of every means of grace? *' Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, that Christ may give thee light." And, finally, I would entreat you to call to mind what, as the expectants of this bright reversion and in- heritors of these glorious promises, may be expected of you. Is such a "mansion," with all its seats of joy and triumph, prepared for you ? Then why these looks and accents of disquietude amid the petty cares and distractions of life ? Why this feverish thirst for worldly distinctions ? Why this covetous grasp after worldly interests ? AVhy this cowardly and shamefaced profession of the religion of the cross? All this " savours not of God," but of man — not of the " city which hath foundations," but of this poor, fugitive, sor- did, fallen world. You lay claim to the promises of God ; let us see that they aa-e not wasted or dishonoured in your hands. You proclaim yourselves children of God ; let it be felt that you are " crucified to the world and the world unto you." Oppose to the seductions of sense, to the follies of life, to those withering chaplets which alone the world can bind around your brow, the present delights of faith and hope, and communion with God and holy obedience to his will, and the future glories and triumphs of the assembly of the redeemed. Already are many "pillars" erected in the "temple of God." Already does it resound with the hallelujahs of the blessed. Remember your high and solemn vocation. " If you arc risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth at the riglit-hand of God." Let your conversation be in hea- ven, from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, LETTERS. REV. JOHN NEWTON'S LETTERS. Last night I preached from Job iii. 1-3: "He opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth." Ilis losses and atHictions would not have made him speak thus, had not the Lord permitted Satim to assault hiju with no other limitation than not to take his life. When thus left to himself under the enemy's power, the evils of his heart broke out in bitter and rash com- plaints. The same evils are in my heart, and the simi- lar change of circumstances would soon produce the like effects. But, blessed be the Lord, he does not permit Satan to rage so violently against me. Job's case, however, may teach us how precarious outward prosperity is. Let us pray that we may be watchful, and not lean too hard upon creature comforts, for we know not what a day may bring forth. But the same almighty, all-sufficient, compassionate Friend who sup- ported Job, is with us also. The Lord knows our frame, and remembers we are but dust. He will either lay no more upon us than he ;5ees we can bear; or if his wisdom sees fit to increase our burden, he will likewise give us increase of strength according to our day. And now, as om- gi-eat High-priest upon the throne, he has an experimental sympathy with his children. He laiows what sore temptations mean, for he has felt the same. He pitied Job and bore with him : he pities and will bear with us ; it is well for us that his patience and mercy are higher than the heavens. He not only brought Job through all his troubles, but justiiied liiiu G2 148 REV. JOHN NKWTOM ri LETTERS. ^ from tlic uiikinJ suspicions of liis friends ; did not even mention his former rush wishes, but made his hitter end better than his beginning. Then, I suppose, Job did not rue the day of his birth. Lord, enable us to resign ourselves and our all into thy hands ; since thou invitcst us to cast all our care upon thee, and dost assure us, ihat thou carest for us ! May wc make thy word the gromid of our hope, the rule of om- conduct, and thy holy will the measure of our desires ; and wait with faith, hope, and humble submission, for the appointed liour when thou wilt call us to our heavenly home ! With this prospect in view, we may bless the Lord for our natural bij-th, since we have lived to be born again from above, and have thereby a taste (though, alas ! faint) for the worship and company before the throne of glory. When all our sins and sorrows are left bo- low, and earth is exchanged for heaven, what a blessed exchange will that be ! I thank the Lord my health is good, though in my 77th year, and imder a great and heartfelt trial. I often preach in public, and from house to house, six or seven times a week. I am a wonder to many, and ought to be still more so to myself. 1 Tim. i. 15. Your affectionate and obliged, John Newton. My dear Friend, *****! would praise the TiOrd for tlic strength and support he afforded you under your late great trial. It is hideed a great trial to part with our dearest friends at any time : our gracious Lord did not reprove Mary and Martha ibr weeping when their brother died, but condescended to drop a tear of sym- pathy with them. He still sympathizes witli his peo- ple, for he was once a man of sorrows for our sakes : sec Heb. iv. 15, IG. However, when the Lord has declared his will by the event, it does not become us to REV. joii^f Newton's letters. H9 indulge grief, which is often hurtful to health and to our peace of mind. We should rather aim to praise the Lord for continuing our friends to us so long, than allow one repining thought for their leaving us, es- pecially when we follow them in our thoughts, and see them by the eye of fahh before the throne, and have a good hope that we in a short time shall rejoin them to part no more for ever. 'J^he Lord help you to lind comfort in reflecting what a husband he was, and how long he was spared to you ; what a blessing he \vas, not only to you and your children, but a public blessing to many in diftercnt parts of the kingdom ; what a char- acter he has left, and how many (more than you will ever know) are now weeping for his removal ! Oh, how it would gladden my heart, and my dear child's (who joins in love to you and in prayer for you and yours), to see you once more. I hope the Lord will enable you and make you willing, in his own best time, to come to London. But if I am to be so indulged, you must come soon, for I may well say with Isaac, " Behold, I am old and know not the day of my death." He also was blind, and I am almost so. It is with great difficulty, and at many intervals, that I have writ- ten thus much, and I cannot now clearly see the tip of my pen. But I could write because it is to you. ]My dear cliild, though not yet perfectly well in health, is so far restored as to be a great comfort to me. What cause have I to praise the Lord for his goodness in supporting us in the darkest part of our great trial, and for the merciful mitigations with which he now favours us. He who has done so much can and will, in his own good time, do the rest. He hath delivered, he doth deliver, and in him I trust that he will deliver us. I can tell others what good reasons his people have to acquiesce in his dispensations, but, alas ! I am a poor creature, and I often find it hard to practise my own lessons. We join in love to all your children, and to all who love the Lord Jesus Christ. May tlie liord our Saviour give you peace always, and by all means in hiijiself. We caa expect it only iu und from him. X3* 150 REV. JOHN Newton's letters. Our life liorc is a state of conflict and warfriic. But the time is short and the end is sure. VVc liopo at hist to be more than conquerors, through hiin who hath loved us. I am, my dear Madam, Your very ullcctionatc and much oblij^ed, John Newton. My dear Friends, * * * * * I am often thankful ih.at I was led to your liouse, and that I had the pleasure of seeing you in mine. The friendship commenced be- tween us, I trust, will subsist and grow, though perhaps opportunities of personal intercourse will not be frc- (juent ; a union of hearts in grace is aficcted neither by absence nor local distance ; a glance of thought con- veys me to you whenever I please. The throne of grace is very near to you and to me, and if we often meet there, we cannot be far distant from each other. By-and-by, we hope to rejoice together before the throne of glory ; there we shall be ever with the Lord, and with each other. May this thought animate us while we stay here. " We are not our own, we are bought with a price." There is but one thing worth living for ; that we may live to him who died for us ; that we may live to show forth his praise by obedience, by submission, by usefulness to others, hi visiting the aillicled, assisting them by our sympathy, counsel, })rayers, or purse, as the case requires, in supporting the cause of the gospel, and forwarding whatever bids fair for the good of society. These aims ought chiefly to engage our time, talents, and influence. Oh ! what an honour to be the instruments of the Lord, in dif- fusing his benefits around us ! to be the followers of Jiim who went about doing good. * * * How much does it behoove us to watch and pray for REV. JOHN NEWTOjN'js LETTERS. 101 grace, thai wc may be always })rcparcd for the couiin- gencies wc may meet witli in this present state ! lor who knows what a day or an hour may bring forth t in the midst of Hie we arc in death ; in the midst of apparent safety, wc are always in danger. Wc indeed, if behevcrs, are always safe under tlie Lord's protection, and immortal till our work is done, but we can i)crccive it would not be conducive to the life of faith if his peo- ple were visibly marked on the forehead to distinguish them from the world. A general exemption from such alllictions as are common to others would be equivalent to such a mark, therefore they are liable to the various calamities with which sin has fdled the world. They arc free from condemnation, but not from pain, sickness, poverty, losses, crosses, and sudden trying changes, and what wo call premature death. These trials like- wise give occasion for the exercise and manifestation of many graces which are not so visible in the sunshine of prosperity, and they are fiu*ther sanctified to wean the people of God more from the world, and to weaken the body of sin which still dwellcth in them. On these accounts, for a time, in the Lord's providential appoint- ments, all things seem to happen nearly alike to all. But even now, his people have supports and consola- tions in their troubles peculiar to themselves, and whicli strangers intermeddle not with ; and hereafter, the dif- ference between the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth God and him that servcth him not, will be perfectly manifested. All this I have written rather towards fdUng up the paper, than for your information. You have been en- abled to count the cost and to choose your side ; you are desirous and determined to be the Lord's, to be his on his own terms, to live upon his mercy, to build all your hopes upon the foundation he has laid, to expect all your supplies from the fountain which he has opened, to receive Christ Jesus the Lord as your Prophet, Priest, and King, to receive all from his hands, to do all An* his sake. Go on, and be of good courage ; he who has >vrought ill you to will, will also enable you to do uc' 152 REV. JOHN Newton's letters. cording to his good pleasure. But you must expect that your profession will be a warfare ; we are en- couraged to look forward to victory and trium])h, but these terms of course imply a previous conflict ; there would be no victory if there were no enemies to figiit wiili. May the Lord bless, guide, and guard you ; make you happy in yourselves and each otlier, and useful in all your connexions : So prays, dear Sir and Madam, Your affectionate and obliged, JoiiN Newton. My dear Madam, * * * * * I am almost six weeks in my seventieth year : it is time for me to think less of going about, and more of going home. I cannot now be far from my journey's end. May the good Lord help me and you also to praise him for what is past, and to trust him for what is to come. He appoint- eth the hour of our birth, and the hour of our dismis- sion is with him likewise. Whether sooner or later, it will be just at the right time, if it finds us with our loins girt, and our lamps burning ; and, if he who kindled them is pleased to supply us with fresh oil, neither the world, the flesh, nor the powers of darkness, shall be able to exthiguish them ; otherwise they must soon go out of themselves, for we have no stock of our own. But we need not put an i/upon his faithfulness, pro- vided we are sensible of our weakness, and wait upon him in those means by which he has promised to renew our strength. Mr. Simeon preached for me last Wednesday, from Rev. V. 11th, 12th, and 13th verses. He spoke of the company, the object of their worship, and their song, I was going to say, as if he had just come down fi'oii^ REV. JOHN Newton's letters. 153 among them. I think he had a favoured peep Avithia llic veil ; and there was siieh a visible impression on liis hearers as is not common. Why are we not aim- ing to realize that scene, when we hope to join tlicm soon, and likewise hope, that among the thousands and myriads which encompass the tin-one "day without night, rejoicing," there are some who were intimately near and dear to ns ? AVhile they were upon cartli wo sympathized with them in their sorrows, and why not sympathize with them now in their joys ? Oh ! coukl we but see them as I believe they see us, it would greatly weaken our sense both of the bitters and the sweets of this poor life ! but perhaps it would totally unfit us from attending to the duties of our station. The weakness of our mortal frame would not permit us to think of any thing but what we saw. This seems to have been the apostle's case (2 Cor. xii.) ; while he saw invisibles, and heard unutterables, he knew not whether he was in or out of the body. We are there- fore at present to walk, not by sight, but by faith. But there is much attainable even here, which our unbelief keeps from us. It is comfortable to have a hope of heaven hereafter, but we should desire to have as much of heaven as possible while we are here ; to resemble the angels who always do the will of the Lord, and be- hold his presence. What should we think valuable in this life but to live to him who died for us. We should consider what opportunities our situation, time, abilities, connexions, influence, and substance may aflx)rd us for promoting his service, and the good of our fellow-crea- tures ; for verily we are debtors, and whatever is given is more properly intrusted to us, and we should employ them all for him, as good stewards of his manifold blessings ; we should aim at the honour and pleasure of being useful, that we may experience the truth of our Lord's aphorism, " It is more blessed to give than lo receive." And if we obey with a single eye, and depend upon his grace with a single heart, he will surely favour us with a ])eacc that passelh understand- ing, which will keep our hearts and minds composed G3 154 REV. joiiJ^ Newton's letters. under all the changes wc may pass through in our pil- grimage, and ere long we shall sec him as he is, and be with him for ever. I am, my dear Friend, Your affectionute and obliged, John Newtox. REV. JOHN NEWTON TO A FRIEND. My dear suffering Friend, I heartily sympathize M-ith you, and I feel your dis- tress to part with such a comfortable wife, the com- panion many years of your travail and tribulation. How hard is it ! What a struggle must have been between nature and grace, between affection to the creature, and submission to the creature's God ! And now that she is gone, what must you still feel ! When you lie down, and when you rise up ; when you go out and come in ; and when you sit down to every meal, still, still her place is empty. I think I can enter into your spirit, and take part in your heaviness and grief. But of what avail is the sympathy of friends, in comparison with his, who took our infirmities and bore our sickness ? Wondrous grace ! In all our afflictions, he is afflicted ; and every member that suffers, our compassionate Head suffers with it! What a relief is this to me when thinking on Christian sufferers ! I can do no more than pity and weep with them. But he, who is touched with the feeling of their infirmhies, can effectually touch their hearts with a feeling of his consolations. Though he cause grief, yet has he compassion accord- ing to the multitude of his mercies ; and when he takes away father or mother, wife or children, he will give of himself a hundredfold more, even in this life; Avhereby the poor soul is made to forget its poverty, and to re- member its misery no more. O ! may our glorious High-priest make you to feel his tenderness in this REV. joHX Newton's letters. 155 holy quieting way ! and let him come and snp with you, telling you that you are not alone, for he is with you, he will never leave you, nor forsake you. For my part, I cease not to pray, "Jehovah, hear him in the day of trouble, and let the name of the God of Jacob defend him. Let him send help from his sanctuary, and strengthen him out of Zion." How necessary is the smallest trial ; but how much more, when the trial is so great ? And the more necessary, the more cer- tainly will it be bestowed ; for he is that brother who was born for adversity ; who, *' because the children Avere partakers of flesh and blood, himself also took part of the same, that he might be a merciful and faith- ful High-priest." 0! that our trust and affection to- wards him bore some proportion to his afl'ection and faithfulness towards us ! what should we not do ? what should we not suffer at his will ? Upon tlie real or apprehended loss of friends, I feel in myself, what I suppose is too common, I feel my distress greatly aggravated by the foolish thought, that I am to live long behind them. Many years must I pass, many summers and winters, without these dear companions of my feeble steps. But, did I turn the thought the other way, saying they are gone before, and perhaps in a few months, or a few days, I shall follow them ; how might this moderate my grief, and put me on the stretch to join them, and the general assembly and church of the first-born, who surround the throne of Crod and of the Lamb, who go no more out, but without wearying, serve him day and night in his tem- ple. The time I hope shall come, when we shall meet never to part. Let me entreat you to take care of your health in your present circumstances. Yom' aflectionate and obliged, JoHxN Newton, 156 REV. JOHN NEWTON S LETTERS. REV. J. NEWTON TO A LADY IN AFFLICTION. Dear Madam, 1 know you liave met with many afTIictions and trims, and must continue to do so as long as you remain in a frail body and a sinful world ; hut remember this is part of our dear Lord's legacy, and as such the sure portion of all his faithful followers ; hereby oiir communion and conformity to him are maintained, and if we suO'er with liim, we shall also reign with him. Take courage, madam, yet a little while, and this imperfect state of things shall cease ; neither sin nor sorrow shall And place in the heavenly world, but God himself, whom we so imperfectly serve, shall honour us before men and angels, distinguish us with a crown of life and glory, and wipe away all tears for ever from our eyes. A few sighs and struggles more, and all things shall become new, death shall be swallowed in life, and con- llict terminate in everlasting victory and triumph. At present the Lord's way in his dispensations to us is wrapt up often in clouds and darkness ; w^e know not what he does nor whither his discipline tends, but we shall know hereafter : when the veil is taken away we sliall see clearly that infinite wisdom and infinite love directed all our steps through this waste, howling wil- derness ; that no trial was unnecessary, nor any need- ful supply withheld. And even here, faith when in exercise may discern much of the goodness and ex- pediency of the troubles we feel ; all of them are little enough to wean us from a vain world, to quicken our desires after that kingdom which is prepared for us, and which all these things are preparing us for. Were it not for unbelief and self-will, we should find lliemost thorny paths of God's appointing to be paths of peace and pleasantness ; and we shouhl know that word is not in vain which commands us to be joyful in (rilnda- REV. JOHN Newton's letters. 157 tions. Are they not the effects and the tokens of God's special love, witliout wliich we should be destitute of one great evidence of our relation to him ? and do they not concur to work for us a far more exceeding and eter- nal weight of glory? Hcb. xii. 5-12 ; 2 Cor. iv. 17. Was Moses, Job, David, Jeremiah, Paul, nay, was Christ himself exempt from them? Is he not, on the con- trary, described as eminently a man of sorrows, and ac- quainted with griefs ? Was not his whole life, from the cradle to the cross, a continual series of sufierings? and did he not suffer for this among other ends, to sanctify and sweeten our sufferings, to take out the sting and change the very nature of affliction ? Let us not then be cast down, let us not even complain, but rather pray to be armed with the like mind, that we may resolutely take up and glory in our cross. The time is short ; from whence the apostle infers, let those who weep be as though they wept not. lias God par- doned our sins, given us his word, his grace, his Son, his Spirit, his salvation? Has he promised to be with us in trouble, and in his good time to deliver us out of it ? Has he told us that the hairs of our head are all numbered ; that his everlasting arms are aroimd us, and his eye and his heart continually upon us? Let us therefore say with the psalmist, "We will not fear, though the earth be removed and the mountains cast into the midst of the sea." Let us resolve with the prophet to rejoice in God, though every creature-com- fort should fail, and every favourable appearance be withdrawn ; for the Lord Is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble, and he knoweth them that put their trust in him. ****♦# Please to give our love to S. She has the best ad- vice I can give, but the Lord alone can comfort and instnict to purpose. I think of her, I pray for her, and I trust he will in good time grant her deliverance ; if not to make her very happy in life, yet to give lier a comfortable dismission out of it, and an -abundant en- trance into his kingdom of joy and peace. There, I trust, we shall all meet to pari no more. In the mcun M 168 REV. MR. IIERVFA' TO A FRIEND. time, may the Lord give us a patient, thankful, Jind childhke" resignation and acquiescence in his divine will, M'hich is the highest attainment to which we can aspire in this Hfe ; preferable, in my judgment, to the power of speaking with the tongue of men and of an- gels, the working of miracles, or having understanding of all mysteries and all knowledge. This is the silent and secret way of peace, by which God leads those who are little in their own eyes to that sweet repose which many who are known and esteemed in the world are little acquainted with. * * * * I am, dear Madam, Your most affectionate and obliged friend and servant, John Newton. REV. MR. HERVEY TO A FRIEND. Dear Sir, I truly commiserate your variegated calamity ; and heartily wish I could suggest any thing which might be the means of administering some ease to your atHicted mind, and of assisting you to reap ample benefit from your distressed situation. You well know that all afflictions of what kind soever proceed from God : " I form the light, and create daj'k- ness ; I make peace, and create evil ; I the Lord do all these things." Isa. xiv. 7. They spring not from the dust ; are not the eflects of a random chance, but the appointment of an all-wise, all-foreseeing God, who intends them all for the good of his creatures. This, I think, is the fundamental argument for resignation, and the grand source of comfort. This should be our first reflection, and our sovereign support : He that gave me my being, and gave his own Son for my redemption, he has assigned me this sufierLng. AVhat he ordains, who is'boundless love, must be good : what he ordains, who is unerring wisdom, must be proper. REV. MR. IIERVEY TO A FRIEND. 150 This reconciled Eli to the severest doom that ever was denounced. " It is the Lord ;" and though griev- ous to human nature, much more grievous to parental affection, yet it is unquestionably the best ; therefore I humbly acquiesce, I kiss the awful decree, and say from my very soul, " Let him do M'hat seemeth him good." 1 Sam. iii. 18. This calmed the sorrows of Job under all his unpar- alleled distresses : the Lord gave my alfluence and pros- perity ; the Lord has taken all away ; rapacious hands and warring elements were only his instruments, therefore, I submit, I adore, I bless his holy name. This consolation fortilied the man Christ Jesus, at the approach of his inconceivably bitter agonies : " The cup which, not my implacable enemies, but my Father by their administration has given me, shall I not drink it?" It is your Father, dear sir, your hea- venly Fatlier, who loves yon with an everlasting love, that has mingled some gall with your portion in life. Sensible of the beneficent hand from which the visitation comes, may you always bow your head in patient sub- mission ; and acknowledge with the excellent, but afflicted monarch Hezekiah, " Good is the word of the Lord concerning me." 2 Ivings xx. 19. All afflictions are designed for blessings. To do us good at the latter end, however they may cross our de- sires, or disquiet our minds at present. " Happy," says the Spirit of inspiration, and not wretched, " is the man Avhom God correcteth." Job v. 7. And for this rea- son, because his merciful chastenings though " not joy- ous but grievous, yield the peaceable fruit of righteous- ness unto them that are exercised thereby." Heb. xii. 11. God's ways are not as our ways, 'i'he children whom we love, we are apt to treat with all the soft blandishments and fond caresses of profuse indulgence; and too, too often humour them to their hurt, if not to their ruin. But the Father of spirits is wise in his love, and out of kindness severe. Therefore it is said, *' Whom he loveth he chastcnoth, and scoiu-geth every sou whom he rcccivcih." llcb, xii. 6. Would you IGO HEV. MR. UERVEY TO A FRIEND. not, dear sir, be a diild of tliat everlasting Father, whose favour is better than Hfe 1 Affliction is one sign of your adoption to this inestimable relation. Would you not be an " heir of the inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away?" AfHiction is your path to this blissful patrimony. " Through much tribulation we must enter into the kmgdom of heaven." Acts xiv. 22. Would you not be made like your ever blessed and amiable Redeemer ? He was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and every disciple must expect to be as his Master. Perhaps you may think your aflliction peculiarly calamitous ; and that if it had been of some other kind, you could more cheerfully submit, more easily bear it ; but you are in the hands of an all-wise Physician, who joins to the bowels of infinite love the discernment of infinite \yisdorn. He cannot mistake your case. He sees into the remotest events ; and though he varies his remedies, always prescribes with exact propriety to every one's particular state. Assure yourself, there- fore, the visitation which he appoints is the most proper recipe in the dispensatory of heaven : any other would have been less fit to convey saving health to your immortal part, and less subservient to your enjoyment of the temporal blessings which may, perhaps, be yet in store for you. Should you inquire what benefits accrue from afflic- tions ? — Many and j)recious. They tend to wean us from the world. Wlien our paths are strewed with roses, when nothing but music and odours float around, how apt are we to be enamoured with our present con- dition, and forget the crown of glory, forget Jesus and everlasting ages ? But ailliction, with a faithful, though harsh voice, rouses us from the sweet delusion. Afflic- tion warns our hearts to arise and depart from these inferior delights, because here is not our rest. True and lasting joys arc not here to be found. The sweep- ing tempest and the beating surge teach the mariner to prize the haven, where undisturbtd repose waits his arrival. In like manner, disappointments, vexations, REV^. MR. HERVEV TO A I'Rl£Np, 161 anxieties, crosses, teach us to long for those happy- mansions, wliere all tears will be wiped away from tiie eyes. Rev. xxi. i ; all anguish banished from the mind ; and nothing, nothing subsist but the lulncss of joy and pleasures lor evermore. Alllictions tend to bring us to Christ. Christ has unspeakable and everlasting blessings to bestow — such as tiie world can neither give nor take away ; such as are sulHcient to pour that oil of gladness into our souls, which will s\yim above the waves of an earthly tribu- lation. But arc we not, dear sir, are we not most un- happily indolent and inattentive to these blessings, in the gay hours of an uninterrupted prosperity? It is very observable, that scarce any made application to our divine Redeemer in the days of his abode with us but the children of alliiction. The same spirit of su- pineness still possesses mankind. We undervalue, we disregard the Lord Jesus, and the unspeakable privi- leges of his gospel, while all proceeds smoothly, and nothing occurs to discompose the tenor of our tran- quillity. But when misfortunes harass our circum- stances, or sorrows oppress our minds, then we are willing, we are glad, we are earnest, to find rest in Christ. In Christ Jesus there is pardon of sins. Sin is a burthen incomparably sorer than any other distress. 8in would sink us into the depths of eternal ruin, and transtix us with the agonies of endless despair. But Christ has, at the price of his very life, purchased par- don for all tliat fly to him. He has borne the guilt of their sins in his own body on the tree. 1 Pet. ii. 24. Have they deserved condemnation t — lie has sustained it in their stead. Are they obnoxious to the wrath of God ? — He has endured it, as their substitute ; he has made satisfaction, complete satisfaction for all their iniquities, Rom. iii. 25, 26 ; so that justice itself, the most rigorous justice, can demand no more. Oh, that distresses may prompt us to prize this mercy ! may incite us to desire ardently this blessedness ! Then it Avill be good for us to have been aiflicted, Ps, cxix. 71. 11^ 16a REV. MR. IlEUVEY £0 A FRIEND. Christ has obtained for us the gift of the Holy tSpirit, GaL iii. 2, to sanctify our hearts and renew our natures. An unrenewed carnal mind is ten thousand limes mor(3 to be lamented, more to be dreaded, than any external calamities. And nothing can cure us of this most ticadly disease but the sanctiiication of the Spirit. This divine Spirit alone is able to put the fear of God in our souls, and awaken the love of God in our hearts. Jer. xxxii. 40. His influences suggest such awful and amiable thoughts to our minds as will be produc- tive of these Christian graces. This sacred principle subdues our corruptions, and conforms us to our blessed Redeemer's image. How is this best gift of heaven disesteemed by the darlings of the world, who have nothing to vex them ! But how precious is it, how de- sirable to the heirs of sorrow ! They breathe after it, as the thirsty hart panteth for the water-brooks. They cannot be satisfied without its enlightening, purifying', cheering communications. This is all their request, and all their relief, that the spirit of Christ may dwell in their hearts, Rom. viii. 9 ; may enable them to pos- sess their souls in patience, Luke xxi. 19; and derive never-ending good from momentary evils. Before I close these lines, permit me to recommend one expe- dient, which yet is not mine, but the advice of an in- spired apostle, "If any be afflicted, let him pray." Dear sir, fly to God in all your adversity, pour out your complaints before him in humble supplication, and show him your trouble. Ps. cxlii. 2. When I am in heavi- ness, says a holy sufferer, 1 will think upon God, Ps. Ixi. 2, his omnipotent power, his unbounded goodness, whose ear is ever, ever open to receive the cry of the afflicted. When the psalmist was distressed on every side, without were fightings, within were fears, the throne of grace was his place of refuge ; " I give my- self to prayer," Ps. (^ix. 3, was his declaration. This method we read Hannah took, and you cannot but re- member the happy issue. 1 Sam. i. 10. Let me entreat you to imitate these excellent examples ; frequently bend your knees, and more frequently lift up your heavl OKf THE DEATH OF REV. G. \V1LS0N. 103 to tho Father of nioicicis and Ciod of all consolalion ; not doubting but that through the merits of his dear 8on, through the intercession of your compassionate High-priest, he will hear yoiu* petitions, will comfort vou luuler ;dl your tribulations, and make them all work ux'cther for your infuiitc and eternal good. In the mean time, I shall not cease to pray that the (^od of all power and grace may vouchsafe to bless these considerations, and render them as balm to your aching heart, and as food to the divine life in your mind. I am, dear Sir, With much esteem, compassion, and respect, Your very sincere well-wisher, &c. REV. H. DAVIDSON TO REV. T. DAVIDSON, ON THE DEATH OF REV. G= W^ILSON. To the shame of our selfishness be it spoken, how loath are we to make an exchange of a friend on earth for one in heaven ! A great man and a peer is fallen in our Israel. When we are mounimg, we must not murmui-. It becomes rather to adore God for making him so great, without which we shoidd not have had the occasion to mourn ; and that he continued hmi so long capable of performing so many acceptal)le and honourable services to the church of God. As our world loses by the death of eminent sanUs, the other gains by it. They fall in our world, to rise more illustrious there. Coidd we trace Uiem exultmg before the throne of God and of the Lamb, trmmphmg in our blessed Redeemer, in immortal youth and vigour, freed from all disorder of body and mind for ever ; coukl we discover how bright they sliine, how ardently they love, how humbly diey adore ; and could we hear the melody of their songs ;— it would soon make us weary of this sinning, vain world, and adopt these words m m 164 ON THE DEATH Of HEV. G. WILSON. allowable sense, Let us also go, that wc may die with them. You may easily, dear sir, imagine how this loss af- fects me, and that in a very tender part. An able and judicious, an affectionate and constant friend for up- wards of thirty-five years ! My two dearest friends on earth, before me in every thing that was good and valuable, have likewise got. to heaven before me, and left to poor me the sinning, sighing part, while they are joined to the spirits made perfect in knowledge, holi- ness, and joy. However well pleased our Lord and the saints are in one another upon the change that death makes, it is not easy to make us pleased too, and cor- dially wish them joy of theii* new dignity and eleva- tion. Their sentiments are different. Their affections are raised and ennobled ; and, as well as they loved us, they would not come back to us for a thousand worlds. Upon their entrance into heaven, we may reasonably suppose their first wish is, " O that I had been sooner here ; and their next wish is for our being with them as soon as may be. The saints are Christ's friends as well as ours ; and we must allow him his blessed will (John xvii. 24), to have his friends about him, as well as we have had them so long ; and it may be, before Christ has had them so long Avith him as some of us have had them here below, we will be with them again, and Christ, and they, and we be all to- gether. O, what a happy meeting! They and we freed of all natural and sinful infirmities ! There the communion of saints is in perfection, and tliis blessed society shall never break up or separate. No parting salutation there. The word farewell is no part of the heavenly language. Now, my dear friend, when our Lord takes away our gracious, eminently useful friends, and public bless- ings, we must learn to translate our affection and de- pendence from earth to heaven, from these short-lived and uncertain supports to the living God ; and as our eye is directed to and fixed upon him, we shall be com- posed and comforted, even when Providence has set TO A LADY ON THE DEATH OF HER TATIIER. 1G5 US down ainoii«r the tombs. Wc arc called to inoiini, but not as without hope, nor as if Christ's interest was to sink and die with them. No ; its stability depends not on any mortal, but upon Him that said, " I am he that liveth and was dead, and behold, I am alive for evermore." Christians die, and ministers die ; but the word of the Lord dieth not, but liveth for ever. It is <^ood news, tliat though the earthen vessel is broken, riie heavenly treasure is not lost and buried in the grave. O, to be taught of God, to look up to him who has the seven spirits of God, to supply all our wants, to heal the wide breaches that are made from time to time ! The weaker the poor instruments are that are left, the excellency of th power will be more of God. REV. MR. MUIR TO A LADY, ON THE DEATH OF HER FATHER. i Madam, Yom- present trial arises from what is the true com- mencement of your father's triuuiph and perfection. 'I'akiug the dispensation in this form of light, to grieve and lo'^sin would be the same : for, if we rejoice at the conversion of sinners, why be sorrowful at the glorifi- cation of saints ? • i i Yet I am aware that your loss, abstractly considered, is a source of distress. It would be impiety to feel no sorrow ; and an attempt to reason you out of it would be fruitless and foolish. Far from endeavouring this, I would rather miugle my tears with yours. However culpable the after-conduct of Job's friends, I have often admired die propriety of their first interview with him. lustead of beginning widi arguments of a comforting nature, like men of tender feelings, and who wished to bear their friend's burden, they lifted up their voice and wept, and none spake a word to him, for they saw his 166 TO A LADir ON THE DEATH OF HfiR FATHER. giief was very great. Grief hath a period wherein ex- pressive silence is the truest sympathy. Yet constitutional differences may render diflerent applications needful for the same disease ; and grounds of encouragement simply suggested may have some in- fluence, even in such circumstances. Need I suggest as (where suitably improved) the infallible specific in all such cases, that *' the Lord liveth ?" Whatever comforts we enjoy, are they not all derived from and dispensed and continued by him ? What though par- ticular effects be removed ? The glorious cause re- mains, and remains as willing to help, read}^ to uphold, and capable of administering to our needs as ever. It is the Lord who renders comforts comforting to us ; and, if he makes the breasts of the creature in our view run dry, can he not open other sources, even of creatm*e consolation? Yes, though he should open tliem in rocks, whence they may be least expected. Or can he not, by such dispensations, wean the soul from creatures, and make the whole desire terminate in himself, in whom is all we can need, all we can wish, all we can enjoy? Having him, we have all ; without him the creation itself (the things in it we most esteem not excepted) would be a poor, a puny, a miserable all. Does he live ? What then of the Christian's hope and comfort can die ? What deduction can take place from theii' happiness and portion? Nay, madam, the very death of creature comforts is an evidence that the Lord liveth, and a consequence of it. As the tender-hearted parent of his ransomed family, he weighs all their pains and all their pleasures in an even balance, without per- mitting the one or the other to exceed the precise de- grees which to infinite wisdom, sovereign goodness, everlasting love, seem best for each of them. Li the execution of his fatherly plan, particular members of his family may feel present anxiety and tribulation : yet the consideration of liis hand in it, and that he liveth, should have a sweetly silencing influence, making us, with reason, hold our peace, or (with Eli) say, "It is the Lord, let him do what he pleaseth." I am sensible TO A FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE. 107 these things are sooner said than done : but tlie Lord liveth, the source of covenant grace, for directing and enabhng to such exercise all the weary travellers of hope. The crowning ingredient in this cup of Christian consolation is the blessed assurance, " and because 1 live, ye shall live also." So said our dear Immanuel ; and as sure as he said it, he will perform unto all his servants that word of grace upon which he now causes them to hope. Many circumstances in the Christian's lot wear at present a deathlike aspect, and blessings come under such disguise that the love of a Father, the gTace of a Saviour, and the accomplishment of the prom- ise are not discovered in them. But because the Lord liveth, these very circumstances, deathlike as they are, shall contribute towards their spiritual life, and, to each of them singly, issue in life eternal. Then the former things will be done away, and the immediate visions of Jesus shall banish every feeling of pain from any remembrance of foniier sorrow. Then all the chil- dren of the Idngdom shall meet, and shall live with their living Lord, no more to part from or to pain one another, to eternity. O life truly divine ! how happy the people ! how happy the person who is in such a case ! how happy they whose God is the Lord ! May your father's God be yoiu: God for ever and ever, and your guide even unto death. FROM A GENTLEMAN TO A FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE. Yours, my dear friend, I received a few posts ago, which brought me again to the house of mourning. There I fmd it much better for me to be than in the house of mirth ; and that, I am persuaded, is the most proper station for us all. It is now our time to l)e sorrowful, but our sorrow ^hall be tui-ued ijito joy. 168 TO A FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE. Nay, in the midst of our present griefs, wc are not overwhelmed with sorrow. You also join the nume- rous cloud of witnesses, while you sorrow not as those who have no hope ; w^hile you follow your dead within the vail, whither the blessed forerunner has for us en- tered ; while you look beyond your own remaining years or days to the celestial point that ends our mor- tal story, that begins oiu' immortal, amid the thousands of thousands who hunger no more, neither thirst any : for the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne doth lead them, and feed them by the living fountains of water, and God wipes away all tears from their eyes. for the lively faith of these words ! May He who gives liberality and upbraids not bestow it. He knows our weakness without it, and he knows our thorny way, that we must deny ourselves, must take up our cross and follow him. Who is sufficient for these things ? Blessed be his name, our sufficiency is of God. His word, his faithful word, stands full on our side. What- ever discom-agements from without, or from within, are against us, that word cannot fail. A¥hat then am I, who so often call it in question, and say, Doth his prom- ise fail for evermore 1 hath he forgotten to be gracious ? Indeed, when he is pleased in any measure to draw aside the vail, I can glory in my weakness, that his power may rest upon me. But when he hides his face 1 am troubled. In the day of adversity I expect sup- port ; but when I am disappointed, as I think, then my heart fails. Yet I sometimes say this is mine infirmity, there is a need-be of heaviness for a season, througli manifold temptations : and I am ashamed of my com- plaints, when I think of the Captain of our salvation crying out, as in the 22d Psalm, " Who knows the source of these strong cries and tears, from what clouds and depth of Iiiding they proceeded ?" Such grief he surely was acquainted with ; and should any of his fol- lowers think it strange that they are led in the road of sorrow 1 Should they not rather think it strange, won- drous strange, that a perpetual or everlasting darkness does not cover them ? What shall wc say of him, what TO A LADY ON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND. 1G9 shall we say to liim who was opprosse.d for our sake in the days of his flesh, wlio took on him all the waves, all the billows of Almighty wrath, that we might be delivered from them, and who now shines for onr ever- lasting light, our (lod, our glory. Let us then look unto the Author and Finisher of our faith. Let us believe that his eye is on us, pondering all our paths, caring for us even to the numbering of the hairs of our head, and thinking towards us thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give us an expected end. All things are delivered unto him of the Father. Will lie not acquiesce? Will we not say amen and amen? Yes, we will : througli his grace, you will join with vours in all aflection, &c. A LETTER WRITTEN TO A LADY ON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND, BY THE REV. JOHN SUMMER- FIELD, A.M. My dear Mrs. W. must not suppose, that, because I have not broken silence until now, I had no sympathy with her under her late bereavement. Job's friends " sat by his side upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him ; for they saw that his grief was great." But then surely there is a lit time when the minister of peace should break the seal of his commission, and fulfil its mandate, " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God." It would in- deed be impertinent in any other tlian the Prince of life, who was about to give back to the disconsolate widow her greatest earthly treasure, to say " weep not ;" oh no ! it is permitted to us to weep, and even to sorrow many days ; but then " let us not sorrow as do others ; for if we believe that .Tesus died and rose again, even so also them that sleep in .Tesus shall (iod bring wiih him ;" " he is not dead llien, but sleepelh ;" and .lesus will vet awake him out of sleep, lie has long known 15 TI 170 TO A LADY ON TUf! DEATH OF HER HUSBAND/ tliat his Redeemer liveth, and that in tlie latter day, he should stand again upon the earth, and see him eye to eye — him whom he loved, thongh he saw him not, and in whom he long rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. Oh, how I sliould have desired to have been with him, when the shadows of time were flitting away, and the glories of eternity bursting upon his open vision ! Oh, how I should have longed to have witnessed in him with what peace a Christian can die ! I might have learned a lesson, which is now lost to me for ever. But you witnessed it ; nay, you were the witness of life, Avhich was a daily lesson ; the last chapter of which might be summed up in one line, " I live ; yet not I, — but Christ liveth in me." He felt that for him to live was Christ ; but now he finds that to die is gain. Hap- py soul ! thy days are ended. He will not return to us, but we shall go to him ; he has gained the prize before us ; but then, although we have it not as yet, " there is laid up for us a crown of righteousness, which the liOrd will give at that day." And though we should long be kept out of the possession of it, rust will not corrupt it ; it is a crown of glory that fadeth not away ! Oh, that you and yours may gain the blissful shore as safely as he has done, without any shipwreck of Aiith and of a good conscience ! and oh, my God ! remember me ! When your feelings will permit, I should be glad to hear some particulars of the last moments of my much beloved and never-to-be-forgotten friend. He was among the first of my friendships in New-York, both as to my early acquaintance with him, and the value I placed upon his disinterested kindness to me ! I am bereaved indeed ; one after another is sunnnoned away, and I am left to hear tales of m'o. It sounds like a knell unto myself, " be ye also ready, for at such an liour as ye think not, the Son of man cometh." Fare- well, my dear friend, and may he, who knows how to comfort them that are in trouble, pour in the oil and the wine into your broken, bleeding heart. Yours in tlic Lord, J. Summerfjeld, DR. LETTSOWrf I^ETTER. HI DR. LETTSOM'S LETTER TO LADY ANN ERSKINE, ON THE DEATH OF THE RT. HON. SELINA.COUN- TESS OF HUNTINGTON. Dear Lady Ann Erskine, I deeply sympathize with thee and all the family in Christ, in the removal of that evangelical woman, so lately among us, the Coimtess of Iluntington. Your souls were so united, and your afTections so endeared together, that I cannot but feel in a particular manner on thy account ; lest the mournful state of thy mind may undermine thy constitution, and endanger a life spent in mitigating the painful sullerings of the body of our deceased friend while living. Her advanced age and debilitated frame had long prepared my mind for an event, which has at length deprived the world of its brightest ornament. How often have we, when sitting by lier sick-bed, witnessed the faithful composure with which she has viewed this awful change ! Not with the fearful prospect of doubt — not with the dreadful appre- hension of the judgment of an offended Creator : hers was all peace within ; a tranquillity and cheerfulness, wliich conscious acceptance alone could convey. How oficn have we seen her, elevated above the earth and earthly things, uttering this language — "My work is done ; I have nothing to do but to go to my heavenly Father !" Let us, therefore, under a firm conviction of Iter felicity, endeavour to follow her as she followed the Kcdeemer. Let us be thankful that she was preserved to advanced age, with the perfect exercise of her men- tal faculties ; and that, under long and painful days and nigl Us of sickness, she never repined ; but appeared constantly animated in prayer and thankfulness for uiuuterable mercies she experienced. When I look back upon the past years of my attendance, and cou- 172 '10 A LADV OS HIE nect with it the multitudes of others whom my profession has introduced nie to, I feel consohition in acknowledg- ing, that of all the daughters of allhction, she exhibited the greatest degree of Christian composure that ever 1 witnessed ; and that submission to divine allotment, however severe and painful, which nothing but divine aid could inspire. ******** In her last illness, I never heard her utter a desire to remain longer on earth. A little before she died, slie repeatedly said in a feeble voice, just to be heard, " I shall go to my Father this night !" adding, " Has God forgot to be gracious 1 or is there any end of his loving- kindness ?" On this day she conversed a little on tlie subject of sending missionaries to Otaheite, in the South Seas, in the pious hope of introducing Christianity among that mild but uninformed race of people ; indeed, her whole life seemed devoted to one great object — the glory of God and the salvation of liis creatures. J. C. Lettsom, REV. DR. DODDRIDGE'S LETTER TO A LADY, ON THE DEATH OF HER BROTHER. My heart is so full of the thought of your dear brother's death, tlrat I know not how to command my pen to any other subject. Believe me, madam, I see that heavy affliction in many of its most aggravated circumstances. But need I mention them to you, who have, no doubt, a much tenderer sense of them? Or need I mention those common consolations which Christianity affords us under all our calamities, or those which the circum- stances of the case before us do most peculiarly admit? I know you have already given them their weight, and are well furnished with consolations on this head ; hav- ing been obliged, by such aillictions, frequently to have DEATH OF HER BROTHER. 173 recourse to tliem. No doubt, you have often been thiukino^, that, as we are Christians, we are not lo be so much concerned about the dilTerent kinds of provi- dential dispensations which we are now exercised with, whellier of a prosperous or a calamitous nature, as about the correspondency of our behaviour to them. Tile law of Christianity, not to say of nature itself, re- quires that we should not only be silent and composed, but clieerful and thankful under our alilictions. This, indeed, is what the generality of Christians are wanting in ; but that is no proof that it is an irrational or im- possible demand, but rather a sublime attainment in religion. It is evident that nothing can be more grate- ful to God, and edifying to the world than to see that a Christian, under the heavy pressure of calamity, can not only restrain the excess of sorrow, and suppress those indecent complaints which the corruption of na- ture would be too ready to suggest, but can mingle praises with his tears, and love and rejoice in his hea- venly Father, even when he feels the smart of his cor- recting rod. Let me suggest a few liints upon this head, which you will easily enlarge upon in your own thoughts to greater advantage. God hath seen fit to take away your brother ; and is not this a proper season to be thankful that you so long enjoyed him? No doubt, you have been thinking of his character in the most advantageous particulars of it ; and perhaps have considered it as a great aggravation of your allliction, that you have lost so excellent a brother. But may you not now press in each of these afflicting thoughts to subserve the purposes of thankfulness and joy ? Do not you reflect, that the more excellent he was, the more surprising was the goodness of God in bestowing him upon you, and continuing him so long to you ? When you say, it may be with tears in your eyes, " How few are there in the world that could have sus- tained such a loss !" what is it but to say in other words, how few are there in the world, on whom God ever bestowed so valuable a friend as he gave to me? XiCt common sense judge, whether thut be matter of 15* 174 TO A LAI>Y ON THE complaint or praise. You .should be thaukiui lo God, that for so many years you had a constant share in his prayers. 'I'he more rehgious he was, the more fre- (}iicntiy and earnestly he prayed, and the more favour- ably did God regard him. No doubt but his prayers are still in remembrance before God ; and as he most frequently asked those blessings for you, wliich are of the most excellent and permanent nature, mucli of the good effect of these addresses may be still behind. You know not how many relreshing visits of his grace, how many favourable interpositions of his providence, how high a degree of lioliness in this world, and of usefulness in the next, God may now be prepared to bestow upon you, in answer to the prayers of this ex- cellent man. Once more, let the providence of God in removing your brother be improved to a more thankful sense of his goodness in continiring your surviving brother, whose lot is cast so much nearer to you. If you take the matter in this view, it brings your passions to a balance ; for you can never imagine, that ^we are to lament any degree of affliction in a greater propor- tion than we rejoice in an equal degree of comibrt. You see, madam, you have cause of thankfulness, though your brother be dead ; and that many of the considerations with which you feed your sorrows arc capable of being made subservient to the nobler exer- cises of gratitude and love. But what if I should ad- vance still further, and say that the death of your brother should not only allow you to be thankful lor your other mercies, but itself should be made the mat- ter of praise ? I think I should say no more than the apostle hath said, Avhen he exhorts us " in every thing to give thanks." Nay, 1 should say no more than I am confident your deliberate reason must subscribe to. Are you not the servant of God, and have you not yielded yourself to him ? Was it not the business of the last sacrament day ? And are you not renewing the dedication every day of your life ? When you con- secrate yourself to God, you give up every separate interest of your own ; and resolve all into this one great DEATH Of lli:-Ii BROTHER. 175 petition, tliat ''his iiamo may be olorirtcd," particularly in all you are, and all you have. Now do you imagine that (iod woultl have rcmoveil so eminent a riuint, so useful a minister, anil alllicted a numerous and religious family, as well as a multitude of sympathizing friends, if he had not known that it was for his glory ? When you have been saying, as you have daily said, " Father, iliy will be done;" were you not then praying for the loss of your dearest comforts, even for the death of your brother, and of every other friend you have, upon supposition that it were the will of God? You cer- tainly were ; unless you meant to say, Let thy will be done, so far as it is agreeable to my own. Now, I leave you to judge, whether tlic answer of prayer be the matter of complaint or praise. I know it is very dilTicult to apprcliend how such a dispensation as this should be for "the glory of God." But have wc known so little of the nature of the great God, as to question the wisdom of his providential dispensations, merely because they appear unaccountable to us? We use ourselves to a contracted way of thinking and rea- soning upon this head ; much like a small congregation in the country, that fancy the interest of religion is very much damaged by the removal of a useful minister from them, though it be to a sphere of much more extensive service. Because this earth is our habitation, we fondly imagine it to be a place of very great importance ; whereas if we consider the number and excellence of the inhabitants of heaven, we must be forced to con- fess, that it is very probable those revolutions may be very serviceable to the whole creation, which are detri- mental to some particular part, in its highest and most important interest. And of this nature I take the re- moval of excellent ministers to be, especially in the prime of their strength and usefulness. I may add, that there are certain views, both with relation to him and yourself, which will farther evince yoiu' obligations to thankfulness. With regard to your brother, yoii easily apprehend a foundation for thankfulness, though perhaps you have not considered his present happiness 176 TO A LADY ON THE in that particular view. You believe, with the greatest reason, that death was inconceivably advantageous to liim, and that now he is " absent from the body, he is present with the Lord." Now, with all your tender Iriendship, can you question whether it be your part to rejoice whh him in that glory and felicity which he now enjoys ? Or can you imagine that you are to be so much concerned that he is not with you as to forget to rejoice that he is with God ? Was it more for you to lose a brother than for the apostles to part wiih Christ himself? And yet he says the very same tiling which shocked you so much a few lines above ; " if ye loved me, ye would rejoice because I go to the Father." AVhen your brother was alive, you did not only take pleasure in him when he was in the same house and room with yourself, but at the distance of above a hun- dred miles. You rejoiced to think that he was well ; that he was surrounded with agreeable friends, fur- nished with plentiful accommodations ; and, above all, laying himself out with vigour and success in the ser- vice of our great common Master. And will you en- tertain so mean an idea of the preparation which the God of heaven and earth has made for the supreme happiness of his beloved children, as to question whether he be now raised to more valuable friends, more delightful entertainment, and a sphere of more extensive service ? I am confident, madam, you would have been thankful from your heart for your brother's recovery ; and would it have been a greater mercy to him to have been raised from a languishing illness to a state of confirmed health, amid the vanity and misery of this state of mortality, than to be exalted to immor- tal health and vigour, amid the entertainment of angels, and the enjoyment of God? Or has so generous- spirited a person as yourself begun now to imagine, that you are to be thankful on the account of none but yourself? So far from that, you think it a great matter of thankfulness, and no doubt you are frequently prais- ing God for it, that you have an excellent brother left, jso agreeably settled, so universally respected, aiid &o DEATH OF HER BROTHER. 177 zealously and bucccssfully cng;i;iod in tlio iiiOfei honour- able service. But is it not more, that you have another brother among the blessed anp^els in heaven? How diiVerent are the services, which the one is paying to the throne ot" grace, and the other to the throne of glory ! When they are both engaged, it may be at the very same moment, in the contemplation of God and Divine things, how vastly do you tliink the younger brother has now the advantage of the elder? May there not be the same difierence in accuracy, solidity, and manly pleasure, between the thoughts of the blessed saint in heaven and the philosopher, and the roving imagination of a little infant, in which reason is just beginning to dawn. Certainly, it should be a constant source of delight to us, amid all the disturbances and calamities of life, that we may have so many friends in lieaven, whose joy and glory shouhl be to us as our own. You must now give me leave to add, that you have reason to be diankful for this dispensation of provi- dence, not only from a principle of zeal for God and friend- ship to your brother, but from a regard to your own per- sonal interest. The gospel teacheth its sincere pro- fessors to regard every providence as a mercy, when it tells them that "all things shall work together for good to them that love God ;" and therefore, though you could not see mercy in this particular stroke, religion would nevertheless require you to believe and acknow- ledge it. But cannot you yourself perceive some mercy in it? Has it not, as you are pleased to intimate in your letter, an apparent tendency to wean your affec- tions from this world, and to raise them to the heavenly felicity ? Do you not find the thoughts of dcaUi more tolerable, morg delightful to you, since God has removed so powerful an attractive from earth, and translated it to heaven ? Nay, do you not fmd it a considerable ex- ercise of patience to be absent, it may be for several years, from diis dear, happy brother, whose image con- tinually presents itself to your mind in so much (ho more charming a light, as your heart is melted with grief for his death? Now, if an indiflerencc to ihia H3 178 MR. WHITFIELD TO A FRIEND. Avorld and a most, affeciionate desire of a happy im- mortality be an important branch of the Christian tem- per ; if the Scriptures are so frequently inculcating it upon us, and we so continually praying for the increase and lamenting the deficiency of it, that we should be thankful for those providences which, of all others, have the greatest tendency to promote it ? I write these things, madam, not with the coldness of a stranger, but with the tender sympathy of a friend ; and with so much the greater sympathy, as since I began this letter, I have lost a very agreeable and valuable person out of my congregation, with some cir- cumstances which render the stroke ^peculiarly sur- prising and afflicting. May God teach us so to bear and improve all our afflictions, both in ourselves and our friends, that we may have reason to reflect upon them as the most valuable mercies of our lives ; and that they may fit us for that happy world, where we shall be above the need, and then undoubtedly above the reach of them ! REV. MR. WHITFIELD TO A FRIEND, ON THE DEATH OF HIS BROTHER. Dear Sir, Having heard the melancholy news of your brothers death, I could not help sending you a line, to let you know how much I am concerned. Indeed, 1 cannot say I am so much grieved on his account, as for that sorrow which the loss of so valuable a^'outh must ne- cessarily occasion to all his relations. No ! I rather envy him in his blessed condition. He, unquestionably, is divinely blessed, while we are still left behind to wrestle with unruly passions, and by a continued look- ing inuo Jesus, and running in our Christian race, to press forward to that high prize, of which he, dear youth, is now m full fruition. These are my true sen- DR. WATTS TO MADAMK SEWAIX. 179 timents about his deatli ; I leave you to jiulgo, tlion, whether I had need be concerned on his account ; and surely was it to be put to your choice, whether so reh- gious a young man should live or die, no one could be so cruel as to wish to detain him from his wishod-for glory. Be not then too much concerned at his death, but let us rather learn that important lesson which his wliole life taught us, " that there is nothing comparable to an early piety." I thought to have spent many agreeable hours with him in Christian and edifying conversation, when I came to Gloucester ; but he is gone to more agreeable company, and long before now has joined the heavenly choir. I shall only add, that as your brother imitated our blessed Saviour in his life, so I pray God he may re- semble him in his death, and be a means, like his be- loved Redeemer, of reconciling all former animosities, which is the hearty wish of, Dear Sir, Your sincere friend and humble servant, G. W. REV. DR. WATTS TO MADAM SEWALL, UPON THE DEATH OF HER CHILDREN. MADAAf, Yesterday, from Mr. Sewall's hand, I received the favom* of several letters from my friends in New Eng- land, and a particular account of diat sharp and surpris- ing stroke of providence, tliat has made a painful and lasting wound in your soul. He desired a letter from my hand, directed to you, which might carry in it some balm for an alllicted spirit. # # * « But the loss you have sustained is of a tenderer and more distressing kind. Yet let us see whether there are not sufllcient springs of consolation, flowing all around you, to allay the smart o( so sharp a sorrow. 180 DR. WATTS TO MADAM SEWALL, And may the Lord open our eyes, as he did tlie eyes of Hagar iii tlic wilderness, to espy the spring of water when slie was dying with thirst, and her child over- against her, ready to expire. Gen. xxi. 19. Have you lost two lovely children? Did you make them your idols ? If you did, (Tod has saved you from idolatry. If you did not, you have your (4od still, and a creature cannot be miserable who has a God. The little words, " my God," have infinitely more sweetness than " my sons" or " my daughters." Were they very desirable blessings? \oiir God calls you to the nobler sacrifice. Can you give up these to him at his call ? So was Isaac, when Abraham was required to part with him at God's altar. Are j'ou not a daughter of Abra- liam? Tiien imitate his faith, his self-denial, his obedience, and make your evidences of such a spiritual relation to him shine brighter on this solemn occasion. Has God taken them from our arms ? And had you not given them to God before ? Had you not devoted them to him in baptism? Are you displeased that God calls for his own ? Was not your heart sincere in the resignation of them to him ? Show then, madam, the sincerity of yoiu* heart in leaving them in the hand of God. Do you say they are lost? Not out of God's sight and God's world, though they are gone out of our sight and oiu* world. " All live to God." You may hope the covenant of grace has sheltered them from the second death. They live, though not with you. Are you ready to complain you have brought forth for the grave ? It may be so, but not in vain. Is. Ixv. 25, " They shall not labour in vain, nor bring forth for trouble (i. e. for sorrow without hope) ; for they are the seed of the blessed of the Lord, and their offspring with them." This has been a sweet text to many mothers, when their children are called away betimes. And the prophet Jeremy, ch. xxxi. 15, 17, has very comfortable words to allay the same sorrows. Did you please yourself in what comforts you might have derived from them in malurer years? But, madam, do you consider suihcieiiily, thai God has taken them away DR. WATTS TO MADAM SEWALL. 181 from the evil to come, and hid tliem in the grave from theprevaiUng and mischievous temptations of a degene- rate age ? My brother's wife in London has buried seven or eight children, and among them all her sons. This thought has reconciled her to the providence of God, tluit the temptations of young men in this age are so exceedingly great, and she has seen so many of tiie young gentlemen of her acquaintance so shamefully degenerate, that she wipes her tears for the sons slie has buried, and composes her soul to patience and thankfulness, with one only daughter remaining. Per- haps God has by this stroke prevented a thousand Mnknown sorrows. Are your sons dead ? But are all your mercies dead too ? A worthy husband is a living comfort ; and may God preserve and restore him to you "^ilh joy ! Food, raiment, safety, peace, liberty of religion, access to the mercy-seat, hope of heaven ; all these are daily matters of thankfulness. Good madam, let not one sorrow bury them all. Show that you are a Christian by making it appear that religion has supports in it which the world doth not know. What can a poor worldling do, but mourn over earthly bless- ings departed, and gone down with them comfortless to the grave ? But methinks a Christian should lift up his head, as partaking of brighter hopes. May the blessed Spirit be your comforter, madam. Endeavour to employ yourself in some business or amusement of life continually, lest a solitary and inactive frame of mind tempt you to sit brooding over your sorrows, and nurse them to a dangerous size. Turn your thoughts often to the brighter scenes of heaven and the resur- rection. Forgive the freedom of a stranger, madam, who desires to be the humble and faithful servant of Christ and souls. Isaac Watts. P.S. — Madam, you have so many excellent com- forters around you, that I even blush to send you what I have written ; yet since the narrowness of my paper has excluded two or three thoughts which may not be impertinent or useless on this mournful occasion, I will 16 182 ON THE DEATH OF AN ONLY CHILD. insert them here. You know, madam, the great and blessed God had but one son, and he gave him up a sacrifice and devoted him to a bloody death out of love to such sinners as you and I. Can you show your gratitude to God in a more evident and acceptable manner than by willingly resigning your sons to him at the call of his providence ? This act of willing resignation turns a painful affliction into a holy sacri- fice. Are the two dearest things taken from the heart of a mother? Then may you ever set so much the loser to this world, and you have the fewer dangerous attachments to this life. It is a happiness for a Chris- tian not to have the heart-strings tied too fast to any thing beneath God and heaven. Happy is the soul who is ready to remove at the Divine summons. The fewer engagements we have on earth, the more we may live above, and have our thoughts more fixed on things divine and heavenly. May this painful stroke be thus sanctified, and lead you nearer to God. I. W. PATHETIC LETTI:R ON THE DEATH OF AN ONLY CHILD. There is a nestling worm in every flovv^er along the path of life ; and, w^hile we admire the spreading leaves and unfolding blossoms, the traitor often consumes the I'oot, and all the beauty falls. You are not surprised that my letter opens with a serious reflection on the fleeting state of earthly pleasures. This my frequent theme will continue, I believe, till my eyes are shut upon this world, and I repose upon a bed of dust. The son of sorrow can teach you to tremble over every blessing you enjoy. Pay noto to thy living friend the tear which was reserved for his grave. I have under- gone one of the severest trials human nature can expe- rience. I have seen a dear and only child, the little companion of all my hours of leisure, the delight of my ON THE DEATH OF AN ONLY CHILD. 183 eyes, tlie pride of my licart, struggling in agonies of pain, wliilc 1 poured over him my tears and prayers to heaven in vain. I have seen him dying — dead — col- lined. I have kissed him in his shroud — I have taken the last larev.-ell — I have heard the bell eall liim to the silent vault, and am now no more u lather ! I am stabbed to the heart, cut to the brain. . Hasret latevi Ifitlialis firundo. — ViRnri-. With what tender care was the boy nursed. How often has he been the pleasing burden of my arms. Wiiat hours of anxiety for his welfare have I felt. What endearing amusements for him invented. Amia- ble was his person, sensible his mind. All who saw, loved him — all who knew him admired a genius which outran his years. The sun no sooner rose than it M-as eclipsed. No sooner was the flower opened than it was cut down. My mind eagerly revolves every moment of past joy. All the parental afiections rush like a torrent and overwhelm me. Wherever I go, I seem to see and hear him ; turn round, and lose him. What does this world present but a long walk of misery and desolation ? In tears man is born — in agonies he dies. What fills up the interval ? Mo- mentary joys and lasting pains. Within, a war of passions ; without, tumult and disorder reign. Fraud, oppression, riot, rapine, bloodshed, murder, fill up the tragic tale of every day ; so that a wise man must often wish to have his curtain dropped, and the scene of vanity and vexation closed. To me, a churchyard is a pleasing walk. My feet often draw towards the graves, and my eyes turn towards the vault, where all tiie con- tentions of this world cease, and where the weary are at rest. " I praise," with Solomon, " the dead who are already dead, more than the living who are yet alive." I will call reason and religion to my aid. Prayers and tears cannot restore my child, and to God who made us we must submit. Perhaps he was snatclicd in mercy from some impending wo. In life he might 184 ON THE DEATH OF AN ONLY CHILD. have been miserable, in death he must be happy. I Avill not think him dead ; I will not consider him con- lined in the vault, or mouldering in the dust — but risen ; clad M'ith true glory and immortality ; gone to the regions of eternal day, where he will never know the loss of parents, or of a child ; gone above the reach of sorrow, vice, or pain. That little hand, which was so busy to please here, now holds a cherub's harp. That voice, which was music to my ears, warbles sweet symphonies to our universal Father, Lord, and King. Those feet, which ran to welcome me from toil, and my arms received, while 1 held him up, and for the blessing used to thank my God, now traverse the starry pavement of the heavens. The society of weak, im- pure, unhappy mortals is exchanged for that of powerful, pure, blessed spirits ; and his fair brow is encircled with a never-fading crown. Shall I then grieve that he, who is become an angel, grew not to be a man ? Shall I drag him from the skies ? Wish him in the vale of sorrow ? I would not, my dear boy, interrupt thy bliss. It is not for thee, but for myself I weep. I speak as if he was present. And who can tell but that he sees and hears me? "Are there not ministering spirits?" And our great Milton says, " Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth, Unseen, both when we sleep eoid when we wake." Perhaps, even now, he hovers over me with rosy wings ; dictates to my heart, and guides the hand that writes. The consideration of the sorrows of this life, and the glories of the next, is our best support. Dark are the ways of providence while we are wrapped up in mor- tality; but, convinced there is a God, we must hope and believe that all is right. May the remainder of my days be spent in a faithful discharge of the duty I owe to the supreme Disposer of all events ! I am but as a pilgrim here, have trod many REV. DR. PAYSOX TO HIS SISTER. 186 rough paths, and drank many bitter cnps. As my days shorten, may the Sun of righteousness brigliten over me, till I arrive at the new Jerusalem, where tears are wiped away from every eye, and sorrow is no more ! May I descend into the grave, from which I have lately had so many " hair-breadtli 'scapes," in peace ! May 1 meet my angel boy at the gate of death ; and may his hand conduct me to the palace of eternity ! These are the fervent prayers of Your afflicted friend, T. J. A LETTER OF REV. DR. PAYSON, WRITTEN TO HIS SISTER A SHORT TIME BEFORE HIS TRIUMPH- ANT DEATH. Dear Sister, Were I to adopt the Hgurative language of Bunyan, I might date this letter from the land of Beulah, of which I have been for some weeks a happy inhabitant. The celestial city is full in my \'ie\v. Its glories beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its odours are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the river of death, which now appears but as an insignifi- cant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he approaches, and now he fills the whole hemisphere ; pouring Ibrth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun ; exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering with unut- terable wonder Nvhy Cod should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem altogether inadequate to my wants ; I want a whole heart for every separate emotion, and ^ whole tongue to express that emotioUi 186 REV. DR. PAYSON TO MIS SISTER- But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings ; why not speak only of our God and Redeemer ? It is because I know not what to say. When I would speak of them my words are all swallowed up. I can only tell you what effects their presence produces, and even of these I can tell you but very. little. O my sister, my sister ! could you but know what awaits the Christian ; could you know only so much as I know, you could not refrain from rejoicing, and even leaping for joy. Labours, trials, troubles, would be nothing ; you would rejoice in afflictions and glory in tribulations ; and, like Paul and Silas, sing God's praises in the darkest night and in the deepest dungeon. You have known a little of my trials and conflicts, and know that they have been neither few nor small ; and I hope this glorious termina- tion of them will serve to strengthen your faith, and elevate your hope. And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold on your Christian course but a few days longer, and you will meet in heaven, Your happy and aflfectionate brother, Edward Payson. HAPPY DEATHS. 187 HAPPY DEATHS. " The chamber where the good man meets his fate, Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite on the verge of heaven." YOUNO. " As the rivers roll the smoothest the nearer tliey ap- ])roach the ocean, as the sun appears most glorious uhcn setting, so it is \vith the Christian." — H'ear his expiring language ! Farewell, all terrestrial scenes ! I know that my Redeemer liveth. What a happy change ! Earth for heaven, time lor eternity, conflict for victory, sorrow for uninterrupted joy ! Into thy hands, O immortal Saviour, I commit my spirit. Thine it is to conduct me through the valley, thine to raise to glory, and thine to crown me with eternal joy. Mr. Haliburton, when dying, thus addressed those around him : — " Here is a demonstration of the reality and power of faith and godliness. I, a poor, weak, and timorous man, once as much afraid of death as any one ; I, who was many years under the terrors of death, came, in the mercy of God, and by the power of his grace, composedly and with joy to look death in the face. I have seen it in its paleness, and all the circum- stances of horror that attend it. I dare look it in the face in its most ghastly shape, and hope to have, in a little time, the victory over it. Glory, glory to him ! — what of God do I see ! I have never seen any thing like it. The beginning and end of religion are wonderfully sweet ! I long for his salvation, — I bless his name ! I have found him ! I am taken up in blessing him ! I am dying, rejoicing in the Lord ! O, 1 could not have believed that I should bear, and bear cheerfully as I have done, tiiis rod which hath lain on me so long. This is a miracle. Pain without pain ! 18» HAPPY DEATHS. You see man dying, a monument of the glorious power of astonishing grace !" — Some time after, he said, — " When I shall be so weakened as not to be able to speak, I will give you, if I can, a sign of triumph when I am near to glory." — This he did : for when one said, " I hope you are encouraging yourself in the Lord," not being able to speak, he lifted up his hands, clapped them, and quickly after expired. Mrs. Frederica Hayne in her illness, gave certain evidence of her unshaken faith in Christ, her assurance of an interest in the Redeemer, and her firm hope of eternal life. She told her physician, "it was for 'her children's sake she consulted ; for her own part, she was quite ready to depart : death to her was nothing more than a transition from one apartment to another." A short period before her triumphant departure, she re- peated, with a peculiar emphasis, the beautiful expla- nation of the second of faith by Luther, and with these words her happy spirit departed to another world, there to see His face " of whom the whole family of heaven and earth is named." Jeremiah Evarts in the near prospect of death showed a most happy tranquillity. He had that peace of God which passeth all understanding. Who would not think himself rewarded for the toils and sufferings of a whole life, yea, of a thousand years, by what this faithful servant of God was permitted to enjoy just be- fore his decease, when God caused so wonderful a light to shine upon his soul. Seeming to be nearly ex- hausted, he very tenderly expressed his affection for his Saviour. Soon after, he burst forth with expres- sions of rapture which cannot be described. " Praise him, praise him, praise him in a way which you know not of." And when it was said, " You will soon see Jesus as he is, and will then know how to praise him," he exclaimed, " Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful glory ! We cannot comprehend ! Wonderful gloiy ! I wiU HAPPY DEATHS. 180 praise him, I will praise him ! Wonderful — glory — Jesus reigns." EARLY PIETY EXEMPLIFIED IN THE HAPPY DEATH OF FRANCES ANN MVERS. On the 26th day of December, 1827, Frances Ann Myers, the only child of our brother and sister, George R. and Lucy Ann Myers, of Richmond, Va,, took her joyful passage from this world of sin and sorrow to tlic bosom of her Father and her God. For some hours previous to her death she had been silent and composed. Her father discovering that she became a little restless asked the cause. She replied, " I wish that man to leave the room," alluding to a gentleman who had called to see her ; who, upon discovering that she was not willing to unbosom herself in his presence, shook hands with her and retired. She turned to her afflicted mo- ther, who sat upon the bed near her, and said, " Mother, I want to bid you good-by." Her mother, with a heart overwhelmed with grief, and eyes streaming with tears said, " Where are you going, my dear child ?" She, with a countenance serene and sweet, said, " To heaven." — " Do you want to go to heaven ?" said her mother. She replied, " Yes, I am going to see Jesus." She then turned to the other side of the bed, where her aunt Hopkins stood, and said, " Good-by, Aunt Clary." — Her aunt said, " Where are you going, my dear ?" — She replied, " To heaven, to see my little cousins," alluding to two of Major Hyde's little children, who had died a few days before. She then called her father, and taking him by the hand said, " Farewell." — He kissed her, and asked if she felt any pain. She said, " None ;" then calling her grandfather, she bid him farewell, and said, " Are you coming to ^heaven ?" After this she called separately upon all who were in the room, not forgetting three little coloured children, and took a final and affectionate leave of them. Her uncle Hopkins, who stood at the foot of the bed, looking on with mingled emotions of astonishment, 190 HAPPY DEATHS. grief, and joy, approached her, and said, "Do you know me ?" She said, " Yes." — " Where are you going, my Frances ?" — She replied, " To heaven." " I will try to come after you," said her uncle. She looked at him and said, " Are you not happy ?" He replied, " Are you happy, my dear ?" She, M'hh a countenance strongly indicating the feelings of her heart, said, " Yes." She then sent for her three little cousins, near her own size, who she supposed were gone to the house of wor- ship ; and when they came, she kissed them and bid " good-by." After having made these solemn arrange- ments, with a countenance unspeakably sweet and com- posed, and a soul filled with peace and joy, she fell asleep in Jesus, aged 8 years, 7 months, and 20 days. John Kerr. POEMS. FRIENDS SEPARATED BY DEATH. Friend after friend departs ; Who hath not lost a friend 1 There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end ! Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying none were blest. Beyond the flight of time, — Beyond the reign of death,— There surely is some blessed clime Where life is not a breath ; Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upwards and expire. There is a w^orld above, Where parting is unknown ; A long eternity of love, Form'd for the good alone : And faith beholds the dying here Translated to that glorious sphere ! Thus star by star declines, Till all are past away ; As morning high and higher shines To pure and perfect day : Nor sink those stars in empty night. But hide themselves in heav'ns own liglit. MONTOOMERT. 192 ON THE DEATH OV A FRIEND. DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN. How sweetly parts the Christian sun, Just like the summer monarch set, 'Mid cloudless skies his journey done. To rise in brighter regions yet. Oh, where the Christian ends his days. Lingers a lovely line of rays, That speaks his calm departure blest. And promises to those who gaze, The same beatitude of rest. Edmeston. ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. Thou art gone to the grave ! but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb : Thy Saviour has pass'd through its portals before thee. And the lamp of his love is thy guide thro' the gloom ! Thou art gone to the grave ! we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side ; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may die, for the sinless has died ! Thou art gone to the grave ! and, its mansion forsaking Perchance thy weak spirit in fear lingered long ; But the mild rays of paradise beam'd on thy waking, ^ And the sound which thou heardst was the seraphim s song ! ON THK DKATir OF MRS. NFWTON. 19^ Thou art gone to the grave ! but we will not deplore thee, Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian, and guide ; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee. And death has no sting, for the h>aviour has died ! Bishop Heber. ON THE DEATH OF MRS. NEWTON. She dropp'd a tear, and grasp'd my hand, And fain she would have spoke ; But well my heart could understand The language of her look. Farewell ! it meant ; a last adieu i I soon shall cease from pain ; This silent tear I drop for you ! We part — to meet again. I said, " If, leaving all below, You now have peace divine, And would, but cannot, tell me so, Give me at least a sign." She rais'd and gently wav'd her hand, And fill'd me with a joy, To which the wealth of sea and land, Compar'd, were but a toy. * * * * # * Fainter her breath, and fainter grew, Until she breath'd her last : The soul was gone before we knew The stroke of death was past. Soft was the moment, and serene, That all her sufferings clos'd ; No agony or struggle seen, No feature diseompos'd. 17 I 19'4 ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT DAUGIiTER. The parting struggle all was mine, " 'Tis the survivor dies :" For she was freed, and gone to join The triumph of the skies. John Newton. •ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT DAUGHTER. Sweet babe, she glanc'd into our world to see A sample of our misery, Then turned away her languid eye To drop a tear or two, and die. Sweet babe, she tasted of life's bitter cup, Refused to drink the potion up ! But turn'd her little head aside, Disgusted with the taste, and died. Sweet babe, she listen'd for a while to hear Our mortal griefs, then turn'd her ear To angels' harps and songs, and cried, To join their notes celestial, sighed, and died. Sweet babe no more, but seraph now, Before the throne behold her bow ; To heavenly joys her spirit flies, Blest in the triumph of the skies ; Adores the grace that brought her there Without a wish — without a care. That wash'd her soul in Calv'ry's stream, That shorten'd life's distressing dream. Short pain — short grief — dear babe, was thine, Now joys eternal and divine. Yes, thou art fled, and saints a welcome sing, Thine infant spirit soars on angel's wing. Our dark aff'ection might have hoped thy stay ; The voice of God has called his child away. •^ ON THE DEATH Of A CHILD AT DAYBREAK. 195 Like Samuel, early in the temple found, Sweet Rose of Sharon, plant of holy ground ; Oh ' more than Samuel blest, to thee 'tis given, The God he serv'd on earth, to serve m heaven. Cunningham. ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD AT DAYBREAK. By THE LATE REV. R. CECIL " Let me go, for the day breaketh." Cease here longer to detain me. Fondest mother ! drowned m wo ; Now thy kind caresses pain me ; Morn advances— let me go. See yon orient streak appearing. Harbinger of endless day ; Hark ! a voice the darkness cheermg, Calls my new-born soul away. Lately launched, a trembling stranger. On this world's wild boisterous Hood ; Pierced with sorrows, tossed with danger, Gladly I return to God ! Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee, Now my trembling heart find rest ; Kinder arms than thine receive me. Softer pillow than thy breast. Weep not o'er these eyes that languish, Upward turn'd towards their home ; Raptur'd, they'll forget all anguish, Wiule they wait to sec thee come. 1 3 196 A mother's grief. There, my mother ! pleasures centre — Weeping, parting, care, or wo, Ne'er our Father's house shall enter — Morn advances — let me go. As through this calm, this holy dawning Silent glides my parting breath, To an everlasting morning — Gently close my eyes in death. Blessings endless, richest blessings. Pour their streams upon thy heart ! (Though no language yet possessing,) Breathes my spirit ere we part. Yet to leave thee sorrowing rends me, Though again his voice I hear ; Rise ! May every grace attend thee, Rise ! and seek to meet me there ! A MOTHER'S GRIEF. To mark the sufTerings of the babe, That cannot speak its wo ; To see the infant's tears gush forth. Yet know not why they flow ; To meet the meek uplifted eye. That fain would ask relief, Yet can but tell of agony, — This is a mother's grief. riirough dreary days and darker nights To trace the march of death To hear tlie faint and frequent sigh. The quick and shortened breath ; To watch the dread last strife draw near, And pray that struggle brief. Though all is ended with its close, — This is a mother's grief. THE ORPHAN. 197' To see in one short hour decayed The liopc of future years ; To feel how vain a father's prayers, How vain a motlier's tears ; To think the cold grave now must close O'er wliat was once tlie chief Of all the treasured joys of earth, — This is a mother's grief. Yet when the first wild throb is past Of anguish and despair, To lift the eye of faith to heaven, And think my cliild is there, — This best can dry the gushing tear. This yields the heart rehef, Until the Christian's pious hope O'crcomes a mother's grief. Dale. THE ORPHAN. Upon my father's new-clos'd grave Deep lay the winter's snow ; Green, now, the grass waves o'er his head, And tall the tomb-weeds grow. Along life's road no parent's hand My homeless footsteps led ; No mother's arm in sickness sooth'd And rais'd my throbbing head. But other hearts, Lord, thou hast warmM With tenderness benign ; And in the stranger's eye 1 mark The tear of pity shine. 17-* 198 RESIGNATION. The stranger's hand by thee is mov'd To be the orphan's stay ; And, better far, the stranger's voice Hath taught us how to pray. 7'hou putt'st a new song in our mouth, A song of praise and joy : O may we not our lips alone, But hearts, in praise employ ! To Him who little children took, And in his bosom held, And, blessing ttiem with looks of love Their rising fears dispell'd ; To him, while flow'rs bloom on the bank Or lambs sport on the lea ; While larks with morning hymns 'ascend Or birds chant on the tree ; To him let ev'ry creature join In prayer, and thanks, and praise : Infants their little anthems lisp, Age, hallelujahs raise ! Grahame. RESIGNATION. When musing sorrow weeps the past, And mourns the present pain ; How sweet to think of peace at last, And feel that death is gain ! 'Tis not that murm'ring thoughts arise, And dread a Father's will ; Tis not that meek submission flies, And would not sufler still. A BROTH£R IN ADVERSITY. 199 It is that heaven-taught faith surveys The path to realms of hght ; And longs her eagle plumes to raise, A.nd lose herself in sight. It is that hope with ardour glows To see Him face to face, Whose dying love no language knows Sufficient art to trace. It is that harass'd conscience feels The pangs of struggling sin ; Sees, though afar, the hand that heals And ends her war within. Oh ! let me wing my hallo w'd flight From earth-born wo and care ; And soar beyond these realms of night, Mv Saviour's bliss to share. ^ Noel. A BROTHER IN ADVERSITY. When every scene this side the grave Seems dark and cheerless to the eye, How sweet in such an hour to have A brother in adversity ! When father, mother, all are gone,— When bursts affection's closest tie, — How sweet to claim, as still our own, A brother in adversity ! When frowns an angry world unkind, And hope's delusive visions fly. How sweet in such an hour to find A brother in adversity ? 200 LONGING FOP. HEAVEN. And who is this whom still we find, When father, mother, husband die, Still faithful, tender, loving, kind? A brother in adversity ! Jesus ! my Lord ! ah, who can trace Thy love unchanging, full, and free ! Or tell the riches of thy grace. Thou brother in adversity ! Ye trav'Uers in this wilderness, Who somewhat of his beauty see, For ever, oh ! for ever bless This brother in adversity 1 Anon. LONGING FOR HEAVEN. When on the verge of life I stand, And view the scene on either hand, My spirit struggles with its clay. And longs to wing its flight away. Where Jesus dwells my soul would be, It faints my much-lov'd Lord to see ; Earth, twine no more about my heart, For 'tis f\ir better to depart. Come, ye angelic envoys, come. And lead the willing pilgrim home ; Ye know the way to Jesu's throne. Source of my joys, and of our own. That blessed interview, how sweet ! To fall transported at his feet, Rais'd in his arms to view his face, Thro' the full beamings of his grace* THE HEAVENLY REST. 201 As with a seraph's voice to sing, To fly as on a cherub's wing, Performing with unwearied hands A parent Saviour's higli commands. Vet, with these prospects full in sight, I'll wait thy signal for my flight ; For while thy service I pursue, I fl.nd my heaven begun below. THE HEAVENLY REST. There is an hour of peaceful rest To mourning wand'rers given ; There is a tear for souls distress'd A balm for every wounded breast ; 'Tis found above in heaven ! There is a soft, a downy bed, 'Tis fair as breath of even ; A couch for weary mortals spread. Where they may rest the aching head. And find repose in heaven ! There is a home for weary souls By sin and sorrow driven ; When toss'd on life's tempestuous shoals, Where storms arise, and ocean rolls. And all is drear — 'tis heaven ! There faith lifts up the tearful eye. The heart with anguish riven ; And views the tempest passing by, The evening shadows quickly fly, And all serene in heaven ! 13 202 THE SAINT IN HEAVEN. There fragrant flow'rs immortal bloom, And joys supreme are given ; There rays divine disperse the gloom ; Beyond the confines of tlie tomb Appears the dawn of heaven ! Tappan. THE SAINT IN HEAVEN. Escap'd from earth, I'm tried no more ; Life's hard probation now is o'er; I've joined the assembly of the blest ; Zion I've reach'd, and now I rest. Ah ! the sweet peace that fills my soul I But how shall I express the whole ? Eternity itself will fail To sound its depth, or to reveal How blest I am ! what joy I feel ! Salvation to th' eternal King, With saints in white I ceaseless sing. I see the J^amb ; and oh, the bliss ! No joy in heaven doth equal this ; But God himself, the Spirit too, Unveil their glories to my view. Rapt with delight, my joys above No end shall have — for God is love ! »« BLESSED ARE THE DEAD THAT DIE IN THE LORD." Hark ! a voice, it cries from lieav'n, Happy in the Lord who die ; Happy they to whom 'tis given From a world of grief to fly ! THE DEAD THAT DIE I\ THE LORD. ',203 They indeed are truly blest ; From their labours then they rest. All their toils and conflicts over, Lo ! they dwell with Christ above ; Oh ! ^vhat glories they discover In the Saviour whom they love ! Now they see him face to face, Him who sav'd them by his grace. 'Tis enough, enough for ever, 'Tis his people's bright reward, They are blest indeed who never Shall be absent from their Lord ! Oh ! that we may die like those Who in Jesus then repose ! Kelly. THE END. VALUABLE WORKS rUDLISHED BY J. & J. HARPER, 83 CLIFF-STREET, NEW-YORK, And for Sale by the principal Boyksellers in the United Slates. HISTORY OF THE JEWS. By tlxe Rev. H. II. Milinan. Iii3 vols. 1 81110. Iliiistratcdwitli original Maps and Woodcuts. "The Editors of the Family Library have been most fortunate in eii- ga«fing on this work the pen of a scholar, both classical and scriptural, and 60 elegant and powerful a writer as the Poetiy Professor. 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" In the collection of materials, the author appears to have neglected no source from which valuable aid was to be expected." — Philadelphia Daily Chronicle. "The history of the eminent impostor cannot but be a work of interest to every enlightened mind." — Pcnn. Inquirer. " We have found much to admire and commend in every preceding number of the Family Library ; but v/c believe the present will beallov.ci the place of honour." — U. S. Gazette. -_ DE3IONOIiOGY AND WITClICliAFT. By Walter Scott, Bart. 18mo. AVitU a plate. "The work is curious, inrercsting, and instructive."— f*i7ii/rcr. "This volume is most iiueresiing, and will be read Willi great pleasure by alinOHt every class of readers." — U. S. Guzittc. •• It would be difilcult to select a more interesting subject for the pen ol'a man of genius than that of popular superstitions. To say Ihat Scott has made more of it tlian any other hian could have done, is only to add another tribute to his acknowledged iire-emincuce.'' — Hostmi Statesnuin. "Tlie subject is most alluring, and the manner in which it is handled is magical." — Athenceuin. '• One of the most usclul, and certainly one of the most amusing, in the Finiily Library." — Courier. "The subject is one in which Sir Walter is perfectly at home, and is handled with that tact and ability so peculiarly his own." — Globe " We must leave this delightful volume to the delightful admiration which it will obtain, and to that consequent 'parlour window' iinmor- taliiy which it will command more surely and deservedly than any other of the writer's works." — C. Journal. •'AH the volumes of this interesting and u.seful Library should be in the hands of our youth, as they will gain much knowledge and instruc- tion from their perusal. They peculiarly lit the mind Ibr a more e.xten- sive entry on the subjects of which they treat, at a more mature period of life."— -V. Y. Encaiag Jouraal. "This work will be sought for with avidity."— -Y. Y. Standard. " It is a delightful publication."— T/wt^/i Tdler. " It hazards little to predict that this volume will prove the most pojm- lar that has yet been put forth for the public amusement and instruction." Spectator. HISTORY OP THE BIBIiE. By Rev. G. R. Gleig. Ill 3 vol.*;. ISnio. Witli a Map. "The style of it is suri)assed by no work with which we are ac- quainted : it is highly finished, perspicuous and comprehensive. His- torical and biographical facts are well stated ; tlie prominent difiicultics that present themselves to the mind of an intelligent or skeptical reader of the Bible, are boldly exhibited and ably explained ; the most plausible objections advanced by modern inlidels are answered in a very philo- sophical, learned, and conclusive manner. The author has imbodied in it a vast deal of learning and research; has discovered superior ingenuity and force of intellect, and furnished, withal, a specimen of fine writing, which must secure a most favourable reception, as well among persons of tdsie, as those who are fund of Biblical studies. A valuable introduc- tion is prelixed to the work, showing the divir.e authority and authen- ticity of tlie 8acred Volume." — Albany Tttegriipk A- Register. " Mr. Gleig's plan is very comprehensive, and, judging from the sper i- men before us, we are persuaded that it will prove fully satisfactory to a Christian people. In his inquiries and criticisms, as well as in his suggestions and speculations, Mr. Gleig is free and independent. But he never Ibrgets that it is the Bible, the Cook of Heaven, he has undertaken to elucidate." — New Montldtj Magazine. "The llev. author is one of the very best writers of the day. He has expended a groat deal of labour and research upon his suhjr?.-::, and has succeeded in giving a connected, faithful, and succinct outline of the contents of the .Sacred Volume, and in vindicating its statements from the objections of skepticism and lalse philosophy." — American Traveller. POLiAR SEAS AND REGIONS. By Professors Leslie and Jameson and Ilugli Miirray^ Esti* IStno* W^itli Maps and Engravings* " The style is familiar, concise, and comprehensive. The authors are excellent models for modern historians." — Albany Evenitig Journal. "A work from such hands on such a subject cannot fail to be both intcrestin;? and valuable." — N. Y. Eveninf^ Post. " The three eminent men who have produced this compilation have rendered a great service to the cause of philosophy and knowledge." — New- York Commercial Advertiser. " The writers are gentlemen of first-rate standing in the scientific world, and the subject is one to which every curious mind is attached by a sort of involuntary impulse." — .V. Y. Journal of Commerce. " It is well calculated for seamen and landsmen, the learned and unin- formed, and for both sexes of every age." — American Traveller. " This volume is rei)lote with interest ; it exhibits a succinct, yet com- plete and connected view of the successive voyages made to the Arctic Regions." — Monthly Repository. " This volume presents an exceedingly entertaining and instructive view of all that is known of the Polar Seas and Regions." — Fhiladel. Chroyucle. "The volume now before us not only enters into an account of the (climate, the animal and vegetable productions, the geology of the Polar Regions, and the details of the whale fishery ; but presents the public with highly interesting accounts of the ancient voyages to the North, the early as well as the more recent voyages in searcii jftlie North-East and North-West Passages, together with the late voyages directly towards the North Pole."— iVfu- Monthly Magazine. " V\'e recommend this entertaining volume." — T~uth Teller. " We are of opinion that this will prove one of the most popular num- bers of this justly popular wovV:'— Courier S,- Enqidrer. L.IFE AND TIMES OP GEORGE IV. IVilli Anec- dotes of Distingiiislacd Persons, ^y tJie Rev. George Croly. Witli a Portrait. ISmo. " Mr. Croly has acquitted himself very handsomely. His subject is one of much interest, and he has treated it with unusual impartiality. The author's style is chaste, classical, and beautiful, and it may be taken as a model of fine writing. It is worthy of his genius and his educa- tion." — Mercantile Advertiser. " This number is from the eloquent and powerful pen of the Rev. George Croly. It promises much entertainment and instruction. The name of the writer is a sufficient passport to the public attention." — Com. Adv. " This is an interesting volume, blending most beautifully instruction with amusement." — Long Island Patriot. " iMr. Croly is a man of talent , and can \vrite well. There is proof of this in the volume before us. The reflections that naturally arise out of the subject are philosophical and just; and the sketches of character of the leading men and ministers are drawn with a bold and vigorous hand." — The AtheruBum. ''The portraits of the Prince's friends are in the best style, and sketched with impartial freedom. Fox, Rurke, Sheridan, Erskine, Cur- ran were of the splendid galaxy, and the characteristics of each arc well preserved in Mr. Croly's pages." — Gcntleynan's Magazine. " Mr. Croly is not merely a fine writer, hut a very powerful one. His outline is as bold and broad as his colours arc glowing. lie writes like a man well ac(iuaintcd with his subject." — Eclectic Review. [0 DISCOVERY AND ADVENTURE IN AFRICA. By Professor Jamcsou* James Wilson^ Esq.) and Iliit^u Mtu-rny^ Esq. Willi a map and cn^-aviii^s. ISiiio. "The names of the distinguished iiidivichials by whom the volume has been prepared, olFer a sunipient pledge for the faithful and accomplished exccuiioa of the work; and the field of their labours is one of almost un- rivalled attraction for whatever is new, strange, or mysterious in histo- rical narrative, or bold and perilous in adventurous exploit." — The Atlas. " From what we have read, we think it will add another very interest- in? and useful volume to the Family Library. This work we believe will be interesting to every class of readers, especially to the philanthro- pist and Christian." — N. Y. Evangelist. " It embraces the whole field of modern travels in Africa, and, like TDlar Seas and Regions,' is deserving the attention cf every one who pretends to keep pace with the progress of science and discovery." — Jour, of Commerce. " la this volume is comprised much useful and entertaining knowledge concerning a country which has long been the subject of vague report and conjecture ; the theatre of visionary monsters, and the scene of the most extravagant romance." — N. Y. Standard. " The names of the authors will satisfy the public that this is a work wliich will command their admiration and credence. It is a sterling addition to that most excellent series, the Family lAhxaxy.'"— Albany Daily Advertiser. " In the present work wo have a i)C'-fect history of the discoveries which have been attempted, from the time of Herodotus until the final attempt of Ren6 CaiJle ; it is replete with interest."— iV. Y. Courier £,■ Enquirer. LIVES OF EMINENT PAINTERS AND SCULP- TORS. By Allan Cunningliam, Esq. In 3 vols. 18mo. With Portraits. " We advise all those of our readers who have any respect for our re- comiiicndution, to read these three volumes from beginning to end ; and we are confident of the thanks of such as shall be induced by our advice \.9 procure for themselves so great a:i enjoyment." — N. Y. Mirror. " We would recommend these volumes as being replete with interest- ing incident and valuable historical matter. They are worthy of a promi- nent place in the Ubrary of the scholar, and are of that description of works which may be placed in the hands of the younger branches of society, with the assurance that they will impart both moral and intel- lectual improvement." — Boston Masonic M'rror. " The lives of distinguished artists, written by so popular an author, can hardly fail of being duly appreciated by the reading community." — .V. Y. Constellation. " This is one of the best written and most instructive books of the scries to which it belongs." — .V. Y. American. "The whole narrative is of a lively and alluring kind, flowing in its language, and enriched with ceaseless anecdote." — ^V. Y. Atlas. " The lives of Hogarth, &c. furnish a fund of entertaining and charac- teristic anecdote, of which the author has known how to avail himseff with skill."— .V. Y. Evening Post. "So much as an accomplished author, an admirable field of exertion, and a bcautif^il typography, can do or promise for a work, so much we can safely accredit to the volumes before us." — Journal of Commerce. [-] HISTORY OF CHIVAIiRY AND THE CRUSADES. By G. F» .K« JamcS) Esq* "With, au Eugi*aving. 18 mo. ~~ " The present volume may safely be pronounced an ornament to the literature of the day, and Mr. James be esteemed a writer of great clear- ness and strength." — N. Y. Standard. " The author of this work has done the public a service, which we think will be duly appreciated." — Christian Herald. "The period of the world to winch this history relates is one most interesting to readers generally." — N. Y. Mercantile Advertiser. "A more interesting, instructive, and amusing volume has not been laid upon our table for many a i\Ay."— Boston St.atatman. " Mr. James is well known as an agreeable writer ; and the subjects of this volume are such as can scarcely fail to prove both amasinij and interesting." — N. Y. Daily Advertiser. " The execution of this work is, like the rest of the Family Library, elegant. The subject is of no little mterest ; and those who have read 'Richelieu' and 'Daniley' will oe prepared to think favourably of any production from the same pen." — Constellation. " The admirers of Mr. James's peculiar style of composition as exhibited in his powerful productions of * Darnley,' ' Piichelieu,' ' l)e L'Orme,' &.c have nov/ an opportunity to witness his equally successful elforts in another department, where all classes of readers may unite in commend- ing the subject, the treatise, and the author." — American Travcikr, " The historical details embraced in this volume are extremely curious and amusing ; and the accounts of ancient customs pertaining to the vari- ous orders of knighthood engaged in the holy wars, furnish much pleasant reading, as well as food for contemplation on the obsolete follies of'inan- kiud."~iV. Y. Eoeniiig Journal. lilPB OF MARY, €J,UEEN OF SCOTS. By H. G. Bell, Esq. In 3 vols. ISmo. "Witii a Portrait. "It is decidedly the most interesting account we have ever seen of that lovely and unfortunate being. We have always/t7< that Mary was inno- cent "of the great crimes charged against her by her furious and deadly enemies : but our understanding was never before convinced. It was with a feeling of eager joy, that we, for the first time in our lives, admit- ted the full conviction of her innocence. The book is written with much candour " — Massachxisetts Journal. " We find it imbued with all the interest of a romance, without de- stroying the authenticity of the history. iMary was indeed an attractive subject for the pen of a lively and gallant v/riter. In such hands, her youth, her beauty, her station, and her misfortunes must have furnished admirable themes on which to descant and wake up the sympathies of the reader." — Pennsylvania Inquirer. "The life of the unfortunate queen is a subject of strong interest.' — Constellation. " The style of the author is succinct and clear, and is a good specimen of historic composition."- -Standard. "The reader will be pleased to learn that the life of Mary has been written anew, by one who appears, both in temper and talent, cxtremcLv well qualified for the task." — -V. Y. Atlas. " We have heretolbre made extracts from tnis work, which must have given our readers a favourable opinion of the merits of the wriole. W - have no diliiculty in recommending a subject so interesting to tlie public " —Albion. i.81 ANCIENT AND MODERN EGYPT. By tlic Kev. M. Russell, liL.D. Witli a Map and Eiigravin;;ai.' ISino* " It is luiiUy i)()ssiblc to imagine a volume of more various interest than this." — Ballimote American. _ " A work that cannot be too warmly commended to the reading pub- lic." — Providence American. " All that is known of Egypt is condensed into this history ; and the readers of it will lind themselves well repaid for their labour and money." — New- Haven Advertiser. " This volume is the most i7itercstins:,aH well as the moat valuable, of the numbers vet published." — Long Inland Star. "This is oiie of tlie most valuable of the series of the Family Library." — Bads^efs Weekly Messenger. . " The inlormalion respecting the present state of this interesting coun- try will be found peculiarly valuable." — ycw-Yor/c Mirror. " The work is written in a very happy style, and presents a mass of knowledge of the most useful and instructive character, collected together by grcnt industry and reficaTcXi.'"— Baltimore Republican. " We think the writer has performed his task with a smgular degree of ability and clearness." — Tribune. '• This is a volume of great interest."— .Vcte-ForA: Standard. " An accouia of tliis ancient kingdom, connected as it is with events of the greatest importance both in sacred and profane history, cannot fail to be interesting to every person who has a taste for this species of know- ledge."— A't if- yor^■ Daily Advertiser. " This work is fully elZ^/o?i. " No work has for a long period been published here so deserving of praise and so replete with interest." — American Traveller. " The history is well written, and is presented in a convenient and suc- cinct form." — New-York Standard. " The present volume will prove, we think, highly acceptable to ttie public." — Evening Post. " It will require no recommendations to induce the reading community to possess themselves at once of this valuable and authentic work."— New- York Evening Journal. " It will be found an exceedingly interesting yNork."— Constellation. "It treats of a country and a people that attract at this nioment the attention of the whole world ; and here there is not an individual wiio is not inlciTHted in the stru^cle which the brave Poles arc now engaged in for liberty and home." — Mercantile Advertiser. • I'J] DOMESTIC DUTIES; ov liistmctiohs to Married Ladies, on the Mauapeineiit or their Household, and the Jlcgulaiion of their Conduct in the various relations and duties oC Married Life Bv r»Irs. WILLL\iM PARKES. FiRh AinL-rlcan from the last London Edition, with Notes and Alterations adapted to the American Reader. In 1 vol. 12mo. " The volume before us is one of those practical works, which are of ireUl value and utility. It is a perfect vade viecum for the young married Iddy, who may resort to it on all questions of household economy and eti- (luette.— TJiere is nothing omitted with which it behooves a lady to be acquainted" — yeing Passtiges from tlie Diary of a late Pliysiclau. In >3 vols. ISmo. "The scenes the author iloscribes are trnly ad'ocliiig — tliey possess a thrillinir interest. No one who reads these sketches, taken from real life, will have occasion to look through works of fiction for scenes to excite and amuse him. The vivacity and g;ood laste discovered in the autlior's manner, and the impressive moral given by his affecting narratives, v.'ill render iiis work highly acceptable to the public." — S. Religiovs Tclfsrayh. "It amuses, e.xciles our sympathies, lets us into the knowledge of liie depths of the human soul, and sets forth the value of the ' balm of Cilcad and the physician iherc' "—Christian hitdligencer. "They are written in a masterly style, calculated to attract end fix the attention of all classes of readers, and we think they will produce a salu- tary effect."— .V. E. Baptist Register. "We have read this work with unusual interest. It is evidently the production of a powerful writer." — Wesley an M. Visiter. " Exceedingly well written and entertaining eketches." — Evening Port. "They are drawn with a masterly hand, and ajiparently from real life. Many of them are not only interesting but instructive, and fitted to con- vey important moral lessons." — Jovrnal of Commerce. " In style, language, and matter, these sketches are uncqualle'l by any thing of the kind we have met with, and arc evidently from the pea of one who unites to the acquirements of tlie scholar, a profound knowledge of human nature."— Coi/r?>r & Enqvirer. " It is a collection of sketclies from real life portrayed i.n a most vivid and masterly mannor."— 7Jrt//i/ Sentinel. "The sketches are drawn with a masterly pen, and the moral has not been forgotten." — Standard. THE INVALID'S ORACLE Containing Directions for Invigorating and Prolonging Life; Peptic Precepts, poiniing out agreeable and effectual methods to prevent and relieve Indigestion, and to regulate and strengthen the action of the stomach and bowpls, »V-c. ic. By WILLIAM KITCHINER, M.D. From the sixth London euition. Revised and improved by Rev. T. S. BARRETT, M.D., cf New-York. 18mo. "It is replete with valuable information to all those "who deem the study of health essential to human happiness." — Albion. " It presents a very handsome appearance, and contains ' much of deep concern' to the invalid as well as the healthful man." — Standard. " We find in it many valuable directions and maxims well meriting the .study of all invalids, and a'l who consider themselves liable at any time of life to the assaults of disease." — Evening Jo2i.rnal. The treatists contained in this work are worthy of general attention, and are w^ell calculated to instruct, benefit, and interest, not only the inva- lid, but the man of health."— iV. Y. Gazette. " It must be a popular work." — Pennfujlvania Inquirer. "The work is well known to the public for its information, am.iise- mcnt, and interest." — Conritr