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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<s  entitled  to  the 
extensive  patronage  they  have  received  (Vom  the  jiublic.  The  subjects 
selected  are,  generally,  both  useful  and  interesting  in  themselves,  and  are 
treated  in  a  i)op"i!ar  and  agreeable  manner  :  the  style  is  clear,  easy,  and 
flowing,  adapted  to  the  taste  of  general  readers,  for  whom  the  books  arc 
designed.  The  writers  are  mostly  men  of  high  rank  in  the  literary  world, 
and  appecr  to  possess  the  happy  talent  of  blending  instruction  with 

amusement. We  hesitate  not  to  commend  it  to  the  public  as  a  valuable 

series  of  works,  and  worthy  a  place  in  every  gentleman's  library."— 3fag'a- 
ziiie  of  Usp/ul  and  Entertaining  Knoidedgc. 

"We  take  the  opportunity  again  to  recommend  this  valuable  series  of 
volumes  to  the  public  patronage.  We  know  ol'no  mode  in  which  so  much 
entertaining  matter  may  be  pi-ocured,  at  so  ciicap  a  rate,  as  in  the  Family 
Library."— J.V.  Y.  Daily  Adveriiser. 

"The  Family  Library  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  person.  Thus 
far  it  has  tieated  cf  subjects  interesting  to  all,  condensed  in  a  perspicuous 

and  agreeable  style We  have  so  repeatedly  spoken  of  the  merits  of  the 

design  of  this  work,  and  of  the  able  manner  in  which  it  is  edited,  that  on 
this  occasion  wc  will  only  repeat  our  conviction,  that  it  is  worthy  a  place 
in  every  library  in  the  country,  and  will  prove  one  of  the  mo.st  useful  as 
it  is  one  of  the  most  intere^iing  pviblications  which  has  ever  issued  from 
the  Am<»rican  press." — N.  Y.  Courier  if  Enquirer. 

"It  is  needless  at  this  late  period  fo  commend  to  public  attention  and 
encouragement  the  collection  of  delightful  wo-ks  now  in  a  course  of  pub- 
lication under  the  appropriate  title  ot^  the  Family  Library."— JV.  Y.  Eve- 
ning Joicrnnl. 

"  We  have  repeatedly  expressed  our  unwavering  confidence  in  the 
merits  of  this  valuable  series  of  popular  and  instructive  books.  The 
Family  Lil)rary  has  now  reached  its  sixleeiuii  number,  with  the  inoreasnig 
favour  of  the  enlightened  Aineririin  pitblio  ;  and  we  have  heard  of  but 
one  dissenting  voice  among  the  periodical  and  newspaper  publishers  who 
have  freqi:ently  noticed  and  applauded  the  plan  and  the  execution  of  the 
Family  Library.  A  censure  sr>  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  pron<ulgato  ther.i,  richly  deserve  the  thanks  and  patronage 
of  all  enlightened  communiti<!S  in  the  country.  The  Family  Library - 
promises  to  be  a  most  useful  and  cheap  repository  of  the  most  important 
events  of  profane,  ancient,  and  ifjodern  history.  —  A  series  of  volumes, 
well  conducted,  and  published  v/ith  such  stirring  contents,  cannot  (nil  to 
surpass  all  dry  encyclopedias,  or  difilise  and  elaborate  histories  or  biogra- 
pt;e8,  miserably  translated,  and  exl/^nded  to  the  very  stretch  of  vert 
9oa\xj."—FiiHadtli!lua  Qazftte. 


FAMILY    CLASSICAL   LIBRARY. 

"A  greater  dcHideratum  to  the  English  reader  cannot  well  be  brought 
lo  public  notice."— t'e/i's  Weekly  Messenger. 

"  The  Family  Classical  Library  may  be  reckoned  as  one  of  the  most 
Instructive  aeries  of  works  now  in  the  course  of  publication."— Cam&ridg^e 
Chronicle. 

"A  series  of  works  under  the  title  of  the  Fa>nily  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  0  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 ! 
— 0  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  0  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  0  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 
<leprived  of  those  objects,  however  dear,  which  werq 


DISSUASIVES    FROM    EXCESSIVE    SORROW.  Ill 

SO  iiKiny  clogs  and  encumbrances  in  your  journey  to 
lieaven  ? 

Consideration  3.  However  early  or  unexpected  u-as 
the  dissolution  of  your  friends,  you  enjoyed  them  even/ 
moment  allotted  by  Heaven.  Before  your  lamented  re- 
lative was  born,  the  time  of  your  mutual  enjoyment  and 
your  separation  was  unalterably  fixed  in  the  decrees 
of  Heaven.  To  you,  indeed,  this  period  was  a  secret 
while  your  friend  lived.  But  noAV  it  is  made  manifest 
by  tlie  event.  Nor  was  it  possible  that  his  life  could 
be  either  protracted  or  abbreviated  a  single  moment. 

This  assertion  is  amply  justified  by  the  explicit  tes- 
timony of  Scripture ;  particularly  by  that  passage  in 
Job  (xiv.  5),  "  His  days  are  determined ;  the  number 
of  his  months  are  with  thee ;  thou  hast  appointed  his 
bounds,  which  he  cannot  pass."  A  firm  conviction  of 
this  truth  will  conduce  much  to  your  peace,  and  will 
fchield  you  from  many  a  useless  and  agonizing  reflection. 

How  common  for  survivors  to  wish  that  this  had  been 
done,  and  that  omitted !  How  common  to  think,  tiiat 
but  for  sucli  mistakes,  or  oversights,  the  dear  husband, 
wife,  or  child  had  still  lived  !  But  no  ;  the  Lord's  time 
had  come ;  and  all  things  concurred  to  accomplish  his 
pleasure. 

Still  let  it  be  remembered,  that  the  decree  of  God 
nowise  excuses  voluntary  neglects.  These  things  he 
overrules  to  accomplish  his  own  purposes ;  but  he  does 
not  approve  them.  Yet  the  consideration  of  his  govern- 
ing providence  affords  great  relief  in  view  of  those  un- 
avoidable mistakes  which  sometimes  occur  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  sick. 

Parents !  you  never  had  a  thought  that  your  dear 
children  were  horn  too  soon.  Why  then  should  you 
regret  that  at  the  appointed  hour  and  moment  they 
should  be  delivered  by  death  into  a  better  life?  Nor 
let  any  say  that  the  death  of  their  children  is  premature. 
Those  whom  God  intends  to  bring  early  to  heaven  he 
can  ripen  for  that  blessed  region,  in  ways  inconceivable 
to  us.  Though  cut  ofi'  in  the  bud,  they  may  be  still 
mature.     Remember  that  the  seasons  of  the  year  are 


112  TO    MOURNERS. 

not  nioic  wisely  or  more  unalterably  lixcd,  iliaii  the 
seasons  of  your  comlbrl  in  ciiiidren  and  other  earthly 
i'riends. 

Consideration  4.  Whatever  may  he  your  grief  for  the 
death  of  your  children^  it  might  have  been  still  greater 
from  their  life.  Bitter  experience  led  a  good  man  once 
to  say,  It  is  better  to  weep  for  ten  cliildren  dead,  than 
lor  one  living.  What  a  heart-piercing  ailhction  was 
David's  !  "  Behold,"  says  he,  "  my  son,  which  came 
forth  of  my  bowels,  seeketh  my  life."  How  many 
parents  have  had  their  lives  imbittered,  or  shortened,  by 
the  misconduct  of  children! 

True,  your  love  to  your  cliildren  will  scarcely  admit 
the  thought  of  this  as  possible  in  your  own  case. 
They  appeared  innocent  and  amiable ;  and  you  fondly 
believed,  that  through  your  care  and  prayers  they 
would  have  become  the  joy  of  your  hearts.  But  may 
not  Esau,  when  a  child,  have  promised  as  much  com- 
fort to  his  parents  as  Jacob?  Probably  he  had  as 
many  of  their  prayers  and  counsels.  But  as  years 
advanced,  he  despised  their  admonitions,  and  fdled  their 
hearts  with  grief.  As  a  promoter  of  family  religion, 
who  ever  received  such  an  encomium  from  the  God  of 
heaven  as  Abraham  ?  How  tenderly  did  the  good  man 
pray  for  Ishmael !  "  O  that  Ishmael  might  live  before 
thee  !"     Yet  how  little  comfort  did  Ishmael  afford. 

Alas  !  in  these  days  of  degeneracy,  parents  much 
more  frequently  witness  the  vices  of  their  children  than 
their  virtues.  And  even  should  your  cliildren  prove 
amiable  and  promising,  you  might  live  to  be  the 
wretched  witnesses  of  their  sufferings.  Some  parents 
liave  felt  unutterable  agonies  of  this  kind.  This  intro- 
duces a 

5th  Consideration.  God  may  have  taken  the  lamented 
objects  of  your  affection  from  the  evil  to  come.  When 
extraordinary  calamities  are  coming  on  the  world,  he 
frequently  hides  some  of  his  feebler  children  in  the 
grave.  Isa.  Ivii.  1,  2.  Surely,  at  such  a  portentous 
period,  it  is  happier  for  such  as  are  prepared  to  be 
lodged  in  that  peaceful  mansion,  than  to  be  exposed  to 


DISSUASIVES    FROM    EXCESSIVE    SORROW.  113 

calamities  and  distresses  here.  Tlius  intimates  the 
prophet  Jeremiah  (xxii.  10),  "Weep  not  for  the  dead, 
neither  bemoan  him ;  but  weep  sore  for  iiim  that  goeth 
away ;  for  he  shall  return  no  more,  nor  see  his  native 
country."  It  was  in  a  day  when  the  faith  and  patience 
of  the  saints  were  peculiarly  tried,  that  the  voice  from 
heaven  said,  "  Write,  blessed  are  the  dead  which  die 
in  the  Lord,  from  henceforlh." 

Are  not  troubles  approaching  now?  Do  not  the 
clouds  gather  blackness  ? — your  friends  are  privileged 
to  die,  while  you  are  left  to  conflict  with  the  storms  of 
life.  Now,  if  troubles  come,  your  cares  and  fears  will 
be  fewer,  and  your  own  death  more  welcome.  By  one 
merciful  dispensation  God  provides  for  their  safety,  and 
your  own  easier  passage  to  them.  In  removing  your 
friends  beforehand,  he  seems  to  say  to  you,  as  to  Peter  : 
"  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now :  but  thou  shalt 
know  hereafter."  'I'he  eye  of  Providence  looks  much 
farther  than  yours.  Probably  it  would  be  more  difficult 
for  you  to  lea>'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<rh  to  smite  Job  in  his  estate,  his  cluldren,  and 
his  persSn,  because  he  hoped  this  would  give  hmi 
an  advantasre  to  poison  his  mind  with  blasphemous 
thoufrhts.     "Do  this,  and  he  will  curse  thoe  to  thy  lace. 

Sometimes  Satan  excites  in  the  afflicted  soul  despond- 
in<r  thoughts.  "  My  hope,"  says  the  afflicted  prophet, 
"  fs  perished  from  the  Lord."  Sometimes  he  suggests 
hard  thouohts  of  the  divine  conduct ;  and  the  suflerer 
is  led  to  imagine  his  afllictions  to  be  without  a  parallel. 
Sometimes  he  infuses  murmuring  thoughts,  and  some- 
times those  which  are  athcisUcaL  "  \enly,"  says  the 
Psalmist,  "I  have  cleansed  my  heart  in  vain,  and 
washed  my  hands  in  innocence."  o,-       i 

Thus  Satan  obtains  advantage  over  the  atlhcted 
Christian.  For  though  these  things  are  his  grief  and 
burden,  and  therefore  will  not  be  imputed  lor  his  con- 
demnation, yet  they  rob  him  of  peace,  and  obstruct  hun 
in  duty.  They  cause  him  to  misimprove  his  affliction, 
and  to  harden  others  in  sin.  Beware,  then,  lest  by  ex- 
cessive sorrow  you  give  place  to  the  devil 

Consideration  15.  By  inordinate  grief  you  dishonour 
God  and  religion.  In  the  time  of  trouble,  many  eyes 
are  upon  vou.  Atheists  and  scoffers,  says  one,  when 
they  see  a'suilering  Christian,  are  apt  scornfully  to  ask, 
Where  is  your  God  ?  What  then  will  they  say,  should 
they  hear  you  unbelievingly  cry.  Where  is  our  God  ? 
Will  they  not  exultingly  exclaim.  This  is  their  boasted 
religion !  what  can  it  do  for  them  in  their  extremity  ? 
Wlfere  now  are  the  rich  and  precious  promises  of  which 
they  have  talked?  If  they  have  a  treasure  m  heaven, 
why  are  they  so  dejected  and  unhappy  ? 

Oh  Christians  !  the  world  have  eyes  as  well  as  ears. 
If  your  deportment  in  trouble  is  like  their  own,  they 
wUl  ihuik  the  same  of  your  principles.     Whatever  you 
F3 


124  lO    MODKNLKS. 

may  lalk  ol  (lOil  ami  heaven,  if  your  uriel'  for  the  loss 
of  worldly  comforts  is  as  great  as  theirs,  they  will  be- 
lieve your  hearts  arc  supremely  devoted  to  the  same 
objects  as  theirs.  Thus,  too,  the  precepts  of  your  Sa- 
viour respecting  contentment  in  all  conditions  will  be 
viewed  as  mere  speculations,  impossible  to  be  reduced 
to  practice.  Indeed,  the  gospel  at  large  will  be  dises- 
teemed,  as  little  calculated  to  influence  the  mind,  or 
comfort  the  heart. 

Endeavour,  then,  to  convince  the  world  that  religion 
makes  a  real  and  essential  diiference  between  man  and 
man  ;  and  that  it  consists,  not  in  empty  speculation,  or 
a  little  outward  strictness,  but  in  hmiiility,  meekness, 
superiority  to  the  world,  and  heavenly-mindedness. 
And  let  these  graces  display  themselves  in  your  sub- 
missive and  cheerful  deportment  under  trials.  Why 
has  God  implanted  these  graces  in  your  hearts,  but  that 
he  may  have  the  honour  and  you  the  benefit  of  them, 
in  the  time  of  your  trouble  ?  Should  these  be  sup- 
pressed, and  nothing  but  pride,  passion,  and  earthliness 
of  mind  be  manifested  amid  your  altlictions.  Oh,  how 
will  you  womid  religion,  and  dishonour  ■  the  glorious 
name  by  which  you  are  called !  This  thought  must 
pierce  a  gracious  heart  deeper  than  any  outward 
calamity. 

Consideration  16.  You  know  not  how  many  mercies 
are  imhosomed  in  this  affliction.  The  children  of  God 
have  often  foimd  their  severest  trials  their  richest  bless- 
ings. This  would  be  still  more  frequently  the  case, 
were  they  more  careful  to  improve  those  trials.  David 
could  say,  "  It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afilictcd." 
May  not  affliction  be  as  good  for  you  as  for  David  ? 
It  will,  if,  like  his,  it  be  sanctified.  You  needed  this 
rod.  Perhaps  you  saw  the  need  of  some  awakening 
providence.  If  not,  the  Lord  did.  He  did  not  smite 
you  till  faithfulness  and  love  required  it. 

You  incessantly  deplore  your  loss.  Every  recollec- 
tion of  the  dear  departed  object  fdls  your  heart  \vith 
grief,  and  your  eyes  witli  tears.  All  this  proves  tliat 
llic  aillietion  was  needful.     For  docs  it  not  emphatically 


DISSUASIVES    FROM    EXCKgSlVE    SORHOW.  125 

declare  that  your  attachment  was  extreme,  and  mat  the 
friend  you  have  lost  liad  a  wrong  place  in  your  heart? 
And  should  God  leave  you  thus  ?  Should  he  permit 
this  earthly  object  to  engross  your  affections,  and  steal 
away  your  heart  from  himself?  This  he  could  not  do, 
and  love  you.  The  greater  your  impatience  imder 
aflliction,  the  greater  your  need  of  it.  What  if,  by  this 
stroke,  God  should  awaken  you  from  your  pleasant  but 
perilous  slumber — pillowed  as  you  were  upon  this 
idolized  creature.  Were  not  this  better,  far  better,  than 
for  him  to  say,  "Let  him  sleep  on.  He  is  joined  to 
idols  :  let  him  alone.  He  has  left  the  fountain ;  let 
him  continue  at  the  broken  cistern." 

AVhat  if  God  should  now  so  effectually  discover  to 
you  the  vanity  of  every  created  enjoyment,  as  that 
never  more  your  heart  and  hopes  shall  fasten  on  them 
as  before  1  Formerly  you  talked  of  tlie  vanity  of  crea- 
tures. Now  you  see  it,  you  feci  it.  Is  not  this  mercy 
indeed  ! — to  be  cured  of  your  false  and  dangerous  ex- 
pectations from  creatures  ;  to  have  your  judgment  of 
thejn  rectified,  and  your  affections  to  them  moderated  ; 
to  have  yoiu:  wandering  heart  reclaimed  to  your  God, 
your  lost  communion  with  him  restored,  your  neglected 
duties  revived  ?  These  are  greater  mercies  than  to 
liave  your  friend  again.  Surely  you  will,  in  time,  and 
to  eternity,  adore  the  hand  m  Inch  has  removed  the  ob- 
structions between  you  and  your  God.  Now  you  can 
pray  more  constantly,  more  aflectioiralely,  more  spirit- 
ually than  before.  Blessed  rod,  which  buds  and  blos- 
soms with  such  fruits  as  these  ! 

Consideration  17.  Your  ajjliction^  severe  as  it  rnai/ 
serm^  is  light,  compared  icith  what  others  have  knoini. 
Your  dear  relative  is  dead.  It  is,  however,  but  a  single 
death;  and  probably  in  the  ordinary  way.  Others 
have  lost  many  friends  at  once ;  and  by  violent,  per- 
haps cruel  deaths.  The  unhappy  Zedekiah  had  his 
children  slain  before  his  eyes  ;  and  then  had  those  eyes 
(alas,  too  late !)  put  out.  A  family  in  Germany  were  once 
fcduced  to  such  extremity  by  famine,  that  the  wretcheil 
I'l* 


126  to   MOUKf^ERh. 

piireiits  were  coinpellcd  to  think  oi"  srlliiif^  one  ot".  their 
children  ior  bread  to  sustain  theniaeives  and  the  rest. 
But  atteinpthig  to  designate  the  victim,  thc^  shrmik 
from  tlic  impossible  task,  and  deternhned  to  meet  death 
altooeiher.  Contemplate  that  picture  of  horror,  Lam. 
iv.  10,  "The  hands  of  the  pitiful  women  have  sodden 
their  own  children." 

But  it  is  needless  to  resort  to  scenes  like  these. 
Many  parents,  and  some  pious  parents,  have  seen  Uieir 
children  die  awfully  stupid ;  perhaps  even  profane ; 
and  sometimes  by  the  hand  of  pubhc  justice.  Most 
who  read  this  are  unacquainted  with  such  heart-rend- 
ing alHictions.  Instead,  therefore,  of  complaining,  they 
have  reason  to  be  thankful,  and  to  adore  the  sovereignty 
which  has  so  mercifully  distinguished  them. 

Consideration  18.  If  God  he  your  God^  you  can 
sustain  no  real  loss  hy  the  removal  of  a  creature.  God 
is  the  fountain  of  all  true  comfort.  Creatures  are  but 
streams  which  convey  the  consolations  he  is  pleased  to 
impart.  If  some  of  these  streams  be  cut  off,  he  can 
bless  us  through  another  medium.  And  he  can  bless 
us  without  a  medium.  In  this  case  we  lose  nothing. 
No  comforts  are  so  sweet  as  those  which  flow  directly 
from  the  fountain.  Is  the  fulness  of  the  fountain  yours, 
and  will  you  despond  because  the  broken  cistern  is  re- 
moved ?  The  best  of  creatures  are  no  better  Cisterns 
have  nothing  but  what  they  receive  ;  and  broken  cisterns 
cannot  hold  what  they  receive.  Why  then  do  you 
mourn,  as  if  all  happiness  were  gone  ?  You  still  have 
free  aci^ess  to  the  fountain.  If  God  never  restore  the 
comfort  you  have  lost,  he  can  more  than  compensate  it 
in  himself.  And  is  not  one  glimpse  of  his  countenance, 
one  manifestation  of  his  special  love,  a  sweeter  and 
more  substantial  comfort  than  all  the  world  can  afford  ? 
Repair  then  to  the  fountain.  Though  creatures  fail, 
God  is  unchangeable,  and  all-su/Hcicnt  still. 
I  Consideration  11).  AjjUctions  often  tend  to  render 
death  more  easy.  Many  pious  persons  have  been  em- 
barrassed on  a  dying  bed  by  their  affection  and  anxiety 


I'LEAS    ULFtTED.  127 

for  fliosc  tlicy  must  leave  bchiiul.  IJiul  iioi  Cod  iv- 
iiioved  your  iclativcs  bclbrchaiKl,  your  love  to  tliciu 
might  have  caused  you  very  imduly  lo  cling  to  life. 
For  these  are  the  things  that  make  men  loath  to  die. 
It  is  much  easier  to  think  ol'  going  to  our  friends  in 
heaven,  liian  of  leaving  them  behind  us  on  earth.  The 
ihought  of  leaving  those  we  most  tenderly  love  hi  a 
deceitful,  dangerous  world,  perhaps  to  want  and  distress, 
is  painful,  and  almost  distracting. 

'I'rue,  it  is  our  duty  to  conmiit  our  fatherless  children 
and  fatherly  relatives  to  God.  And  some  have  been 
enabled  cheerfully  to  do  this  on  a  dying  bed.  Luther 
could  say,  "  Lord,  thou  hast  given  me  a  wife  and  chil- 
dren. I  have  little  to  leave  them.  Father  of  the 
fatherless,  and  Judge  of  tlic  widow,  do  thou  nourish, 
leach,  and  keep  them."  Hut  every  Christian  has  not 
liUther's  faith.  Those  then  whose  dearest  friends  have 
gone  before  them  arc  in  some  respects  privileged.  As 
their  ties  to  earth  are  weakened,  they  may  hope  to  tind 
it  less  difficult  to  die. 

Consideration  20.  You  arc  rapidly  approaching  that 
state  where  all  these  sorrows  will  be  iinhwwn.  We  now 
live  partly  by  faith,  and  partly  by  sense ;  partly  oji 
Cod,  and  partly  on  the  creature.  Soon  God  will  be  all 
in  all ;  and  we  shall  be  as  the  angels,  who  neither  marry 
nor  are  given  in  marriage.  Our  sins  and  our  sutler- 
ings  will  cease  together.  Our  glorified  relations  will 
live  with  us  for  ever.  They  will  complain  no  more. 
They  will  die  no  more.  AViththcm,  we  shall  surroinid 
the  throne  of  God,  and  drink  at  the  fountain  of  immor- 
tal felicity.  All  sorrow  will  be  swallowed  up  in  endless 
joy.  And,  Oh  Christian,  this  blessedness  is  near.  liCt 
the  thought  console  your  alllictions,  and  becalm  your 
perturbed  minds. 

in.  I  am  now  to  consider  and  refute  the  pleas  of 
immoderate  grief.  It  is  natural  for  men,  and  even  for 
Christians,  to  justify,  at  least  to  palliate,  such  excessive 
sorrow.  But  it  is  important  to  all  to  see  that  it  admits 
no  apology.  This  point  I  shall  illustrate,  chiefly  in 
reference  to  bereaved  parents,  because  this  is  the  casQ 


,128  TO   MOURNERS. 

V 

presented  in  the  text.  Ikit  the  thouf^hts  I  sliall  suggest, 
will  generally  apply  to  bereavements  at  large. 

Plea  1.  "My  child  was  a  child  of  many  prayers; 
a  Samuel,  asked  of  the  Lord ;  and,  as  I  hoped,  given 
in  anstcer  to  prayer.  But  now,  I  fear  it  was  nut  be- 
stowed in  special  mercy.  My  child  is  dead,  and  my 
prayers  seem  shut  out." 

Ansicer.  Unless  you  prayed  for  children  submis- 
sively,  you  were  wrong.  You  ought  not  to  limit  the 
Holy  One,  nor  prescribe,  nor  make  terms  with  him. 
If  you  did,  you  are  now  justly  rebuked.  But  if  you 
prayed  conditionally  and  submissively,  referring  both 
the  bestowment  and  continuance  of  the  mercy  suppli- 
cated to  the  Divine  wisdom  and  will,  then  there  is 
nothing  in  the  death  of  the  child  contrary  to  the  spirit 
and  intent  of  your  prayer. 

i  Further ;  your  prayers  may  be  answered,  though  the 
blessing  asked  be  withheld,  or  speedily  withdrawn. 
There  are  four  ways  in  which  God  answers  prayer. 
He  may  immediately  bestow  the  blessing  supplicated. 
Dan.  ix.  23.  He  may  impart  it  after  considerable  de- 
lay. Luke  xviii.  7.  He  may  withhold  the  mercy  asked, 
and  bestow  a  greater.  Deut.  iii.  25,  compare  Deut. 
xxiv.  4,  5.  Or  he  may  give  patience  to  support  the 
loss  or  want  of  it.  2  Cor.  xii.  9.  If  God  has  taken 
away  your  child,  or  friend,  and  given  you  a  meek,  quiet, 
submissive  spirit,  you  need  not  suspect  that  he  has  shut 
out  your  'prayer. 

Plea  2.  "  Mine  is  no  common  loss.  My  child  was 
singularly  beautiful,  lovely,  and  desirable." 

Answer.  Beauty  in  children  or  relations,  though  a 
good  gift,  is  a  common,  not  a  special  mercy.  It  is 
short-lived  and  vanishing,  and  often  has  proved  a  snare. 
The  souls  of  some  had  been  more  beautiful  had  their 
persons  been  less  so.  And  what  has  all  mortal  beauty 
to  compare  with  the  beauty  of  the  saints,  in  that  day 
when  they  shall  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  their  Father's 
kingdom  ?  If  your  child  or  friend  sleeps  in  Jesus,  he 
will  appear  ten  thousand  times  more  lovely  in  the  morn- 
ing of  the  resurrection,  than  ever  before, 


iL£Ah    REFUTLD.  129 

Besides,  the  more  lovely  ami  ciiga;;iing  the  object 
icmoved,  the  more  sigiuil  and  amiable  will  be  your  sub- 
mission, if  you  clicerlully  resign  it.  Had  ii  been  a 
thousand  times  more  sweet  and  engaging,  it  would  not 
have  been  too  good  to  give  to  yom-  God.  Now,  then, 
let  it  be  seen  that  your  obedience  to  his  will  can  con- 
quer the  strongest  of"  natural  aflections ;  and  that  you 
consider  patience  and  resignation  as  more  desirable 
than  the  sweetest  of  earthly  enjoyments.  If,  like 
Abraham,  you  can  give  up  a  child  inexpressibly  be- 
loved, to  God  incomparably  more  beloved,  you  will  have 
a  comfortable  evidence  of  your  sincerity. 

Pica  3.  "  Had  I  enjoyed  my  child  longer,  I  coidd 
more  easily  have  resigned  it.  But  death  nipped  it  in 
the  bud  ;  and  my  expectations  were  raised  only  to  be 
disappointed." 

A/iswer.  If  it  died  in  Christ,  its  life  was  sufllciently 
protracted.  The  conilict  is  long  enough,  if  the  victory 
be  secured.  The  shorter  the  life  of  your  child,  the  less 
sin  was  committed,  and  the  less  sorrow  endured.  Sin 
and  sorrow  fdl  the  world.  A  quick  passage  through 
such  a  world  is  a  special  privilege.  That  parting 
woidd  have  been  easier  after  a  longer  enjoyment  is  a 
mistake.  The  reverse  is  true.  A  tender  plant  may  be 
easily  plucked  up  ;  but  let  it  spread  and  fasten  its  roots 
for  years,  and  how  hard  to  remove  it !  Such  are  our 
aflections  to  children  and  friends.  Above  all,  this 
thought  should  tranquillize  your  mind :  your  child  was 
removed  in  God's  time ;  and  that  time  is  always  fittest 
and  best. 

Plea  4.  "  In  losing  one,  I  have  lost  all.  Had  I 
other  children,  this  privation  had  been  less  afflictive. 
But  now  it  is  insupportable." 

Answer.  ReUgion  does  not  permit  us  to  say  of  our 
deceased  friends,  that  they  are  lost.  They  are  only 
gone  before.  Nor  can  a  Christian  say  he  has  lost  all 
in  one,  except  that  one  be  Christ ;  and  him  he  can  never 
lose.  Doubtless  yon  mean  that  you  arc  deprived  of  all 
your  comfort  of  this  kind.  And  what  if  you  are  ?  Do 
there  not  still  remain  to  vou  multitudey  of  comfortsi 
1'  :3 


130  TO   MOURNERS. 

more  precious,  more  excellent,  more  durable  ?  Is  yOUr 
portion  in  this  life?  Have  you  not  a  God  who  can. 
more  than  supply  the  loss  of  the  most  beloved  of. 
creatures  ? 

i  Plea  5.  "  I  am  not  only  stripped,  but  have  no  hope 
of  seeing  another  child.  My  comfort  in  children  is 
gone  for  ever." 

Answer.  Bless  God  that  you  have  better  meroies, 
and  higher  hopes,  than  children.  Peruse  tlie  promise, 
Isa.  Ivi.  4,  5.  And  further,  if  God  denies  you  comfort 
from  children,  resolve  to  draw  your  comfort  more  en- 
tirely from  himself.  You  will  be  no  loser  by  the  ex- 
change. In  one  hour's  communion  with  God,  you  will 
find  an  enjoyment  which  the  happiest  of  parents  never 
found  in  children. 

Plea  6.  "  My  bereavement  was  sudden  and  miex- 
pected.  My  beloved  relative  was  taken  without  the 
least  warning." 

Answer.  You  could  not  be  ignorant  that  your  rela- 
tives were  frail  dying  creatures.  And  it  was  your  duty 
to  live  in  habitual  expectation  of  the  parting  stroke. 
You  likewise  saw  other  parents,  husbands,  and  wives 
conveying  their  dead  to  their  long  home :  and  what 
were  these  but  warnings  to  jomI 

Further ;  what  you  consider  the  sting  of  yom*  afflic- 
tion others  w^ould  have  regarded  as  a  favour.  They 
have  witnessed  with  agony  the  gradual  and  most  dis- 
tressing approaches  of  death  to  their  sick  friends. 
Some  of  the  tenderest  of  parents  and  friends  have  even 
been  compelled  to  implore,  upon  their  knees,  that  the 
parting  moment  might  be  hastened,  and  an  end  put  to 
pains  and  sufferings  more  terrible  than  death. 

Plea  7.  "  I  neglected  the  proper  means  and  pre- 
cautions for  preserving  life.  I  have  reason  to  apprehend 
that,  but  for  this  negligence  and  inconsideration,  my 
relative  might  have  been  living ;  and  this  is  inexpressi- 
bly grievous." 

Answer.  It  is  wrong  to  neglect  means ;  and  it  is 
wrong  to  ascribe  too  much  to  them.  The  best  of  them 
are  utterly  fruitless  without  God's  blessing.     When  his 


plt:as  RT:ruTr:D.  131 

'appointed  time  was  come,  this  blessing  was  withheld; 
and  that  it  had  come  in  the  present  case  is  manifest 
from  the  event.  This  consideration  should  quiet  your 
mind,  now  the  event  is  known ;  though,  while  it  was 
uncertain,  it  should  not  have  prevented  any  exertions. 
I  But  do  you  not  charge  yourself  unjustly  ?  It  may 
be  you  doubted  what  course  to  pursue.  Having  ob- 
served many  to  die  under  the  hands  of  physicians,  and 
many  to  recover  without  them  ;  or  not  thinking  the 
present  case  hazardous,  you  omitted  to  call  them.  Or 
among  various  courses  prescribed,  you  preferred  that 
which  you  now  think  the  least  proper.  Yet  you  fol- 
lowed the  best  light  you  had.  In  either  case,  you  have 
no  reason  for  severe  reflections  on  yourself.  Because 
tlie  event  is  unfavourable,  to  be  vexed  that  you  pursued 
the  dictates  of  your  judgment  is  to  be  vexed  that  you 
are  not  omniscient.  For  none  but  the  omniscient  can 
foresee  future  events. 

Again  ;  seasons  of  affliction  are  apt  to  be  seasons  of 
temptation.  The  adversary  then  frequently  charges  us 
with  sins  of  which  we  are  not  guilty ;  and  frequently 
magnifies  our  mistakes  into  sins.  Indeed,  had  yours 
been  a  voluntary  neglect, — had  you  preferred  hazarding 
the  life  of  your  friend  to  parting  with  a  little  money, 
you  would  have  much  reason  to  reproach  yourself;  for 
great  would  have  been  your  guilt.  But  probably  this 
was  not  the  case ;  and  if  so,  yom*  vexation  is  unrea- 
sonable and  wrong. 

Plea  8.  "  Were  I  assured  that  the  deceased  friend, 
or  child,  is  with  Christ,  I  should  be  quiet.  But  alas  ! 
I  fear  the  contrary ;  and  the  very  thought  is  over- 
whelming." 

Answer.  Admit  that  you  have  real  gi-ound  of  fear. 
It  is  a  distressing  case  indeed ;  and  to  a  pious  heart 
almost  overwhelming.  Still,  you  can  have  no  reason 
to  murmur  against  the  dispensations  of  God.  Consider 
liis  adorable  sovereignty  over  the  souls  which  he  has 
made.  Wlio  art  thou^  O  man,  that  rcplicst  against 
God  ?  What  if  the  Lord  docs  not  see  fit  to  bestow  his 
special  mercies  on  those  most  dear  to  us  ?     Is  tliere 


132  TO    MOTTRNF-n«. 

any  \vrong  done  to  ihem,  or  tons?  Aaron  had  the  un, 
iitterable  distress  to  see  his  two  sons  cut  ofl"  by  God's 
immediate  hand,  and  in  the  very  art  of  sin.  Yet 
Aaron  held  his  peace.  God  plainly  signified  to  Abraham 
that  the  covenant  should  not  be  established  with  Ish- 
mael,  for  whom  he  so  earnestly  prayed.  And  ihougli 
he  probably  concluded  that  there  was  no  salvation  out 
of  the  covenant,  yet  he  piously  acquiesced. 

Consider,  further,  God's  distinguishing  love  and 
mercy  to  you.  What  thanks  do  you  owe  that  root  and 
branch  have  not  been  cast  together  into  the  fire  ? 
What  thanks  that  the  Lord  has  given  you  good  hope, 
through  grace,  that  it  shall  be  well  with  you  to  eter- 
nity. Let  the  thought  fill  you  with  grateful  astonish- 
ment, and  awe  you  into  a  holy,  trembling  submission 
to  the  inscrutable  decree  of  Heaven. 

But  further ;  examine  the  ground  of  your  fear.  There 
may  be  less  reason  for  it  than  you  apprehend.  Per- 
haps your  child  died  in  infancy.  As  to  infants  at  large, 
we  may  safely  leave  them  in  the  hands  of  a  Being  in- 
finite in  justice,  infinite  in  mercy. 

Perhaps  your  child  had  passed  infancy ;  but  did  not 
exhibit,  in  life  or  death,  that  decisive  evidence  of  .grace 
which  you  wished.  Yet  if  his  mind  was  tender,  and 
his  deportment  exemplary, — if  he  escaped  the  pollutions 
of  the  world,  and  made  conscience  of  sin  and  duty, 
you  have  reason  to  be  thankful.  There  may  have  been 
found  in  him,  as  in  young  Abijah,  some  good  thing  to- 
wards the  Lord.  A  natural  modesty  and  reserve  may 
have  led  him  to  conceal  from  you  some  things  which, 
had  they  been  known,  would  have  convinced  you  of  his 
piety.  If  there  was  the  faintest  spark  of  grace  in  his 
bosom,  it  was  not  overlooked  by  him  who  dcspiscth  not 
the  day  of  small  thiiigs. 

But  however  this  may  be,  he  is  now  beyond  your 
reach.  He  is  gone  to  an  omniscient,  righteoiis,  and 
merciful  Judge.  Your  duty  lies,  not  in  indulging 
curious  or  anxious  inquiries  respecting  his  state,  but  in 
improving  the  bereavement  to  the  glory  of  God,  and 
your  own  spiritual  good. 


PLEAS  hefutfp.  133 

PJrnO.  "T  fear  I  Ills  visitation  is  a  spof'i.il  punisli- 
mcnt  lor  my  sin,  in  idolizing  tho  ohjccl  witiulrawn  ;  at 
h^ast,  in  not  loving  it  so  spiritually  as  I  onght." 

Ansircr.  If  your  love  was  not  si)iritual  and  pure  (a 
sin  loo  common,  even  among  (Hiristians),  you  have  rea- 
son for  humiliation,  hut  not  lor  despondence.  Perhaps 
your  conscience,  now  particularly  tender,  paints  your 
guilt  in  its  strongest  colours.  But  admit  what  you  aj)- 
})rehend, — that  (iod  has  alllicted  you  for  your  sin,  and 
removed  tlie  comfort  because  it  was  idolized  ;  you  liave 
no  reason  to  sink  under  the  a/lliction.  This  may  be  in 
love  to  your  soul.  "  As  many  as  I  love,"  says  he,  "  I 
rebuke  and  chasten."  How  much  better,  that  Uod 
sliould  remove  your  idolized  enjoyment,  than  that  he 
should  say  of  >  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. 

0  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  ! — 

0  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. 


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and  it  is  an  excellent  specimen  of  biography."— iVffy  England  Pallactium. 

"The  merits  of  this  work  are  so  well  known  that  it  is  altogether  un- 
necessary to  recommend  it  to  our  reai]cvs."—.\eiv-York  Evening  Post. 

"  The  illustrious  subject  of  iliis  volume,  and  the  reputation  of  Southey 
as  a  biographer,  will  be  a  suftl>?ient  guarantee  for  the  interest  of  the 
\\Q\'k."~ New-York  Constellation. 

"  Southcy's  fine  and  popular  biography  of  Nelson  was  very  much 
wanted,  and  is  now  to  be  had  very  cheap,  in  a  very  neat  and  convenient 
form."— iS^<;i'>yor/j  Commercial  Adi-ertiser. 

"  We  take  much  pleasure  in  recommending  this  L!>irary  to  the  publi:, 
because  we  really  consider  it  as  useful  and  as  deserving  of  encourage- 
mciit  as  any  work  that  has  ever  been  in  the  American  press." — yew- 
Vork  Courier  i!y  f^nqnirer. 

"  It  is  well  written  ;  and  consists  of  many  narratives  of  intense  interest, 
and  higlily  wrought  description."— JVcic-YorA-  Mercantile  Advertiser. 

"  It  is  a  faithful  narrative  of  the  hero  of  Trafalgar,  and  paints  his 
character  with  much  force,  and  in  its  true  colouring.  \Ve  consider  this 
number  a  valuable  gem  in  tiie  Family  Library." — Trtdli  Teller.    ' 

"  Tile  publishers  intend  to  incorporate  some  works  of  an  American 
character,  which  will  greatly  augment  the  value  of  their  edition  of  the 
Library.  Thii  last  improvement  is  all  that  is  wanting  to  make  this  work 
one  of  the  most  vaiu'ible  miscellaneous  publications  that  ever  issued  from 
^e  press." — New  York  American. 


[^ 


lilFE    OF    ALEXANDER    THE    GREAT.     By   Rw. 
J.  ^Villiaiiis.     "W'itli  a  Map.     18ino. 

"Thfi  style  is  Rooil,  ami  the  narrative  well  eoriducted.  A  modern 
historj'  of  this  Ikiiious  warrior  cannot  tail  to  be  entertaining." — Xtw- 
York  Daily  Advertiser. 

'•  The  work  is  instructing,  ani  inherits  a  Rrealer  share  of  interest  from 
the  fact,  that  the  history  of  thi3  ancient  Napoleon  is  disintegrated  from 
the  mass  of  general  history,  and  presented  by  itself.  The  style  is  lucid 
and  well  studied." — Neif-York  Joiirnnl  of  Commerce. 

"  Tlie  Jourtli  work  included  in  this  oolfection  is  a  iile  of  Alexander  the 
Great,  written  by  tlie  Rev.  Julin  Williams,  (of  Haloil  Collc;,'e,  Oxford,) 
the  well-known  thunder  and  head  of  the  New  Edinburgh  Academy,  and 
written  in  a  manner  worthy  of  iiis  high  pcholastic  reputation.  He  has 
displaved  felicitously  in  this  volume  both  the  natural  and  acquired  en- 
dowments of  his  mind— filled  a  blank  i!i  the  historical  library,  furnished 
the  schoolmaster,  and  also  the  schoolboy,  whether  at  home  or  abroad, 
with  a  capital  manual— and  there  will  never  be,  in  as  far  as  wc  can  .see, 
the  smallest  occasion  for  writmg  this  story  over  ajcain."—B/ricA-ii»wrf. 

"  This  constitute."!  the  seventh  volume  of  the  Family  Library.  It  is 
incomparably  the  best  life— the  most  careful  and  correct  estimate  of* 
Alexander's  achievements  we  h.we.''''— Monthly  Magazine. 

"This  is  a  much  better  buck  than  any  other  in  English  on  the  same 
subject." — AtkencEum. 

"  It  is  ably  and  eloquently  written."— L'.  Journal. 

"  We  have  repeatedly  borne  testimony  to  the  utilityof  this  Library.  It  is 
one  of  the  best  that  has  ever  been  i.ssued  from  the  American  press,  and 
should  be  in  the  library  of  every  family  desirous  of  treasuring  up  useful 
knowledge." — Boston  States27ian.  '<■■  *"" 


NATURAIi  HISTORY  OP  IXSECTS.    IlUistratetl  by 
uunierotvs  Engravings.     18ino. 

*'  Of  all  studies,  perhaps  there  is  none  more  captivating  than  that  of 
animated  nature The  present  volume  is  peculiarly  useful  and  agree- 
able."— New- York  Mirror. 

'•The  subject  is  full  of  interest  and  .satisfaction,  and  is  adapted  to  all 
classes  of  readers." — Albany  Evaiing  Journal. 

"The  inlbrmation  is  minute,  well  arranged,  and  clearly  imparted,  and 
cannot  but  recommend  the  work  to  general  perusal  in  families." — New- 
York  Standard. 

'•  It  is  the  duty  of  every  person  having  a  family  to  put  this  excellent 
Library  into  the  hands  of  hi.s  childrpn."-^iV.  Y.  Mn-cantile  Adverti-irr. 

"  It  seems  to  us,  that  it  will  prove  at  on>^  agreeable  and  instructive  to 
persons  of  all  classes,  and  occupy  an  appropriate  place  in  the  Family 
Library." — N.  Y.  Daily  Advertisur. 

"  The  study  of  animated  nature,  in  itself  pleasing,  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary as  a  branch  of  useful  knowledge.  In  the  present  work  the  subject 
is  treated  with  peculiar  adroanes-;,  and  contains  only  such  details  as 
render  the  study  of  Natural  History  amusing,  and  at  the  same  time  highly 
instructive.  This  volume,  we  should  conceive,  would  be  highly  advanta- 
geous for  the  U9^  of  schools ;  and  we  reL-om:neiid  its  being  placed  in  every 
one's  library,  as  a  work  full  of  usetul  intbrmation." — Truth  Teller. 

"  Tlie  History  of  Insects  is  a  curious  one.  .Many  of  the  details  are 
wonderful  and  full  of  \n\.txcfi\..'"— Philadelphia  hiquirer. 

"  This  work  must  prove  useful  and  interesiinit  to  all  classes." 

Albany  Daily  Advertiser. 

m  ■ 


L.1FJE  OF  liORD  BYitON.  By  Jolin  Gait,  Esq.  18mo. 

"  This  volume  has  groat  merit,  and  is  a  valuable  acquisition  to  litera 
turc."— iVf I')-  York  Spectator. 

"Tlic  si)rij,'litly  pen  of  the  author  has  communicated  uncommon  inter- 
est to  this  work,  und  he  appears  to  have  done  perfect  justice  to  its  inspired 
subject." — Alhaiiy  Dailu  Advert iser. 

"  Tlic  subject  IS  one  of  very  {rreat  interest,  which  is  of  course  enhanced 
by  the  reputation  of  the  wnler^'—Hntti more  Republican. 

"  Mr.  Gait  is  one  of  the  most  fascinating  writers  of  the  age. ^'—Journal 
of  Commerce. 

'The  work  is  well  written,  and  gives  many  particulars  m  the  career 
of  the  gitled  bard  which  we  never  before  met  with  in  pfmt."— Pennsyl- 
vania Inquirir. 

"  It  ir*  the  work  of  one  of  the  most  sprightly  and  popular  writers  of  the 
day,  and  has  the  advantage  of  being  comprised  in  the  moderate  compass 
of  a  single  volume." — Evening  Post. 

"  Mr.  Gait  is  in  the  habit  of  eliciting  the  truth  from  whatever  he  under- 
takes to  consider  or  develop.  So  much  of  the  exact  truth,  in  respect  to 
Byron,  was  never  before  discovered,  collected,  and  set  down,  as  we  find 
in  this  very  interesting  volume."— C.  Journal. 

"  Gait  is  a  powerful  writer.  His  critical  abilities  and  the  rare  oppor- 
tunity which  he  enjoyed  of  reading  the  heart-secrets  of  the  mysterious 
poet  give  an  undoubted  value  to  this  h[i,tovy."— New- York  Cabinet. 

"  This  volume  contains,  in  a  concise  but  interesting  form,  a  Memoir  of 
the  i.ife  and  Literary  I/abours  of  Lord  Byron,  by  Mr.  Gait ;  whose  classic 
pen  imparts  interest  and  value  to  every  tiling  it  touches."— Albany  Eve- 
ning Journal. 

"  air.  Gait  is  well  and  favourably  known  as  a  wiiter."— Mercantile 
Advertiser. 


liIPE  OF  MOHAMMED,  Foiinder  of  ilic  Religion  of 
Islam  and  of  tlie  Eini>ire  of  th.c  Saracens.  By  tlie 
Rev.  George  Basil,  M.  A.    ^Vitli  a  plate.     18ino. 

*'  It  seems  to  us  to  be  a  good  narrative  of  the  life  of  the  great  Arabian 
impostor,  written  in  a  fine  style.  .  .  .  We  are  not  aware  that  any  other 
work  of  the  same  size  contains  the  same  quantity  of  information  relative 
to  the  matters  treated  of,  in  as  agreeable  a  form.."— Co»i.  Advertiser. 

"  We  have  so  often  recommended  this  enterprising  and  useful  publica- 
tion (the  Family  Library),  that  we  can  herd  only  add,  that  each  succes- 
sive number  appears  to  confirm  its  merited  popularity." — N.  Y.  Ajncrican. 

"  This  volume  embraces  a  portion  of  history  extremely  interesting  to 
the  reader;  and  the  work  well  deserves  a  place  among  the  others  com- 
jwsing  the  valuable  series  of  the  Family  \Ahx-dry .'''—Evening  Jonrnal. 

"  The  Family  Library  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  j)erson.  Thus 
far  it  has  treated  of  subjects  interesting  to  all,  condensed  in  a  perspicu- 
ous and  agreeable  style." — Courier  Sr  Em/nirer. 

"  Mr.  Bush  is  a  scholar  of  extensive  acquirements,  and  well  fitted  for 
the  task  which  he  has  undertaken  in  this  volume." — N.  Y.  Observer. 

"  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  e<iual  to  any  that  have  appeared  in  the  Family  Li- 
brary, and  that  is  one  of  the  bestof  coinpli*iieiits  which  can  be  paid  it."— 
Albany  Evening  Journal.  „,. .        «  — 

HISTORY  OP  POLAND,  from  tlio  earliest  Period  to 
iitc  yresent  Time.  By  James  Fletcliei*,  Es<i«  Wiijx 
a  Portrait  of  Kosciusko.    ISmo. 

"  This  work  recommends  itself  to  public  notice  by  its  clear,  concise,  and 
impartialhistoryof  a  country  and  a  people  for  whom  the  feelings  of  every 
lover  of  freedom  are  now  deeply  interested."— ,V.  Y.  AtUis. 

"Of  the  writer's  fairness  and  re.search  we  have  a  very  good  opinion  ; 
and  his  book  is  just  the  thing  that  is  wanted  at  the  present  nioment."- 
ycn--York  American. 

"  A  more  acceptable  volume  than  this  could  not  be  presented  to  the 
public." — Courier  i^-  Enquirer. 

"  A  work  of  great  interest."— >lZ^/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" — y<cw  Monthly  Magazine. 

"  We  have  not  space  to  notice  this  work  as  it  deserves.  We  caimot, 
however,  allow  the  present  opportunity  to  pass  without  strongly  recom- 
mending it  to  the  attention  of  the  general  reader,  and  to  the  housekeeper 
in  particular.  It  would  be  a  useful  as  well  as  elegant  ho'yday  present- 
worth  all  the  annual  gifts  ever  published."— iV.  Y.  Mirror. 

♦'  Wc  do  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  the  most  fastidious  and  perfect  mind 
can  find  nothing  in  this  book  from  which  to  dissent.  It  is  an  admirable 
condensation  of  the  physical  and  intellectual  duties  of  women  ;  and  we 
recommend  it  to  all  young  ladies,  married  or  not." — Boston  Statesjuan. 

"  This  work  is  calculated  to  ari-est  tlie  attention  of'those  young  married 
ladies  who  wish  to  shine  in  the  domestic  circlc."~Cojnvierc!al  Ailv. 

"Were  the  sentiments  this  book  inculcates  but  understood  and  ;)rac- 
tised  by  our  ladies,  it  would  be  of  more  real  advantage  to  them  than  all 
the  fine  theories  to  be  deduced  from  the  collective  wisdom  of  all  the  novels 
since  the  days  of  chivalry."-- Ladies'  Magazine  [BostOTi].   By  Mrs.  Hale. 

"  This  book  contains  an  amount  of  useful  and  interesting  information 
rarely  to  be  met  with.''— Chroiiicle  of  the  Times. 

THE  COOK'S  ORACI.E  and  Iloiisckeeper's  Maimal 

Containing  Receipts  for  Cookery,  and  Directions  for  Carving.    Also, 
the  Art  of  comiwsing  tiiemost  simple  and  highly-finished  Broths,  Gra- 
vies, Soups.  Sauces,  Store  Sauces,  and  flavouring  Essences ;  Pastry, 
Preserves,  Puddings,  Pickles,  &c. ;  with  a  Complete  System  of  Cook- 
ery for  Catholic  Families.    The  Quantity  of  each  Article  is  accurately 
stated  by  Weight  and  Measure ;  being  the  Re.sult  of  actual  E.xperi- 
ments  in  the  kitchen  of  WILLIAM  KITCHINER,  M.D.    Adapted  to 
the  American  Public,  by  a  Medical  Gentleman      12mo. 
"  This  is  a  very  good  book — not  calculated,  as  many  may  suppose,  to 
promote  luxury  and  excess  in  eating,  but  imparting  information  that  will 
enable  housekeepers  to  diminish  their  expunijes,  while  they  add  to  their 
enjoyments." — N.  Y.  American. 

"  "Dr.  Kitchlner's  Manual,  combining,  as  it  does,  for  every  rank  of  life, 
all  that  is  useful  in  dom.estic  arrangements,  with  much  that  is  ami:sing, 
will,  we  venture  to  say,  be  in  possession  of  every  one  that  can  possibly 
obtain  it.  The  poor  man  will  soon  gain  from  its  maxims  of  i'rugalit) 
ra.'sre  than  its  cost,  and  the  rich  will  find  its  price  tenfold  in  the  increased 
dehcacies  of  his  table."— .V.  Y.  Courier  and  Enqnirer. 

"How  valuable  should  not  that  book  be  considered,  which  affects  to 
instruct  the  amiable  wife  how  to  increase  the  enjoyments  of  that  fireside 
where  Love  has  ever  built  his  brightest  throne,  aiid  Innocence,  Temper- 
ance, and  Piety  have  found  their  safest  shelter."— TVwf/i  Teller 

"  There  need  be  no  bad  cooks,  and  all  may  be  good  cooks,  if  they  will 
take  this  book  for  their  guide." — Albany  Daily  Advertiser 

"The  Cook's  Oracle  is  better  than  a  mere  book  of  cookery;  it  is  a 
medical  book,  and  oUj^ht  to  be  installed  in  every  family,  in  the  place  of 
Buch2in."— New- England  Palladimn. 


APF\ECTIKG    SCENES ;    1>eing   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  <S-  Enquirer. 

"  The  author's  works  on  the  culinary  art  are  the  most  popular  in  the 
language,  and  the  work  before  us  has  passed  through  Ki.v  editions  in 
London." — Evening  Post. 

"  It  certainly  appears  to  be  one  of  the  best  works  extant  on  the  im- 
portaiit  subject  of  which  it  treats." — A.  Daily  Advertiser. 

"The  most  important  work  that  has  recently  appeared  among  us.' — 
Uo.<!tnn  .Stateymnn. 


rAlVSZIiY  OZiASSZCAZ.  Z.ZBRARY. 

To  those  who  are  desirous  of  obtaining  a  knowledge  of  the  most  es- 
teemed autliors  of  Greece  and  Rome,  but  possess  not  the  means  or  leisure 
for  pursuing  a  regular  course  of  study,  the  present  undertaldng  must  prove 
a  valuable  acquisition. 

To  him  who,  as  Dr.  Knox  observes,  although  engaged  in  other  pursuits, 
is  still  anxious  to  "  retain  a  tincture  of  that  elegance  and  liberality  of  sen- 
timent which  t.h'i  mind  acquires  by  the  study  of  the  Classics,  and  which 
contributes  more  to  form  the  true  gentleman  than  all  the  unsubstantial 
ornaments  of  modern  affectation,"  such  a  collection  will,  it  is  confidently 
hoped,  prove  acceptable. 

As  thejearned  languages  do  not  form  part  of  the  education  of  females, 
the  only  access  which  they  have  to  the  valuable  stores  of  antiquity  is 
.tlirough  the  medium  of. correct  translation. 

The 'selection  is  intended  to  include  those  authors  whose  works  may 
with  propriety  be  read  by  persons  of  both  sexes;  and  it  will  be  obvious 
that  the  nature  of  the  publication  is  of  so  permanent  a  character,  as  to 
prove  equally-interesting  to  posterity  as  to  the  present  generation.  The 
whole  will  be  presented  to  the  public  in  a  cheap,  handsome,  and  uniform 
size,  forming  a  complete  "  Family  Classical  Library,"  alike  useful  for  the 
purpose  of  instruction  and  amusement.  Indeed,  as  Dr.  I'arr  says,  "if 
you  desire  your  son,  though  no  great  scholar,  to  read  and  reriect,  it  is 
your  duty  to  place  in  his  hands  the  best  translations  of  the  best  Classical 
Autliors." 


XENOPKO^.    Ill  3  vols.  ISmo.    -Witlx  a  Portrait. 
13E3IOSTHENES.    3  vols.  18mo.    With  a  Portrait. 
SAIiLiUST.    3  vols.  ISmc.    ^Vitli  a  Portrait. 

"  Spelman's  '  Anabasis'  is  one  of  the  most  accurate  aad  elegant  transla- 
tions that  any  language  has  produced.'"— GiZ)io?i. 

"  The  soldier  has  always  admired  the  talents  of  Xenophon  in  conduct- 
ing, and  the  scholar  in  describing,  the  'Retreat  of  the  Ten  Thousand ;' 
and  the  philosopher  and  statesman  have  alike  been  delighted  with  his 
charming  work  denominated  the  '  Cyropsdia.' " — Robinson's  Antiquities 
of  Greece.. 

"  In  the  translation  of  Demosthenes  I.eland  unites  the  man  of  ta-ste  with 
the  man  of  learning,  and  shows  himself  to  have  possessed,  not  only  a  com- 
petent knowledge  of  the  Greek  language,  but  that  clearness  in  his  own 
conceptions,  and  that  animation  in  his  feelings,  which  enabled  him  to  catch 
the  real  meaning,  and  to  preserve  the  genuine  spirit  of  the  most  perfect 
orator  Athens  ever  j)roduced." — Varr. 

".Sallust  is  very  neatly  printed  on  good  paper,  and  is  much  the  cheapest 
edition  of  this  intt-resting  and  classical  work." — New-York  Standard. 

There  are  various  and  obvious  reasons  which  make  a  publication  of 
this  kind  highly  desirable  in  this  country." — The  Churchman. 

Good  translations  of  the  ancient  classics  have  always  been  a  great 
desideratum." — N.  Y.  American. 

"  'J'he  publication  deserves  tlie  most  liberal  encouragement."— iV.  Y. 
Constellation. 

"  It  is  truly  one  of  the  most  valuable  works  that  could  bo  presented  to 
the  public." — Providence  American. 

"  Independently  of  their  literary  merit,  it  is  in  these  works  that  the  his- 
tory and  iiianMi-rs  of  the  ancients  are  best  studied." — Bolt.  American. 


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