terrors. It is called, a going to rest,- They rest in their beds. It is called a sleep, a sleeping in Jesus,Them also that sleep in Jesus. Stephen, though stoned to death, has this image applied to him, When he said this he fell asleep. It is called a departure-a going home-a translation-an entrance into the haven of rest, So an entrance shall be ministered. In the text, as an object of cheerful expectation and hope. The righteous hath hope, &c.-Precious in the sight, &c.

-

To the wicked, death is described by terms of terror, and violence, and alarm. It is called the king of terrors. His confidence rooted out by stumbling on the dark mountains. Compared to a lion coming up from the swelling of Jordan,—to a thief coming with stealthy pace to take our greatest treasure,—to an extinguished lamp,—to the destruction of hope,—to the going down to the bars of the pit. The approach of the wicked to the invisible world is awfully described. Hell from beneath is moved to meet thee. In a moment shall they die ; they shall be troubled at midnight, and pass away. one should know them they are in the terrors of the shadow of death. The wicked is reserved to the day of destruction, to be chased away as a vision of the night,—

DRIVEN AWAY.

If

In reference to THE DEATH OF THE WICKED, three inquiries are necessary.

I. What he is driven from.

He is driven away, from a large measure of happiness from the beautiful scenes of nature-from the pleasures of friendship and domestic life-from the enterprises of ambition-from the pursuits of literature, and taste, and science-from the transactions of business-and from the large hopes and expectancies of many years to come. From all these he is roughly torn asunder, not gently detached, but violently driven away. Death awfully concludes the happiness and glory of the man who has forgotten God in life ; he is stript of all-disinherited of all-left alone. He

"The axe,

was spreading himself like a green bay-tree. &c." "Soul, take, &c." "Thou fool, &c. Then the sound of the viol or once pleasing harp is no more melodious to his ear, the sight of the most pleasing object has no joy for a dying eye. He clasps with eagerness the hand of the nearest friend, as much as to say, Keep me in the world a little longer; but his friends, his flatterers, his admirers, can do nothing for him; they are like those who see a man sinking in the cold wave, and can only shed fruitless tears or offer barren wishes for his deliverance. In spite of all,—he is driven away.

He is driven away not only from happiness, but from all sources of moral improvement. While here he had many opportunities of improvement,-providence, mercies, afflictions, disappointments, which might prove means of grace. But now it is all over,-As the tree falls, &c. The gate of the sanctuary has closed upon him for the last time. His neglected bible is now a sealed book, sealed for ever against him. The ministers of the gospel shall no longer beseech him to be reconciled. The Spirit of grace strives no more with him, -the precious blood of Christ, which he so often trampled under foot, has lost its virtue to him. There remaineth no more sacrifice, &c. The last breath is in his nostril, and, as he pours it forth, the voice from the excellent glory proclaims, Let him alone. Israel would have none of me, so I gave him up, &c. DRIVEN AWAY,

&c.

Do you tremble at this picture? It may be your But a step may bc between you and death.

own.

II. Where he is driven to.

One woe is past. Driven out of time into eternity, -out of time, which he never valued, into eternity, for which he never prepared. The past appears but a fugitive and brilliant moment, which shone and disappeared; the future is an abyss of terror, to which he sees no end, no issue,-the blackness of darkness for ever. The world which he thought eternal has passed

away; eternity, which he thought a dream, is now a dreadful reality.

He is driven into the presence of that God whose friendship he never sought, and whose anger he never deplored, -driven to the abodes of lost spirits. Like the rich man, In hell he lift up, &c. Like Job's infidel, His eyes shall see his destruction, &c. Like unbelievers and apostates, He drinks of the wine of the wrath, &c.

III. What he carries with him.

His wickedness ;- he was driven away in it,-planning some new sin-rising into higher rebellion against good, till divine patience could bear no longer, and now he is to carry the burden of his iniquity with him, to be his portion and his punishment for ever. The ac

cumulated sins of a whole life, unrepented of and unpardoned, form to him an awful inheritance of condemnation and wrath. He possesses a fixed character of evil, and the evil he chose becomes his portion, and becomes his curse.

Now, men and brethren, be wise in time. If there be one hardened, rebellious sinner here, let me offer language of congratulation. You are not yet driven away in your wickedness;-bless God for that. Language of warning. You may be-take care you do not abuse the riches of God's long-suffering-you may be on the very brink of hell. Language of invitation and encouragement. You need not be driven away. God says, Why will ye die? Jesus is able and willing to save. The Spirit and the Bride, &c. But there is no time to be lost. To-day, as the Holy Ghost says, &c. Pray today. Pray now. Boast not of to-morrow. This moment may be your last. Your next action of importance may be your last; your next presumptuous sin may be your last; your next sickness your last sickness; your next sabbath, &c.

1. What a dreadful view of the life and death of the wicked! Life is an accumulation of wickedness; death is a being driven away in it. Life and death,

one thing; both an experiment upon God's forbearance. So it was with Pharaoh, Balaam.

2. See the greatness of Christ's salvation from the greatness of the ruin from which it saves. That the whole apostate race was not driven away in wickedness, we owe to Christ. Deliver them, &c.

3. The value of the gospel hope from the happiness it secures in life and death. The righteous has hope where hope is most wanted and least expected. He hopes for acceptance, absolution, acknowledgment, heaBe faithful, &c.

ven.

XVIII.

HOPE IN DEATH.

PROVERBS xiv. 32.

"The righteous hath hope in his death."

THE former part of the verse has occupied attention. We considered the death of the wicked,-what he was driven from,-where he was driven to,—what he carried with him. It is humiliating to reflect how hasty and evanescent are the impressions produced by the most solemn subjects. Many, doubtless, heard with attention,- were impressed with the thought of being driven away in their wickedness: but, permit me to ask, what effect did the impression produce? Did it lead to thought afterwards-to prayer-to repentance-to a desire to escape the bondage of sin? to obtain an interest in Christ? to live a life of righteousness? What sin did you avoid in consequence? What time did you set apart for reflection on your latter end?— Alas, how few are anxious to be better for any means of grace! Impressions come over them while hearing, and there end. Like the flight of an eagle towards heaven, the air is shaken as she passes, but no path is

left behind her; but, God requireth that which is past. Sermons, warnings, entreaties, are multiplied. The result-a problem.

Let me try another experiment, and point to the happy death of the righteous. See here,

I. An enemy all must meet. Death.

II. A privilege all must envy. Hope in death. III. A dispensation all must approve of. The righteous hath hope in his death.

Behold, in the first place,

I. An enemy all must meet.

Whether with hope or without it,—death; whether prepared or unprepared for,-whether pardoned or unpardoned,-whether converted or unconverted,-whether saved or lost. I ask the young, where are you going? To death. The aged? To death. The middleaged? To death.

I ask not only all ages, but all characters. Where are you going? The righteous and the unrighteous, the professor and the profane,-the hypocrite and the formalist, the wise virgins and the foolish ones, where are you going? to death. The common swearer,-the sabbath breaker,-the drunkard, the unchaste,-the murderer, the thief,-the liar,-where are you going? The answer must be, to death. The graves are ready for us,—we must say to corruption, Thou art our father, and to the worm, "My sister and my mother." It is appointed to all men once to die. This is a journey all must take,—a crisis all must meet, an enemy all must

encounter.

Death is formidable to all, because it makes a great change, breaks up near connexions, dissolves the most sacred ties, interrupts the brightest prospects, and brings the most important events to a sudden and awful pause. He who is chief mourner at another's funeral, will soon want a chief mourner at his own. The pa

rent must follow the child, the child must follow the parent; the husband must follow the wife, the wife