they were to last for ever. Whence comes it then, my friends, that encouraged by hope, fallacious hope, by hope so blended with all the anxiety of fear, and oftentimes in the end, productive of so much bitterness of soul, we are so ardent in the pursuit of worldly vanities;—and that in the great, the important affair of salvation, which faith points out to us as the certain reward of our perseverance in virtue, we are so comparatively tepid and indifferent? Whence comes it, that in the paltry race of worldlings, where a corruptible crown only is held forth to us as the future remuneration of our successful efforts, where so many competitors are to be outstripped, such hardships to be endured, such difficulties to be surmounted, we bear rapidly forward towards the goal; and yet in the honorable race of the children of God, with the cheering prospect of an incorruptible crown before us, from which none are excluded, and which all may obtain,—where the noble emulation of holy rivals, far from discouraging us, inspires us, on the contrary, with additional fortitude, and pains and obstacles vanish from before our zeal,-whence comes it, I say, that in this glorious race of immortality, our course is so easily retarded? Whence, I ask, my friends, but from a want of faith? Whence, but because, in the language of the Apostle, we run not as at a certainty, but as at an uncertainty? Whence those frequent defeats experienced by us in the triumph of passion, but because we fight not the good fight with the steady resolution of

Christian heroes, but with the impotent exertions of "men beating the air"?

Oh! Christians, were you deeply penetrated with the sublime truths of your holy religion; were you feelingly convinced of the reality of that incomprehensible happiness, "which eye hath not seen, which ear hath not heard, and which it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive," could you ever allow it to be absent from your minds? Would it not perpetually occupy your thoughts? Would not all the actions of your lives be made subservient to it? Oh! that the children of men would oftentimes look forward from the desert of this world on the holy land of the heavenly Canaan! Oh! that they would stedfastly fix their attention on that divine spectacle of the Jerusalem that is above! How would they become enamoured of the lovely objects they would there behold! Did they, like the inspired psalmist, rerember thee; did they listen, like him, to the glorious things that are told of thee, O city of God, how impetuously would their bounding hearts spring towards thee! How ardently would they desire to be enrolled among the number of thy blessed inhabitants! How would all the meaner glories of this world fade away before the transcendant splendour which illumines thee! How dull and insipid would be all the concerts of earthly music, to ears accustomed to the ravishing canticles of the heavenly Sion! Sooner would they forget their right hands, than they would forget thee.

Never would they be at rest, whilst held at a distance from thee. On thee alone, would all their hopes be fixed. In thee, would all their joys be concentred. Yes, indeed, my friends, such at least, in some degree, may be expected to be the consequences of a lively faith on the heart of a firm believer. But are these the impressions which you experience? Do you feel any thing of this sacred, this seraphic glow, this impatient ardour for the good things of the Lord in the land of the living? Does not the world, with its pomps and vanities, occupy, on the contrary, the chief place in your affections? Is not religion considered by men in general as the stated occupation of particular times and seasons, rather than as a great divine principle, designed to produce within them such dispositions of soul, as may qualify them for the enjoyment of a blissful immortality? And what am I hence to infer? That faith is deficient in efficacy on the hearts of men in general? No; but that men in general are deficient in faith. The conclusion which, in support of the efficacy of faith on the mind of the firm believer, I have drawn from the consideration of the joys of heaven, will be still more striking, if to it be added the frightful alternative of those inexpressible torments endured by the reprobate in the region of woe, which is equally an article of the Christian's belief, but on which time will not at present permit me to expatiate.

It may be observed, however, perhaps, that the

rewards and punishments of a future state of existence, being invisible to the eye, and contemplated only in distant prospect, are not calculated to make a deep impression on the mind of man, and that these circumstances in conjunction with the powerful influence of the passions, are sufficient to account for a violation of the precepts of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, consistently with a firm belief of its doctrines. To this observation, space will not suffer me to make any other reply at present, than that which is furnished me by the Apostle Paul, in the wonderful effects of faith on the conduct of the servants of God, recorded by him in his epistle to the Hebrews. Listen to the words of that great Apostle, who, after having established the fundamental principle, that faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, and exemplified its efficacy in the lives of the holy patriarchs and prophets as well as of other distinguished worthies, proceeds in the following animated strain: "But others were racked, not accepting deliverance, that they might find a better resurrection. And others had trial of mockeries and stripes, moreover also of bands and prisons; they were stoned, they were cut asunder, they were tempted, they were put to death by the sword: they wandered about in sheep-skins, in goat-skins, being in want, distressed, afflicted, of whom the world was not worthy, wandering in deserts, in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth." How happens it then, my friends, that

stimulated by faith, the servants of God could remain firm and unshaken against such a variety of extraordinary assaults, that they could brave the fury of tyrants and persecutors, and could look unappalled on all the most frightful inventions of ingenious cruelty, on irons, and racks, and tortures, and death, in its most ghastly shapes; and that we, on the contrary, in the ordinary trials which fall more or less to the lot of every one, are so easily overcome? Ought not the same cause to produce in us the same effects which it did on them? Were not the objects held forth by faith, as distant and invisible then, as they are now? Was not human nature the same formerly as it is at present, open to the seductions of worldly allurements, and prompted by the passions to sensual gratifications? Whence then the difference of effect? Oh! my friends, did the same cause exist, it would produce, most assuredly, the same effects. Had we the faith of the servants of God, it would manifest itself in our conduct, as it did in theirs. And if it do not, if it do not manifest itself in our conduct, as it did in theirs, to what are we to attribute it, but to the weakness in us of that divine principle which in them was the main spring of such heroic achievements?

Exert then, my friends, henceforth, exert, I entreat you, your most strenuous efforts to acquire that deep and feeling conviction of the unseen goods and evils of eternity, the importance of which it has been this day my endeavour to im