men labor hard, and are often successful in this life, in quieting the re-
proofs of this inward monitor. They enjoy facilities for this purpose,
of which they will be deprived at death. The world is engrossing and
absorbing, and in its various pursuits of business and pleasure, they
are able, to a great extent, to keep out of sight and out of mind, the
scenes which eternity will disclose. The eyes of their understanding
are darkened, and unbelief is as a thick veil through which they see
but dimly, spiritual objects. But at death this veil is torn away, and
God and heaven and hell are contemplated as present, living realities.
There are no intervening objects to obstruct the vision, or to divert the
attention from the unchanging destiny which awaits the soul. Things
will then appear as they are. The law of God will be seen to be holy,
sin will appear exceeding sinful, and the characters of men will be un-
veiled and be exhibited in the blazing light of truth. In these circum-
stances, when men have nothing but their sins and their recompense to
occupy their minds; when business and pleasure have passed for ever
away, when everything conspires to concentrate thought upon the ac-
tions of a mis-spent life, conscience will have full scope to do her
dreaded and dreadful work. Men have often exclaimed in the review
of a dissolute, ungodly life, O the insufferable pangs of an accusing,
guilty conscience! An eminent statesman, who died a few years since,
furnished in his last hours, an affecting illustration of the power of an
awakened conscience. He had led a gay and thoughtless life, and his
highest ambition was to be esteemed a man of genius and honor, true
to his friends and a cordial hater of his enemies. At length, he was
brought to a sick and dying bed. A clergyman visited him in the hope
that he might be induced, at the eleventh hour, to flee to Christ for
pardon and salvation. He questioned him in relation to his feelings;
but his only reply was, in tones of agony, remorse, remorse.
when his voice was silenced and his limbs were stiffening he made ano-
ther effort to express the hopelessness of his misery by motioning for a
card, and tracing, with his hand, quivering in death, the same signifi-
cant word, remorse, remorse.

"So withers the mind remorse hath riven,
'Unfit for earth, undoomed for heaven,
Darkness above, despair beneath,
Around it flame, within it death."

And

But if conscience possesses such blasting power in this world, if its partial influence fills the soul with such bitterness and anguish, what must it be, when it expends its entire fury upon the soul without mitigation and without end! It was this, in connection with other things, that prompted the petition, "gather not my soul with sinners." There is this peculiarity in regard to the pains inflicted by an accusing conscience. They are pains from which we cannot escape. They are like a burning fire in our bosoms, and the more we strive to quench it, the more it rages. It is this idea that Milton, in his Paradise Lost, so vividly presents when speaking of the mournful strains in which the arch apostate bewailed his wretched state.

“Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells. Hail horrors,
Hail infernal world, and thou profoundest hell
Receive thy new possessor-me, miserable,
Whither shall I fly? Which way I fly is hell.
Myself am hell.”

It is this that gives the climax to the wretchedness of the dying sinner. He has the elements of misery in his own bosom. It is there the fires are kindled which will rage on with unmitigated fury for ever. Who will not join in the prayer," gather not my soul with sinners?"

I shall add but one consideration more. In the death of sinners, probation closes, and the rich provisions of the Gospel are henceforth unavailing. Up to this period, the voice of mercy is heard calling upon prodigals to return, and promising them forgiveness through the blood of the atonement. There are no stains too deep and dark to be cleansed by a timely application to a merciful and Almighty Redeemer. Thousands, whose lives have been steeped in guilt, and whose feet have been swift to shed blood, have found free forgiveness in Christ. But the Gospel is confined in its offers and in its pardoning efficacy to the season of man's probation. It has no power to subjugate the passions and renew us unto holiness after the spirit shall return to God who gave it. The character we bear with us into eternity will remain unchanged through all its revolving ages. "He that is unjust will be unjust still, and he which is filthy will be filthy still, and he that is righteous will be righteous still, and he that is holy will be holy still." It is this view, which invests the present life with such unspeakable and overwhelming interest. The line once passed that separates time from eternity, and there "remaineth no more sacrifice for sin." But who can contemplate an eternal existence of sinning and suffering, and not feel an agonizing solicitude to escape a doom so dreadful! Think, fellow sinners, of the accumulated horrors which cluster around an immortal being, who finds himself exposed without hope and without relief to the raging of an eternal tempest. The waves of sorrow roll over his soul,

"And in the lowest deep, a lower deep,

Still threatening to devour him, opens wide,
To which the hell he suffers seems a heaven."

66

And can this be eternal? Is there no cessation to his insupportable woes? Is there no intimation of mercy to lighten his despair? Will not a compassionate Saviour once more say, come unto me ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest?" O no. The last accents of mercy to him have died away for ever. The Spirit has made his last call. The sabbath has dawned for the last time, and all the promises of mercy are made, as to him, in vain. Judge ye, if there is not ground for the prayer, " Gather not my soul with sinners." To die in any circumstances is a solemn and momentous event. But to

die in the company and with the character of sinners is the climax of wretchedness, and ensures the full realization of all that is terrific in the wrath of God. How many death-bed scenes confirm the truth of this remark. I will mention one, the particulars of which have been made public, and they may be relied on as authentic. Some time since, a man sent for a clergyman under circumstances that rendered his recovery hopeless. He was aware of his danger, and terribly alarmed for the safety of his immortal soul. The minister saw, at a glance, that there was no time to lose, and directed him to the Lord Jesus Christ as willing and able to save to the uttermost. Suddenly, and with emphasis, he said, "I am burdened, I am burdened. I must unbosom myself, I must confess my sin." He mentioned one sin of peculiar guilt, and cried out, "that's the load that weighs upon my conscience." The minister entreated him to confess his sins to God, and seek through the blood of the Saviour, forgiveness. He did cry, Lord Jesus, have mercy, but there was no cessation of his tormenting fears. At length, summoning his last energies, he threw off the clothes from the bed, and said to the minister at his side, "O, sir, that's a mighty idea, that's a mighty idea, to go and throw one's self down before God to see what is to be done with us. Yes, sir, it's to see what is to be done with us." He tossed himself a little longer, screamed for mercy, though no mercy came, wept and groaned and died.

You shudder at the thought that such an end should be yours. It may not be, in all its circumstances of aggravation and anguish. And yet, a prayerless and an impenitent life is certain to issue in a hopeless and a despairing death. Here then, fellow sinner, is the point of chief interest and concern to you, to secure, by an immediate and cordial reception of the Gospel, the presence of Him, who can cheer your dying hour, and bid you welcome to the society and the songs of heaven. Persisting in impenitence, your soul will be gathered with sinners, and their doom will be yours. Flee, then, to the glorious refuge provided. Be not delayed by the stupidity and the worldliness of those around you. Listen not to the suggestions of the adversary. Trust not to the fatal delusion of future repentance. Indulge not the vain hope that God's mercy is too great to permit you to perish. Say not that perdition is too dreadful to be a reality. Thousands have comforted themselves in this delusion, till hope expired, and they found themselves wailing in despair. Your only hope is, in repairing to the cross, and making Christ your Saviour and your friend. Doing this, your soul shall not be gathered with sinners, but amidst the agonies of dissolving nature you shall triumphantly exclaim, "O death, where is thy sting; O grave, where is thy victory." May this be your end and mine, and to the riches of grace, will we ascribe all the praise now and for ever.

5*

SERMON CCCLXIII.

BY REV. ELISHA YALE, D.D.,

PASTOR OF THE CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, KINGSBORO', N. Y.

THE DIVINE METHOD

OF RAISING CHARITABLE CONTRIBUTIONS.

"Upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him, that there be no gatherings when I come."-1 COR. xvi. 2.

LOVE gives a cup of cold water to a disciple. Love visits the needy and the afflicted. Love goes forth to seek and save the lost. In a distant country, under the burning sun, amid privations, many and great, love cheers the weary, drooping stranger, while he pities, and instructs, and guides the returning wanderer. So God sent his Son into the world to save sinners. So the Son came, saying, "I delight to do thy will, O my God." To build the tabernacle, the willinghearted brought enough, and more than enough. Said the man after God's own heart, " Because I have set my affection to the house of my God, I have of mine own proper good, of gold and silver, prepared with all my might three thousand talents of gold, and seven thousand talents of silver. Who then is willing to consecrate his service this day unto the Lord?"

Love was the grace of God bestowed upon the churches of Macedonia. Then, in a great trial of affliction, the abundance of their joy, and their deep poverty, abounded unto the riches of their liberality. They were willing of themselves beyond their power. They prayed the Apostles with much entreaty to receive the gift. They first gave themselves to the Lord, and then were they ready to do his will in every good work. Love inspires the grateful recollection of the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, though he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, that we through his poverty might become rich. We are not our own, but are bought with a price; and, in the exercise of love, we devote to him that loved and bought us, all that we are and we, and all that we can do, to carry into effect his designs of mercy rishing men, and we ask, each one for himself,

"What can I do for Him that died,

To save my wretched soul ?"

Knowing, as we do, the languishing state of the missionary enterprise, in all its departments, we shall rejoice to find the Divine Method of raising all the funds we need.

Let us examine this DIVINE METHOD.

1. It is to contribute frequently and statedly. Upon the first day of the week. This is frequently, for it is once in seven days. Nor shall we think that God calls too frequently, if he calls once a week, to make some appropriate acknowledgment of his right, by giving a portion of what he gives us, to carry on his peculiar work in the world, and to save the perishing; to save them, not from starvation, but from perdition. Can once a week be too frequently to lay by in store to feed the hungry and clothe the naked? Was it not ordered in the Churches of Galatia, as well as in the Church of Corinth, that the same rule should be observed? And can we hesitate for a moment to adopt it in regard to the evangelizing of the world? Once a week-can this be too often to make a pecuniary contribution to send the word of life, or the messenger of mercy, announcing life to those who are dead in sins? Were our souls where theirs are, should we think once a week too often to be thought of, and prayed for, and labored for, that we might live? Relief must be had. God has ordered it to be given by us, and given on the first day of the week. Frequently, so that we may never forget it.

Statedly also. Upon the first day of the week. What day could be more appropriate? The Redeemer's birth-day. As it is said, " This day have I begotten thee." The day of the Church's foundation: for, on the first day of the week, the stone, which the builders rejected, became the head of the corner. What precious associations! A rising Saviour! A Church founded! Now, on the same day, we lay by in store that which may honor the Saviour, add lively stones to the building, send hope to the benighted world. It must be good also to begin the week with this labor of love. Let God have the first fruits of all our time; let the noble object of saving lost men, as co-workers with God, pre-occupy our thoughts and our plans, give tone to our spirit, and direction to all our movements. To commence the week in this manner assimilates earth to heaven, the employments of Christians to the employments of angels. The sanctity and the blessedness of the Sabbath are thus spread over all our time and all the work of our hands. Thus frequently and statedly the Divine Method requires to lay by in store.

2. It is to contribute universally. “Every one of you." Is it a duty to contribute frequently and statedly for evangelizing the world? Whose duty is it? The duty of every Christian. Is it a privilege? Whose privilege? Does our Lord demand the service of every one? Does he not, at the same time, allow every one the privilege? Who is it, then, among all his friends, that is to be exempt from the duty?