better part here, and the blessed portion hereafter? the nether-springs of earthly comforts, and the uppersprings of heavenly consolation? Must thou be served of Mammon, that thou mayst serve God? And must thou be hired with earthly felicity, to accept of heavenly glory? No, Lord, thou thyself, thy love alone, shall content me for ever; for any thing is too much for me, who deserve nothing; a crumb of mercy is a rich banquet to me, who am a bankrupt at law. What matters it how I fare at the king's gate, since I am the man whom the king delighteth to honour; and shall in a little, with mirth on every side, be brought into the king's palace, there to abide for ever? Surely, then, his time can never be bitter who has the hopes of an happy eternity; nor can crosses greatly vex that soul that is crucified to the world, and the world to him: nor has he any loss to fear who has his treasures in eternity; neither can misfortunes impoverish him who is an heir of the true riches; nor the death of friends distress him whose best friend lives for ever.

I see, then, I only want one thing to make me happy; and that is, to know the precious things of my treasure, and that I am so happy. Speak, and I am blessed for ever; speak the heavenly word, "All things are yours, and ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's."

MEDITATION XIV.

DEATH.

1757.

THERE is a lesson that concerns the whole world,

which yet few of the world lay to heart; and that is, that all men are mortal. If I ask at the practice of the universality of mankind, it denies it. If I return and ask at my own breast; why, I confess I must meet with death, but conclude myself immortal for the present, and so hold easy for the time being, though multitudes drop down around me. Ah! when do I think on death, or suppose its approach near? Many foolish pleasing scenes of life do I act in my fancy, but how seldom the final scene of dissolution! When do I represent myself to myself, laid on a sick-bed, on a death-bed, with broken groans, cold sweats, trembling joints, languid looks, an intermitting pulse, and all the signs of death, while friends bewail about me? Or, when do I run through the more interesting part of the scene, how, when I leave the world, matters may stand between my soul and God? How I shall appear before the majesty of Heaven, and, stand in the tremendous judgment? Strange! Is this the practice of one who knows, and would fain belieye, he must die? Pious kings have had their sepulchres hewn out long before their death, that every time they saw them, they might, in the midst of all their pomp and glory, see where they must shortly lie.In this even heathens shame me, of whom some have, by their own orders, had monitions of their own mortality made to them daily; while others have set the

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skulls of the deceased at their tables, to moderate their mirth, and remind them of mortality.

When I look abroad in the world, scenes of sorrow are every where to be seen. Sometimes both

parents taken away from a young family of helpless orphans. At other times, the rising pillars, the apparent support of their aged and infirm parents, are snatched away from the gray-headed mourners !Who shall quarrel with Omnipotence, whether he cut down the olive plants from about the table, or break the tree from amidst the dependent sprigs? Indeed, it is hard to persuade fond affection into silence, or to attain to resignation under the loss of a beloved friend. For when my renewed part is prostrate at the throne of the all-wise Disposer, then my corruption is apt to rise into rebellion against the doings of the Most High. But whether have I most interest in my nearest relations, or in God? Is one creature more connected with another creature, by any tie, than the Creator of both? What do I pray for, but that the will of God be done? And yet, if it come near my family, I take again my word, and would have my will preferred to God's! All I am, and have, are God's to dispose of, how and when he pleases; who will never infringe his justice, or forget his bowels of compassion, even in my afflictions!

Would not I glorify God in my life and in my death? and why not also in the death of my friends? He glorified himself in their life, therefore they existed; he glorifies himself in their death, therefore they are not. Will I pull and draw with God? or tell him, he cannot have my friends yet, for, though they have served their generation, yet they have not served my fond affection? An excess of grief here

bewrays my want of love to God, to my relations, and to myself. For if I love God, I will be glad that his will be done with me and mine, even to death. If I love my friends, I will be happy in their happiness; and if I love my own soul, I will bless God for taking away friends, when like to come too much between my love and my Beloved, and like to take up too much of my affection from "the chiefest among ten thousand."

Death and life, earth and heaven, time and eternity, the footstool and the throne, are thine. Can I then bewail my friends, of whose felicity I have the cheerful hopes, that they are brought from death to life, translated from earth to heaven, from time to eternity, and from the footstool to the throne? They are above the reach of sorrow; and, on that account, shall I be below the reach of comfort? Though carnal ties are dissolved in death, yet the spiritual relation ceases not. So it matters not where the family dwell; for even in heaven they are exalted members of our exalted Head, and I a militant member of the same exalted Head; thus, though far scattered, some in this world, some in the other world, yet all shall be convened together in "the general assembly and church of the first born," free from sin, free from sorrow. Almost my anguish would convert to joy, did not streams of briny grief pollute the chrystal current, and recal my ponderous loss. But what call I loss? Absence, not loss. They are found of God dwell in and with God, and in what respects are they lost? Just I see them not, I hear them not. What is that to them who are so happy? and what should it be to me who know them to be so happy? I would adventure a friend far from home, to a foreign country, there to make a fortune, if informed by every

post of his prosperity. But here I am sure, not only of their felicity, but of its perpetuity. Whatever my loss be, let me look to God for a supply of all. And since I have not them fondly to talk with, let my soliloquy be to God; and as my love cannot penetrate into the pulverizing sepulchre, to hug their putrefying clay, nor enter eternity to find out their disembodied soul, let it return and empty itself alone on God.

Now I see the vanity of the world; death, when sent, pities not the life of the poor, spares not the rich, but is faithful to his charge, and cannot be corrupted. They are happy in leaving me, and going to God; I am happy in losing them, and returning to God. God has broken, as Hezekiah did the brazen serpent, the idol to whom I gave incense, only due to God, and called it a piece of clay. But now may the sweet hopes of a blessed immortality banish the sorrows of present dissolution, and mitigate my grief; the more so as I need not sorrow like them that have no hope. A little, and I am no more; soon my dust shall mingle with theirs, and wait that joyful trumpet, that shall summon every happy slumberer to immorality and bliss.

MEDITATION XV.

COMMUNION WITH GOD, WHAT IT IS.

COMMUNION with God is an expression often in my mouth, but which sinks no further; I know the word, but neither its blessed import, nor glorious extent. My prayers and practice jar; for while I beg