only sojourners here, and have no continuing city, but are seeking one to come; seek not, therefore, your rest in this world, nor be too solicitous about the things of it, but may you always keep your heavenly country in view, and make it your greatest concern to arrive safely there. Cherish the graces of humility, meekness, temperance, and purity; and persevere in a uniform and constant observance of all the filial, parental, social, and civil duties of our holy religion, animated by the cheering prospect that your light affliction which is but for a moment, worketh out for you a far more exceeding and eternal wait of glory, while you look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; because the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen, are eternal.

Permit me, my friends, before I close my remarks, to address myself to another class of my hearers-to that part of this assembly who as yet have never entered into the service of God. I have time now left, having extended this address to great length, only to make a single remark. Fellow-sinner, you are already aware that it has been a time of great interest on the subject of religion in this village, for several months past. A great multitude, many of whom are your intimate acquaintances, have become obedient to the faith. They are now providing themselves with bags that wax not old, a treasure in the heavens that fadeth not away. Remember that you must die as well as they, and it is only by becoming a sincere Christian, that you can be prepared for that solemn event. Those who live and die in sin can never see God, but must be banished from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power. O think of that solemn hour, when the sinner will be surprised by the unexpected approach of death-little did he expect, and ill is he prepared for this solemn event-its approach fills him with horror. Overwhelmed by this sudden appearance of death, the sinner finds himself totally unprepared for that separation which is now inevitable. Every tie that is now broken asunder, becomes a wound which rankles in his heart; every separation becomes a new death to his mind. He is now torn from the riches, which he has accumulated by toil and labor, and to which his heart is still glued-from the pomp, splendor, and magnificence of the world which surround him, and for the enjoyment of which he has a keen relish-from all the honors of life, which have been lavished upon him with a profuse and liberal hand, and which are still his boast and his glory-from his relations and friends, whom he sees surrounding his bed, and whose tears and lamentations wring his heart, and make him cruelly feel the anguish of losing them forever-from his body, for whose gratification he had always lived, and with which, by favoring all its passions, he had contracted such lively and intimate ties. He feels his habitation of clay to be crumbling to dust; he feels the approach of death in every one of his senses; he is no longer

bound to life, but by a carcass which moulders away, by the cruel agonies which his disease makes him feel, by the excess of his love for it, and which becomes more lively in proportion as he advances towards the moment of separation. Finally, he is torn from the world, where are all his riches, his splendors, his honors, his desires, his pleasures, his friends, and his hopes. His body quits them, but his heart is placed upon them; the world dies to him, but he lives to the world. Everything is annihilated around him; he stretches out his hand to grasp the objects that environ him, but, alas, he seizes nothing but fleeting shades, which again escape from his hand.

It is now an awful moment with the expiring sinner. His eyes seek some resting-place, some object of comfort, and they find everywhere only the dreary images of death; while the thoughts of futurity convulse him with horror and despair. That futurity, that region of darkness, which he now approaches alone, accompanied only by his conscience; that futurity, that unknown land, from which no mortal has ever returned, where he knows not whom he may find, nor what awaits him; that futurity, that fathomless abyss, in which his mind is lost and bewildered, and into which he must now plunge; that futurity, that tomb, that abode of horror, where he must now take his place among the ashes of his ancestors; that futurity, that incomprehensible eternity, the slightest glance of which he cannot support; that futurity, in fine, that dreadful period of judgment in which, before the wrath God, he must now appear all polluted with sin, all stained with crimes.

It is now, that the expiring sinner, no longer finding in the remembrance of the past, but regrets that overwhelm him; in the present, only images which afflict him; in the thoughts of futurity, only horrors which appal him; no longer knowing to whom he can have recourse; neither to created beings, who now leave him; nor to the world, which vanishes from his sight; nor to men, who cannot save him from death; nor to the just God, whom he looks upon as a declared enemy, and from whom he has no indulgence to expect; feels a thousand horrors occupy his thoughts; he torments and agitates himself in order to fly from the death which now seizes him, or at least to fly from himself. From his expiring eyes issues a certain dark and gloomy expression, which exhibits the fury of his soul; in his anguish he utters words which are rendered unintelligible by his sobs, and to which the bystanders know not whether repentance or despair gives birth. He is seized with convulsions, which they are ignorant whether to ascribe to the actual dissolution of the body, or to the soul which feels the approach of its judge. He sighs deeply; and they know not whether the remembrance of his past crimes, or despair at quitting life, forces from him such groans of anguish. At last, in the midst of these melancholy exertions, his eyes fix, his features change, his countenance becomes disfigured, his livid lips convulsively sepa

rate, his whole frame quivers; and by this last effort, his unfortunate soul tears itself reluctantly from that body of clay, falls into the hands of its God, and finds itself alone at the foot of the awful tribunal, there to be judged according to the deeds done in the body.

But the spirit of prophecy has foretold a more terrible day of the divine displeasure, than that which we have described-a day when the wrath of God shall burn to the lowest hell-a day when he will rain upon the wicked fire, and snares, and brimstone, and an horrible tempest-a day that is emphatically styled THE GREAT DAY OF HIS WRATH. It shall be ushered in with the sound of a trumpet, and the voice of the archangel-the signal shall be heard by the sleeping millions, who shall come forth from their dusty beds-the sea shall cast up its dead, and roll on the majestic wave its living forms to the shore-the living shall be changed in a moment in the twinkling of an eye-and all shall be caught up into the regions of the air-the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll, the elements melt with fervent heat, and the earth and the works thereof burnt up. In the midst of these august scenes, fear and dismay will seize the ungodly; in their frantic rage they shall gnaw their tongues for pain, and shall call upon the rocks and mountains to fall upon them, to hide them from the presence of God, and to shield them from the wrath of the Lamb-but rocks and mountains shall flee away, and deny their friendly protection. The Judge shall descend in awful grandeur to take vengeance on them that know not God, and obey not his gospel. He shall proclaim, as when seven thunders utter their voices, bring hither these mine enemies, that would not that I should rule over them, and slay them before me. And, O my God, will the unconverted, who hear me this day, be among the number? will they appear before this awful tribunal naked and unprepared to meet their Judge? will they be exposed in that awful period, to that devouring wrath which will consume their souls?

My friends, we have consecrated this solemn fast to avert this impending storm, which ere long will burst upon the guilty heads of the wicked. And how many of our parents, and our children, and our companions, and our associates, are among the number of the wicked, and exposed to the fiery indignation of the Almighty? and can we bear the thought of their going on in sin, and finally laying down in sorrow? Will that awful sound fall upon our ears, Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels? Shall these eyes behold the flaming sword of divine justice unsheathed against those bound to us by the strongest ties of nature? Shall we see them, all pale and ghastly, sinking down into the shades of darkness, to rise no more? O come, fellow sinner, and unite with us to-day, in rending the heart, in weeping over the perishing condition of man, and in calling upon God to avert this impending storm of divine wrath! O God, save the

ungodly from the power and dominion of sin; save them from the corroding cares of the world; save them from the snares of the devil; save them from the pleasures of sense; save them from the fear of death and the horror of hell; O save them from the storm of vengeance in the great day of wrath!

ARTICLE XI.

On the Doctrine of Divine Influence.

By the term divine influence, I mean the agency of God operating upon the souls of men, by which they are illuminated, disciplined, and improved; all that support which God affords in temptation, trial, and sorrow; all that spiritual aid which he imparts to man, for the moral and religious improvement of his character here in this world, and by which he is prepared for a higher state of being in the world which is to come. In the discussion of this subject, I propose to show, that God not only grants to men the outward dispensations of his word to be the ordinary means of their conversion and sanctification, but, also, the inward operations of his Holy Spirit.

I. And, in the first place, we observe, that it is highly reasonable that such an influence should be imparted. God has created man, and placed him here in this lower world in a state of trial; and what is more reasonable than to suppose, that he should hold an intimate intercourse with the souls he has called into being? There is nothing absurd, irrational, or difficult in the supposition. God has given to man all his powers and capacities, and is intimately acquainted with all the laws by which his mind is governed, with all the springs which excite him to action, and with all the avenues which lead to the heart. By elevating or depressing his spirits, he can present new views to the mind; by an impression upon the brain, he can excite a new train of thought and reflection; and by touching the springs of action in the heart of a man, he can add intensity to the slightest emotions that affect him. Thus God, in a thousand ways, can give to men clearer ideas, quicker apprehensions, and more extended views of divine truth. He, indeed, when no miracle is wrought, can lead man to any result-can interpose, and influence, and guide him to will and to do, of his good pleasure, by the agency of those laws which govern the human mind. Thus we see, in the very constitution of man, that God has made provision for the exercise of his moral providence, by which he is to be disciplined and improved, and, finally, prepared for a higher state of happiness and felicity. We, therefore, consider the doc

trine of divine influence in accordance with every principle of reason, and a denial of it as most irrational and absurd.

Again, it is obvious that the presence and agency of God with the human mind may be inferred from all his perfections; since it is irrational to suppose that these perfections would exhaust themselves on inferior objects, and leave untouched that Spirit of man, for the use and development of which, all things else were made. For instance, we ascribe to God spirituality. But can we conceive of an inactive Spirit? And if it be admitted that this Infinite Spirit is active, that it pervades, as the life-giving principle, all creation; that it is the first cause, the continuing power, and the last and of all material things; can we believe that it avoids or neglects the soul of man, which is the brightest image of it? Again, we ascribe to God, Omnipresence and Omnipotence. We maintain, that God is present in every part of space by an all-pervading, all-controlling energy; that he is above us, around us, and beneath us; and shall we make an exception of the human soul, and affirm that this energy, which is everywhere else, never touches the human heart, never impresses the mind of man?

Once more, the doctrine of a divine influence rests upon the same foundation as the doctrine of a particular providence; indeed, it is a branch of the same doctrine. They must stand or fall together. They rest upon the same evidence, and are proved by the same arguments. By a particular providence, we mean, that care which God extends to every part of creation, to the smallest as well as to the greatest events, to all the parts as well as to the whole of creation, and is as complete in a grain of sand as in-a world, and is as regular in the actions of an individual as in the conduct of a nation. Indeed, neither the natural, nor the moral government of God, can be carried on in any other way. The results to which nations are guided, depends upon the conduct of the individuals which compose them. We are not to suppose, that the energy of God is exhausted upon nations and communities, and that individuals are left untouched by it; for the energy of God is infinite. That Infinite Being who guides the sun in his course, who marshals the host of heaven, who gives motion to the planetary system, and life and being to the ten thousand forms which inhabit the earth, also watches over the good man in his cottage; kindles devout aspirations in his heart, and accepts the homage, the praise, the adoration, he offers to his Maker. How delightful to look upon a world of human beings, all under the care and government of God-a God whose infinite energy turns the hearts of men, as the rivers of water are turned, restraining the wrath of one, and kind ing the devotion of another; guiding this man to one conclusion, and that man to another; bringing order out of confusion and good out of evil; and thus performing all his will and all his pleasure; and yet no miracle is wrought, no man's free agency is invaded. That this doctrine is true, is evident from the fulfil