exposed to the same fearful changes, the same heart-rending sorrows, and even the same final loss, and, at last, brought forth by the same resurrection to stand before the same Judge, with an untried region of life before us; and when we add to this the single word, eternity, even the poor embryo, who scarcely may be called an intellectual being, is to the Christian a precious life.

Once more; the spirit of Christianity is a spirit of joy. Not that the tranquillity of a Christian is not liable to be disturbed by the pains and sufferings of human nature, or that he exhibits the inconsiderate folly of the perpetually riotous and gay. But the state of his affections should be that of humble and devoted traquillity. To rejoice in the paternal character of a Being of whose presence you can never be unconscious, to adore a Being of whose protection you can never despair, or whose direction of your lot you can never suppose to be otherwise than merciful and just, is, surely, all that can be necessary to permanent joy.

It is the spirit of Christianity, to rejoice in the present, the past, and the future. In the present, because our joys and sorrows are not, at this moment, ultimate, but means to a future end. What we call calamity, or good fortune, in the affairs of states, or of individuals, in the eye of a Christian, are only footsteps of the revolutions of Providence, which are not to be dwelt upon with anxious interest. He rejoices in the past, because he has found, in his own experience, that what he dreaded, as sufferings, are truly pleasures in retrospection; and what he regarded as disappointments proved blessings in disguise. He rejoices in the future, because it is God's, and God's only; and, as he approaches the period of his own dissolution, he

finds the western hemisphere lighted up with streaks of setting lustre, and he looks forward, with humble hope, to an eternity of progressive improvement and happiness.

it

My friends, I can extend these remarks no further. Believe me, whatever we may call ourselves, whatever, in the hour of occasional reflection, we may wish to be, remains as certain as the word of God, "if any man have not the spirit of Christ, he is none of his ;" and the fruit of this spirit will always be "righteousness, and peace, and joy in the holy ghost." May God correct our errors, inspire our breasts, and teach us to feel the spirit of his religion!

SERMON VIII.

MATTHEW XXII. 5.

BUT THEY MADE LIGHT OF IT, AND WENT THEIR WAYS.

THE difference in the circumstances of Christians at the present day, and at the introduction of the gospel, is truly astonishing. The change in the external circumstances of the church, and, of course, in the nature of the temptations to which men are exposed upon assuming the Christian name, merit, my friends, our most serious consideration. Then it was a name of unequalled reproach. Christians were everywhere, at first, confounded by the pagan world with the Jews, among whom the new religion took its rise; and the name of Jew was then synonymous with all that was base, odious, and despicable. The situation of Christians among the Jews themselves was even less tolerable than among heathens. They were regarded as apostates from Moses, and traitors to God. The, assemblies of the persecuted disciples were, at first, held in secret, often under ground, and usually in the night. He, who had the courage to enter this community, renounced, by this single act, every worldly prospect, and, not seldom, all the peace and credit of his life. Often was the Christian obliged to sever the tenderest ties of consanguinity, and, instead of love, to meet with hatred; instead of honor, with reproach; instead of peace, with persecution; instead of consequence,

with contempt and obscurity. Do you ask, What was sufficient to induce them to these sacrifices? I answer, in a word, Truth. Do you ask, what they gained in the loss of all the world esteemed? I answer, "The peace of God, which passeth all understanding."

How altered is the condition of the church! The little band of twelve disciples has grown into a vast multitude, which no man can number. Eighteen centuries have been adding, with increasing rapidity, to the numbers, the wealth, the security, the consequence, the triumphs of the Christian world. The profession of Christians is no longer a badge of an enviable, or a dishonorable distinction. A name, which was once the signal of suffering, is now hardly a mark of attention. The Christian, like others, accumulates his wealth in safety; like others, he wears his honors thick upon him. He mingles with the bustling, the pleasurable, and the gay, and no finger of scorn is pointed at him. He may be obscure and useless, and no one explores his retreat; he may be famous, and no one plots against his elevation. Without are no fightings, within are no fears; and the harassed and humble Jesus, who had not where to lay his head, might, if he were to return again to earth, repose, every night, under the rich canopies and lofty ceilings of thousands who bear his name, and feast, every day, at tables where it would be necessary to work no miracle to furnish food for the guests. All, all is peaceful, except the inquietude of ambition, the insatiableness of avarice, and the mutual prejudices and conflicting interests of the followers of the humble Jesus.

Whence, then, this mighty transformation? Can it be, that a community, which originally grew by persecution and contempt, retains its proper character, when there is

neither reproach nor suffering to retard or to promote it? Have we now nothing to contend with, that is worth resisting? nothing now to fear, that can fill us with anxiety, or kindle us with hope? Would to God that the dread of religious sloth, the dangers of worldliness, the temptations to forget our character as Christians, were able to bind us as closely together as the scorn and cruelty of enemies from without! It may be, that the dreadful days of Nero and Diocletian are not to be recollected with horror. It may be, that more souls are now perishing in the debilitating air of peace than were lost to God in all the tempest of persecution. It may be, that we have slumbered, till the last blaze has flashed, and our lamps have gone out.

Of all the subjects which engage the attention of men, religion is, unquestionably, the most important, because it relates to the soul rather than to the body, to God, as well as to society, to eternity, as well as to the present world.

No man has ever thought seriously, as he should do, on this subject, but it must return to him again with more force and frequency after every new contemplation, tending continually to this point, to make religion not only the rule, but the business of his life. A man, who believes nothing of Christianity, may naturally consider it a subject of little importance; but he, who is convinced of its truth, because he has thought of it, will not, cannot, rest at that point. He will consider it incomparably the most important thing in life. It is that to which everything else may be sacrificed, if God should demand it; and this sacrifice may be made without justly exciting wonder, or supposing irrationality. He who is accustomed to consider himself in the light in which the gospel places us all, as a sinful creature, whose hope, here and hereafter, is only in the mercy of