to provide for eternity? What tremendous guilt and hazard if this moment is abused,-if, right in the eye and ear of God, there is a refusal to act. My immortal friends, I cannot hold my peace. In the midst of this awful crisis, and environed with all these solemn obligations, here you are holding out against God. Instead of falling dissolved at his feet under mercies so wonderful and distinguishing, you are fighting against him,-you are hating him ; -you never loved nor thanked him; you are rejecting the Saviour and putting your own duties in the room of his atonement and righteousness and intercession; you are rejecting the Spirit and putting your own power in the room of his proffered assistance; you are disobeying the Spirit and refusing to do any thing that he suggests except the outward form, and are taking strong measures to grieve him from you forever. You are wrong in every thing and do nothing right. How long shall this abominable state of heart continue? How long shall this horrid ingratitude remain? O that you knew, in this your day, the things which belong to your peace, before they are hidden from your eyes. Why should you hold out against God another moment? He commands you, O rebel, now to lay down your arms. Will Will you obey God and live, or will you disobey him and die? I wait for your reply. What answer shall I carry back to him that sent me? All heaven is waiting to hear; what is your answer? Shall I come around among those seats and ask you one by one, what is your decision? Have you made up your mind? Why this

delay? Ah and you will delay; and some of you, I fear, will go back to seven fold darkness,-to infidelity itself, to open vice,-to an early grave,to a hell lower than that of pagans,—than that of devils. How distressing to think that any of you should turn this affecting grace of God into an eternal curse; that you should have to look back from the profoundest deeps of hell to this blessed season, and pour forth the heart-rending and perpetual lamentation, "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."

Before I conclude I must address a few words to the impenitent in general. When I consider the infinite and eternal evils into which you are plunging, "for the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt." To think of seeing you eternally crying for a drop of water, is more than I can bear. And why will you die? Why need you die? "Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there?" Is there no mercy in the heart of God? "As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live." If there is any sincerity in the God of truth, your blood must be upon your own head. You are deliberately committing the highest and most flagitious act of suicide. Stop, I beseech you, that murderous hand. Have mercy on your own soul. When you shall see your former companions in heaven, who fled to Christ in this revival, and you yourselves eternally cast out, what agonies of regret will fill your soul. Then we can no longer pray for you nor pray to you. We must

acquiesce in your damnation, and say, Alleluiah, as the smoke of your torment ascendeth up forever and ever. But at present the thought is very afflicting. How does it seem to you? Would you for ten thousand worlds be found at last in the circumstances which have been described? I can say no more; and "if ye will not hear,-my soul shall weep in secret places for your pride, and my eye shall weep sore and run down with tears, because the Lord's flock is carried away captive" to that land from which there is no return. Amen.

SERMON XII.

WHAT WILT THOU SAY WHEN HE SHALL PUNISH THEE?

JER. XIII. 21.

What wilt thou say when he shall punish thee?

The time had come when God was about to call the Jewish nation to an awful account. While the storm of war was gathering in the north, and had almost rolled itself to their door, the distressed prophet was sent to say to them, "Thus saith the Lord, Behold I will fill all the inhabitants of this land-with drunkenness, and I will dash them one against another, even the fathers and the sons together. I will not pity nor spare nor have mercy." This holy man, who was disciplined to grief from his infancy, whose tones seemed always the sounds of a breaking heart, set himself to mourn over them and entreat them. "Hear ye and give ear; be not proud, for the Lord hath spoken.—But if ye will