But those distinctions of age, and beauty, and rank—where are they? Have they attended those who sank, as they went up to the bar of God? Vanished-all vanished-before the sea was made calm where they sank; and alike the prince and the peasant, the master and his slave, make their bed amidst the corals of the ocean. There was but one distinction that lived If there was piety in one heart and wickedness in another, they lived on. The distinction that survived the catastrophe, and the only one, was that which was made when the penitent heart yielded itself to God, and was born again.

on.

IV. I suggest one other thought, which will require no time to prove or illustrate it: it is, that there will be of necessity no such change in death as to fit the soul for heaven. And if this is so; if man by nature is unfit for heaven; if no change which he ordinarily undergoes fits him for it; if he can substitute nothing in the place of a renovated heart to fit him for heaven; and if death will make no such change as will adapt him to the employments of the skies,—then it follows that there is a necessity for man to be born again. And that it is so, assuredly I need not now attempt to prove. What is the change at death? The rose of health fades from the cheek; the brow is "chill, and changeless;" the eye is closed, and in that lifeless form there is a mild angelic air,"

66

"Before decay's effacing fingers

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,"

but there is no religion in that change. At death, we are borne away indeed from the world where we were tempted; the objects that with idolatrous affection we loved; the allurements of wicked companionship; the assembly-room, where, in festive mirth, we forgot God and provoked his wrath;—but there is no religion in that. All that is solemn, tender, affecting on the dying bed may be gone through, and still there be not a particle of religious emotion there. And is there some magic powersome potent charm in the grave-in the long slumberings there -in the solemn stillness-in the withdrawment from scenes of gaiety, and temptation—to change the heart, to wean the soul from the world—to prepare even the body there for the resurrection of the just? Or is there something in the solemn, lonely journey of the departed spirit up to God-some new efficacy of the blood of the atonement to be applied to the soul on its upward way to fit it for the skies? Surely none of these things can be pretended :-and if none of these things are so, then there is a necessity that the sinner should be born again before he dies.

The argument which I proposed to submit to you is now before you. It is not an argument addressed to you as if there were any doubt about the meaning of what the Saviour says in the text, or as if his authority were not a sufficient ground for the truth of a doctrine; or as if the truth of what he says could be confirmed by any reasonings of mine ;-but an argument designed simply to show that what he says commends itself to every man's conscience and sober judgment.

The only thought which I would seek to hold before your minds in the application of this subject is, the indispensable necessity of this change for every one of you if you would be saved. Whether it is to be produced by a Divine or human agency; whether you can effect it yourselves or not; whether you can by your own efforts contribute to it, or whether those efforts would be fruitless, are not points which we shall now discuss; nor is their solution necessary in order that the force of the considerations suggested should be properly felt. The single point which is before us now is, that this change is indispensable if you would enter into heaven. Every one; every son and daughter of Adam; every prince and every peasant; every master and every slave; every profligate and every moral man; every one who outrages all the laws of decency and urbanity, and every one who is the charm and glory of the social circle, must experience this change, or he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. He must experience it, unless the Saviour was wrong in his estimate of the human character, and has uttered what is not based on truth. He must experience it, unless he can show that his heart is such by nature that he is fitted for the enjoyments and employments of heaven; or unless some of the transitions through which he passes in life will answer the purpose; or unless he can substitute something else for it at the bar of God; or unless there will be some mysterious process in the grave, or beyond it, by which the body and the spirit shall be fitted for the skies. The language of the Saviour to all is, "Ye must be born again." Reason gives her sanction to that declaration; conscience echoes it in your ears; and pious kindred and friends seek to bear it to the heart. Every man feels and knows it to be true, when he will let conscience speak out; when he has any just view of his own heart; or when from a bed of death he looks out on eternity. The solemn declaration of God our Saviour on this subject, thus seconded by reason and conscience, is laid across the path of every aged man, of every one in middle life, of every youth, and of every child. Of the crowd that you meet in the thronged pathways of a great city,

it is true that no one reaches heaven unless he is born again; and of the solitary stroller in a summer's eve on the verge of a purling stream, or the lonely traveller on the mighty prairie, it is no less true that unless he be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God. It is equally true of each and every one of you that without this change you will never enter heaven. The heart must be changed. The impenitent soul must become contrite; the proud man must be humbled; the unbelieving must put his trust in the Son of God. And if the course of argument now pursued is sound, the subject is one that demands your immediate attention. Few days remain in which this change can occur, and then all will be fixed for ever. Soon the time will come in which it will be said of each and all, "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he that is holy, let him be holy still." God grant that before that time-not far distantshall have arrived, each heart may be so changed that it may convey gladness to the bosom to hear it said that all hereafter is to be fixed and unchanging. The line once crossed which divides time from eternity, all is over for ever; for in the world of despair no one is ever born again.

SERMON XIX.

THE NATURE OF REGENERATION.

2 COR. v. 17.-"If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."

THE point which I propose, from these words, to illustrate is, the nature of regeneration, or of the new birth. The apostle evidently refers to this in the text. He is adverting to the great change which had occurred in his own mind on a particular subject, and then advances the general. sentiment, that when one becomes a Christian all his views are changed, or become "new." "We have," says he, “known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him no more." That is, 'I formerly had carnal and worldly views of the Messiah. In common with my countrymen, I looked for a temporal prince and deliverer. But I entertain these views no longer, and regard him no more as such. My views of him are essentially changed, and I now regard him as a spiritual Saviour, dying to make an atonement for sin.' A change resembling this, he says, occurs in the case of all who are converted. If any man is in Christ, or becomes a true Christian, his views are in a similar manner changed;—changed to such an extent that it may be said he is a new creature, for the change of view does not pertain merely to his apprehensions about the Saviour, but extends to everything. In reference to all matters, "old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."

This statement expresses, with perfect accuracy, the change which occurs in regeneration. It is a change of view not merely with reference to one particular point, but to the whole subject of religion; a change so great that it may be properly called a new creation, or of such a nature that all things may be said in the view of the mind to be new.

It is my object now to illustrate the nature of this change; and, in order to this, it is important that we have clear views on two points. The first is, that we separate from the work certain things which are not essential to it, or in reference to

which there may be considerable variety; and the second is. that we understand what is essential to it. These are the two points which I propose now to examine.

I. There are some things which frequently accompany a change of heart, which are not essential to it. That is, in the circumstances and feelings attending it, there may be considerable variety in different individuals. This diversity relates to such points as the following, which it is important particularly to specify, because erroneous views have often given great occasion of distress :

(1.) In regard to the duration of the seriousness, or the conviction for sin, which usually precedes a change of heart, or is experienced before evidence is obtained of conversion. Some duration of time, as a season of serious reflection, or of deep and pungent conviction for sin, usually precedes conversion, and seems to be inevitable. The change is a rational change, and occurs in connexion with a serious consideration of our condition as sinners, our danger, and our need of the mercy of God; and indeed the change does not usually occur except as the result of a careful and earnest inquiry into the character of our past lives, and of much solicitude about our final welfare. But no particular duration of time is specified in the Scriptures as necessary to reflect on our condition preparatory to conversion, and in fact there is great diversity. In some instances conversion is preceded by anxiety that has continued without much intermission for months or years; in others, there has been a succession of deep convictions for sin, like successive shocks of an earthquake, each followed by calmness and unconcern; and in others the whole work seems to be accomplished in a few hours or a few moments, and to all appearance it may be as genuine in the one case as in the other. Many causes contribute to this variety. The temperament of the individual as phlegmatic or sanguine; the kind of instruction imparted to him then or before; the circumstances in which he is placed, binding him with greater or less tenacity to the world; the state of religion in the church—as a time of general coldness, or a time of revival; or the want of proper counsel from his friends, or of proper sympathy from those who should help him on to God,—all tend to modify the time during which this work is taking place on the soul. Some have been taught, or have somehow imbibed the opinion, that a protracted "law-work" is necessary before they can be converted, and they expect this of course, and would be alarmed at any speedy evidence of a change of heart; and some, better taught, feel that the moment there is genuine