of the charmer, charm he never so wisely, is no longer heard; and motives which should influence moral agents we can no longer perceive. We are carried to our long home, and the clods cover us till the heavens be no more.

Our immortal part goes to the world of retribution where no voice of inviting mercy shall ever be heard, if it has not been heard on earth. The gospel is not proclaimed among the miserable beings who have set at nought all its gracious provisions while the time of their merciful visitation lasted. He who refused to hear Moses and the prophets while they lived on earth, will not be invited to hear them when residing in the regions of the damned. They who refused to credit the testimony of God, will not be permitted to profit by their own experience so as to escape from the evils which they were warned would overtake them. Though the happy spirits of heaven may be seen afar off, yet a great gulf" will for ever debar all approach to them. In vain will a drop of water be called for to cool their parched tongues. Abraham and all holy beings, will stand aloof with infinite abhorrence; and despair will brood over them without relief, or the least gleam of hope to alleviate for a moment their anguish. IV. The time of death is uncertain. No usefulness, or happiness, or love of life, can shield us from the arrows of the destroyer. One man lives to a good old age, and goes to his grave, as a shock of corn folly ripe is gathered into the garAnother lives to see a family depending upon him for support, and then is hurried away by the hand of death. Another just takes a survey of the path of life, and fancies a thousand flowers, and calculates upon a thousand enjoyments, and he is cut down and deposited in the grave. Another just opens his eyes, and then shuts them for ever.

One on whom the fondest hopes are placed, whose opening mind fills all its friends with joy, and who ere long promises to be the prop of age and the ornament of society, is called away from all terrestrial scenes. Another whose character is oppo site in every respect, falls too, and is seen no more. One whose situation in society seems to be such that all dependence is placed upon himone whose counsels, or whose prayers, or whose every exertion seems to be needed-is laid aside as useless; and he who doeth all things after the counsel of his own will, teaches us that other instruments can accomplish his purposes. The sprightly youth whose eye beams with activity and intelligence, whose every motion is dignity and grace, is removed from us when he thinks not of it. The hoary head is laid low when hope bade us reckon many more years to roll over it. He who to-day sits and speculates with indifference on the awful message of God, and he who hears that message with thoughts wandering like the fool's eyes, to the ends of the earth, and he who devoutly endeavours to obey it, all alike may tomorrow be the victims of the grave. Death tells us not of his approach. He snatches from our arms our dearest friends, and leaves us to mourn for a little while, and then clasps us in his cold embrace. Though the time of death's approach is uncertain; though we know not what a day may bring forth; yet one thing we know, that he will not refuse to take us when God gives him the commission. The time of his coming cannot be far distant, with any of Youth, nor health, nor vigour, nor any thing else, can give us security; nor can any of these things diminish the truth of the assertion, that the time of our sojourning here is short. The places which now know us will soon know us no more for ever.

118.

V. The consequence of death, or that which follows it, is the judgement. Death, as I have already observed, closes our season of trial. What then more proper than that the judgement should be pronounced? Our lives then receive a review which is impartial. No little prejudices can influence Him who occupies the throne; no partialities that would overlook our defects of character; every thing must be exposed in the light of day. And this judgement must be final. No appeal can be had to a superior tribunal; for the universe does not know such a one. No hope can be entertained of escape. Those piercing eyes that see through the inmost recesses of the heart will easily discover us whenever we may think to hide ourselves.

The grand question which will then decide our endless fate is simply this-whether we have believed on the Son of God; or, in other words, whether we have been followers of Jesus Christ, or sincere Christians. The riches, or honours, or other distinctions of earth, will not be inquired into, except to know how we have used them: whether we have squandered away our property upon our lusts, or whether we have fed the stranger and the fatherlesswhether we have lived to ourselves, er to God. We shall then know whether we have indeed loved the Lord Jesus Christ and endeavoured to obey him, or whether all our professions have been like sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. The joyful or the dread rewards will await us. Heaven's everlasting gates will open to receive us, or the harsh gratings of the infernal doors will summon us to our prison. The judgement will finish our trial, and seal us for ever and ever in happiness or woe. Our ears will always be tuned to the delightful harmony of heavenly music, or be grated upon by the wailing and gnashing of teeth which the world beneath will constantly exhibit.

This judgement then will not be

in vain. God who appoints it will see that its sentence is executed. He who is not a man that he should lie, or the son of man that he should repent;-He whose decrees can never be rendered void;-He will pour out the vials of his wrath upon those whom he threatens, and will fill with joy unspeakable and tull of glory those who receive his promises. God's word must be accomplished. Let God be true, though the consequence should be that every man isproved a liar.

The

The

Lastly. The season to prepare for death, and the judgement which follows it, is the present. voice of wisdom and of God declares, with an emphasis greatly increased by every year that passes over us, " Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." The present time is all that we have, and all that we are sure of having. The past is gone, and cannot be recovered. wheels of time continually go forward, but never go backward. The days that are past are recorded in the book of God; their honours, their pleasures, their griefs, their anxieties, their duties, their sinsall are gone, irrecoverably gone. We have no concern with them now, but to review them and ask them what report they have borne to heaven. There is a day coming, that day "for which all other days were made," when we must review the past, and abide the decision of Infinite Wisdom as to the character it has formed for us. Perhaps our days are already numbered and finished. Future ones we may never The future is totally blank to our view. It lies hidden in the counsels of Him whe directs the affairs of the universe. The messages of grace are delivered in our hearing to-day: we may know nothing of them to-morrow. We may then lie groaning under the wreck of reason, and incapable of listening to the sweet accents of forgiving mercy. The sabbath, with all its blessings now shines upon us, and tells us of its great Author, asable and willing to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by Jesus Christ : the future may bring along with it no sabbath and no blessing from Him who blesses so that none can curse. The present spreads before us life and strength: the future may soon clothe us with weakness and death. The gloomy funeral investments may be soon ready to enrobe our bodies; and the grave about to receive them. Though we may build a thousand castles for our future babitation; yet they may soon prove to be only castles in the air, which a slight breeze may destroy for ever. Though we may strew the future with flowers, and imagine that their fragrance will fill us with delight; yet all our fine imaginations may soon be dissipated by the coming reality. Though we may calcutate on many days to secure our interest in another world, yet God may have appointed that few more shall ever roll over our heads, or that our last day on earth should be even now casting its sun upon the mountains. The future then we have not, and may never have. It lies only with Him who " declares the end from the beginning and from ancient times things that are not yet done," to determine whether futurity shall ever tell us of the messages of mercy; whether the awful scenes of judgement shall not open upon us to-morrow. Now is the day of hope. Now is the day to secure the blessedness of the soul, the holy rewards of eternity. The voice of the present, is, "Seek ye the Lord while he may be found-call ye upon him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him turn unto the Lord who will have mercy upon him, and to our God who will abundantly pardon." This is the language of the present. Futurity is silent. She presses her hand on her mouth, and is forbidden to re

move it, till she changes into the present. She may then hold the same language to us, and she may not. She may tell us of the mercy of God; and she may fill us with the terrible conviction that mercy is over with us. She may light up our path with the smiles of God's favour; and she may kindle around us the flames of eternal death.

Death then takes place by God's appointment; the reason of it is sin; the effect of it is the finishing of our probationary state of existence; the time of it is uncertain; the consequence of it is the judgement; the season to prepare for it is now :-these simple and obvious reflections have arisen to my mind out of the sentiment of the text, that " it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgement." The purpose for which I have laid them before you, it will be readily perceived, is founded in the season at which, by the good hand of our God upon us, we have arrived. We are now standing on the threshold of a new year. Another portion of our state of probation has just closed, and a new one begun. We have seen the changes of the year which is gone: those, of the year which is now commenced, are yet wrapped in the impenetrable veil of futurity. You have often, during the progress of the last year, cheered each other on the occurrence of happy events, and have smiled together in many a joyous scene. You have wept together too, no doubt,in the house of mourning; and have been often surprised by the sudden departure of those whom you loved and honoured, to the mansions of silence. You have repeatedly followed the slow-moving hearse to the house appointed for all living, and have beheld it bear away from your sight, the aged and the young, the tender parent, and the amiable child, the beloved friend in the midst of usefulness, and the promising youth on whom many hopes were placed. The tears of some have flowed till the fountains were dried up; and they could only sit down in the silence of unutterable grief.

Many of those who are gone hence listened, no doubt, the last anniversary of the new year, to the monitory voice of the preacher; and thought as little of being so soon removed to the shades of death as you now do. But their seats in the sanctuary are now vacant: their voices here are heard no more. They belong now to the great congregation of the dead, where silence must reign till the time when all that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the Son of God and shall come forth. What their eternal state is, another day shall tell us, and shall fix ours too.

Such being the fact, who can look forward with certainty to the future? When the events of this year on which we have just entered shall be written on the tablet of the past, what will be recorded of us ? Methinks I see the parting scene of some fond parent which called tears from every eye, described by the pen of history as a past event that moved the sympathy of a numerous circle of kinsfolk and acquaintance. Methinks I see it written that such a frolicksome youth was arrested by the pale messenger, his laughter turned into sadness, his body clothed with the melancholy shroud, and shut up in the coffin. Methinks I see the startled looks of of his companions as they receive the solemn tidings of his exit, and I hear the faint resolutions of living a new life that they may be prepared for an equally sudden departure from the world. Methinks I see it written also that these resolutions passed away like the morning cloud and the early dew. Perhaps it will be recorded that some man of business had all his plans frustrated by the untimely visit of the destroyer, and his head laid low in the comfortless tomb. Some one who reads this, perhaps, will have passed 1826. No. I.

3

through the scene of viewing his dearest friends anxiously bending over his dying bed, and some one of them kindly wiping the cold sweat from his forehead as he was about to sink into the arms of death. Perhaps it may be remembered by those who shall survive, that he anxiously looked forward to the appearance of the Judge who should take account of all bis actions, and that having put off the subject to so late a period, God did not vouchsafe to grant him assurance of acceptance at his bar. Perhaps too, some saint who is now devoutly waiting for his redemption from sin will be this year delivered from all his woes, and made for ever happy; and when the record of the year shall be inspected, it will be found thus written : "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from henceforth; yea, saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them."

Such may be among the facts which this present year, when numbered with the past, shall exhibit to the view of the living as matters of history. A thousand events may transpire which shall change the face of all things in regard to us. Known only to God are the events before us. Could I lift the veil which conceals the future from our view, I would not do it. Far happier is it that we know not what shall be on the morrow. Far better, that we trust ourselves and all we have in the hands of Him who doeth all things well.

With such a feeling let us begin this new year. Let the events of the past teach us, that "here we have no continuing city." Let us remember that the time is short; that whatever our hands find to do must be done with our might, for there is no work nor device in the grave whither we hasten. When we look back on the past and see all classes of men cut down without discrimination; let us acknowledge the hand that has done it, and hear the voice that sounds from the grave to all of every age, "Be ye also ready, for in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of inan cometh" Count not, reader, upon future years. They may dance before your imagination, and yet never appear in the reality. If you ever intend to accept the offers of salvation, now is the time. If you ever expect to enter the abodes of ever

lasting happiness, the present moment is the time to secure your title. A little postponement may be your ruin-a few more days may open to you the terrible prison of the universe, and its awful recesses may frown upon you as your everlasting habitation. Who can dwell with devouring fire? Who can lie down in everlasting burnings?

For the Christian Spectator. OBSERVATIONS OF AN AMERICAN IN ENGLAND

Ir may be proper to repeat here, that the following observations consist of miscellaneous extracts of letters from agentleman, now resident in England to a friend in Connecticut. Our correspondent states, that they were written occasionally as the author could find leisure from other objects, and with out any reference to publication. They were commenced in the eleventh number of our last volume, and will be continued as we may find room for them.

"The English carry agriculture to great perfection. Every spot of ground capable of cultivation is improved. Wherever I have been, the fields are generally small, enclosed by hedges, and made perfectly smooth, by means of cast iron rollers. Numerous trees are left to grow around the hedges, and scattered over the fields. These are so nicely trimmed, as to add greatly to the beauty of the country. Not a weed is suffered to grow. The crops all look well, and are much more productive than ours. The cattle and sheep feed on grass up to their knees, and look, as we should say, fit to kill. The slight enclosures that keep them in their pastures, would be but a poor protection against our lean, half-fed, unruly animals.

Here the cattle have no need to break fences. They have food sufficient within their own domains. I came here under the impression that the country was bare of trees. On the contrary, I find it better stocked in this respect than the thick settlements of our own country. We wantonly destroy trees as if they were of no value: here they are planted and nursed with as much care, as though they bore choice fruit.

-"Mr. G. and myself walked out to Aston Hall, two miles from Birmingham. It is memorable in history as being one of the places in which Charles I. secreted himself from his pursuers. Cromwell's troops, in passing the hall, threw some shot into it without knowing or even suspecting that it contained the royal fugitive. I knocked at the porter's lodge, and asked for admission. The reply was that his master did not admit any one except on business. We had to content ourselves therefore with only an outside view. The park is very extensive, and is enclosed by a highbrick wall two miles in circumference. The great avenue opening upon the Sheffield road, is about half a mile in length, on each side of which are about 65 trees, apparently the growth of centuries. Great