ry feature of the landscape, every tree | my Son was stretched to deliver you of the forest, every flower of the gar- from death: you were too busy, or too den, every joint and every muscle of proud, or too unbelieving, to give ear my frame, all are gifted with energy in to the invitation; and I pleaded in vain, proclaiming that there is a Supreme though I pleaded as the conqueror of Being, infinite in wisdom and goodness your every foe. And in many an hour as well as in might; and through each, of temptation, in many a moment of therefore, may this Being be affirmed guilty pleasure, amid the noise of buto knock at the heart, demanding its siness and in the retirements of solilove and allegiance. And God knocks, tude, I have knocked so loudly, through as you will all allow, by the visitations the instrumentality of conscience, that of his Providence: he knocks, more- you could not but start, and make some over, by the suggestions of conscience faint promise of admitting me hereaf and the strivings of the Spirit. Who ter; but, alas, when I looked for the is there of you who will presume to say opening of the door, you have but barthat he never heard this knocking? red it more effectually against me. We know better. We know that, in the worst storm and mutiny of passion, when the heart itself has been the scene of conflict and turmoil, the wild and battling inmates have often been startled by an appeal from without; and that, for a moment at least, there has been the hush as of shame or of fear, so that there has been space for an energetic remonstrance, a remonstrance which, if it failed to produce permanent order, left a heavier condemnation on the wretched slave of the flesh and its lusts. It is not then difficult for God, or for Christ, to show that this has indeed been his course with you all-"I stand at the door and knock." But you have opened the door to a thousand other guests; you have received them into the recesses of the heart; but Him you have coldly repulsed, or superciliously neglected. O, we fear that he may say to too many of you, I stood, and knocked in the hour of prosperity, but ye gave no heed to a message delivered in the form of abundance and gladness. I came in the darkness and stillness of adversity, thinking that you might open to me when you were careworn and sad; but you chose other comforters, and I asked you in vain to receive "the Lord of peace." I called you through all the glories and all the wonders of the visible universe; but it availed nothing that I wrote my summons on the firmament, and syllabled it alike in the voices and the silences of immensity: "ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof." I gave you my word, I sent to you my Gospel; but it was to no purpose that I knock-offer of everlasting life. ed with the cross, the cross on which What have you to say against this Ah, if it be by such a reference to the modes in which he has knocked at your hearts, but knocked in vain, that God conducts his side of the controversy, what can you have to plead? It is in very moving terms that he urges his accusation. I have long and tenderly watched you. I have spared no pains to turn you from evil. By mercies and by judgments, by promises and by threatenings, I have striven to fix your thoughts on the things which belong to your peace. I counted nothing too costly to be done for your rescue: I spared not mine own Son; and I have borne, year after year, with your waywardness and ingratitude, not willing that you should perish, though you have acted as if resolved that you would not be saved. And now "testify against me." "What could have been done more to my vineyard that I have not done in it? Wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes?" Is it that you have not been warned, though I have sent my servants to publish my terrors? is it that you have not been entreated, though I have charged them with the tidings of redemption? This, to sum all, is my accusation against you. Ye have derived your being from me, ye have been sustained in being by me, ye have been continually the objects of my bounty, continually the objects of my long-suffering; and nevertheless, ye are still unmindful of my hand, still living "without God in the world," still walking in ways of your own devising, still crucifying my Son afresh, and putting away from you the those who rendered him hypocritical service, "your new moons, and your appointed feasts, my soul hateth; they are a trouble unto me, I am weary to bear them?" We will not then dissolve the court. It is so startling a consid accusation? we do not believe that you will attempt to say any thing. We are persuaded, that, as it was with the man who had not on the wedding-garment, you will be speechless. Ay, but God shall not want an answer, he shall not want a verdict, because, self-con-eration, that we should be actually able demned, you have no word to utter. Not in vain hath he summoned the mountains and the strong foundations of the earth to be present at his controversy with you. The very hills have witnessed his loving-kindness towards you, clothed as they have been with the corn, and crested with the fruits, which he has bountifully provided for your sustenance. And on one of these mountains of the earth was the altar erected on which his Son died; and so fearful was the oblation, that Calvary shook at the cry of the mysterious victim. And now, therefore, whilst he charges you with ingratitude, whilst he arrays against you the continued provocations, the insult, the neglect, which he has received at your hands; whilst he speaks of abused mercies, of despised opportunities, of resisted entreaties; and you remain silent, unable to refute the charge, and yet unwilling to acknowledge its truth-there is a sound as of heaving rocks, and of foaming torrents, and of bursting volcanoes; nature, which became vocal when a Mediator died, utters a yet deeper groan now that a Mediator is rejected: and hill and forest, and rock and flood, send forth one mighty cry, the cry of amazement that men should neglect so great salvation," the cry of acknowledgment that the Almighty has made good his accusations. ९९ And are we here to dissolve the court? Man has failed to show wherein God has wearied him; but God has drawn a verdict from the inanimate creation that he himself has been wearied by man. It is a strange expression to use; but it is quite consistent with the language of Scripture, that we should speak of God as wearied by our sins. "Ye have wearied the Lord," we read in the prophet Malachi, "yet ye say, wherein have we wearied him?" Hear," saith Isaiah, "O house of David; is it a small thing for you to weary men; but will ye weary my God also?" And did not God himself say, by the mouth of the same prophet, to to weary God; the thing, if done, must entail so terrible a condemnation, that we may well remain yet'a few moments longer within the august chamber which was built for the controversy, to ponder our state, and examine what has been proved by these judicial proceedings. It is very clear, that, if God may be wearied, we may exhaust his patience, so that he may be provoked to leave us to ourselves, to withdraw from us the assistance, of his grace, and to determine that he will make no further effort to bring us to repentance. And on this account especially it is, that there is such emphasis in the words of our Savior, agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the way with him." Try not his patience too far; venture not actually into court with him; but quickly, without any further delay, seek to compose your difference, "lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison." It is this counsel which we would pray God might be imprinted by our discourse on those of you who have not yet been reconciled to their Maker. You have indeed come this night into court, and you have been altogether cast in your suit. But the trial has not been that which will fix your portion for eternity. It has only been with the view of alarming you, of bringing you to see the perils of the position in which you stand, that God has now entered into controversy with you, and summoned you to plead with him before the mountains of the earth. And the verdict against you, which has been delivered by hill and forest, is but a solemn admonition, a warning which, if duly and instantly heeded, shall cause a wholly different decision, when you appear at that tribunal whose sentences must be final. The mountains and the strong foundations of the earth, yea, the whole visible creation, may again be appealed. to: they may again be witnesses, when God shall arise to judgment, and calling that its rich juices were distilled quick and dead to his bar. It gives a to produce a false joy. The precious very sublime, though awful, character metals of the earth are all stamped to the last assize, thus to regard it as with accusation, for they were sought imaged by the controversy in our text. with a guilty avidity; the winds of I see a man, brought to the judgment- heaven breathe a stern charge, for they seat of Christ: the accusation against were never laden with praises; the him is, that he lived a long life in ne- waves of the great deep toss themglect and forgetfulness of God, enjoy- selves into witnesses, for they were ing many blessings, but never giving traversed by ships that luxuries might a thought to the source whence they be gathered, but not that christianity came. Who are witnesses against him? might be diffused. Take heed, man of Lo, the sun declares, every day I wak- the world, how thou dost thus arm all ened him by my glorious shinings, nature against thyself. Be warned by flooding the heavens with evidences of the voice which the inanimate creation a God: but he rose without a prayer is already uttering, and make peace from his couch; and he made no use with thine adversary "whilst thou art of the light but to prosecute his plans in the way with him." Thine adverof pleasure or gain. The moon and sary! and who is this? Not the sun, the stars assert that "nightly, to the not the moon, not the troop of stars, listening earth" they repeated the story not the forests, not the mountains: of their origin; but that, though they these are but witnesses on the side of spangled the curtain which was drawn thine adversary. The adversary himround his bed, he lay down, as he rose, self-oh they are words which almost with no word of supplication; and that choke the utterance!-the adversary often were the shadows of the night himself is the everlasting God. Yet he used only to conceal his guiltiness from wishes to be your friend: he offers to man. Hills and valleys have a voice: be your friend: there is nothing but forests and fountains have a voice: your own determination which can every feature of the variegated land- keep you at enmity. By the terrors of scape testifies that it bore the impress the last judgment, by all the hopes, of a God, but always failed to awaken by all the fears of eternity, do I conany reverence for his name. There is jure such of you as have not yet not an herb, there is not a flower, which made peace with their God, to turn at will be silent. The corn is asserting once to the Mediator Christ: "God that its ripe ears were gathered with- was in Christ, reconciling the world out thankfulness: the spring is mur- unto himself;" and now he beseeches muring that its waters were drawn you through us, "Be ye reconciled unwithout gratitude: the vine is testify- to God." SERMON XI. HEAVEN. "And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever."-Revelation, 22: 5. Our position upon earth is represented, as you well know, in Scripture as that of combatants, of beings engaged in a great struggle, but to whom is proposed a vast recompense of reward. The imagery which St. Paul delights to use, when illustrating our condition, is derived from the public games so famous in antiquity. The competitors in a race, the opponents in wrestling, are the parties to whom he loves to liken himself and other followers of Christ. And the imagery is employed not only as aptly depicting a state of struggle and conflict; but because they who entered the lists in the public games were animated by the hope of prizes which success was to procure; and because, in like manner, it is the privilege of christians to know that, if they be faithful to the end, contest will issue in an "exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Shame upon the spiritual combatants, the apostle seems in one place to say, if they can be languid in exertion. A paltry recompense will urge the wrestler, or the runner, to submit to painful training, and to strain every muscle. Shall we then, with heaven full in view, grudge the toil, or spare the effort, which may be needful to secure a portion in its joys? "They do it to obtain a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible." If however the prize is to produce its just influence in animating to exertion, it must be often surveyed, that we may assure ourselves of its excellence, and therefore long more for its possession. The competitor in the games had the honored garland in sight: if inclined for a moment to slacken, he had but to turn his eye on the coronet, and he pressed with new vigor towards the goal. It should be thus with the christian, with the spiritual competitor. He should have his thoughts much on heaven: he should refresh himself with frequent glimpses of the shining inheritance. By deep meditation, by prayerful study of the scriptural notices of another world, he should strive to prove to himself more and more that it is indeed a good land towards which he journeys. He should not be content with a vague and general belief, that the things reserved for those who love God must be worth all the efforts and sacrifices which attainment can demand. This will hardly suffice, when set against the pleasures and allurements of the world: he must be able to oppose good to good, and to satisfy himself on the evidence, as it were, of his own affections, that he prefers what is infinitely best in preferring the future to the present. And certainly he may do this. Without speaking unadvisedly, or enthusiastically, nay, speaking only the words of soberness and truth, we may safely say that those who muse much on heaven, who ponder its descriptions, and strive to image its occupations and enjoyments, are often privileged with such foretastes of what God hath prepared for his people, as serve, like the clusters of Eshcol, to teach them practically the richness of Canaan. With them it is not altogether matter of report, that the inheritance of the saints is transcendently glorious: it is alrea dy true in part, that, "as they have heard, so have they seen in the city of their God." They have waited upon the Lord, until, according to the promise of Isaiah, they have been enabled to "mount up with wings as eagles;" they have gazed for a moment on the street of gold, and have heard the harpings of the innumerable multitude. Now if it be thus of exceeding importance to the christian that he should often meditate upon heaven, it must be the duty of the minister to bring before him occasionally those descriptions of the world to come, which God has been pleased to furnish in his word. And a very delightful part this is of ministerial duty. We are often constrained to set forth the terrors of the Lord, though natural feeling would make us shrink from dwelling on the vengeance which will surely overtake the careless and unbelieving. We are obliged to insist very frequently on the first principles of christianity, laying the foundation of repentance from dead works, and of faith towards God." And it is not a rare thing, that sermons have to take a reproachful character, exhibiting the sins and inconsistencies of professors of godliness, upbraiding the defective practice of those who name the name of Christ, and urging them, in no measured terms, to "walk worthy of the vocation wherewith they are called." But it were a great mistake to imagine that the preacher consults his own inclination, in selecting such topics of discourse. Far more agreeable to him would it be to dilate upon privileges, to address his hearers simply as heirs of immortality, and to exhaust all his energy on the lively hope to which they are begotten. But this must not always be, whilst congregations are composed of the believing and the unbelieving, whilst probably the majority is with the latter, and whilst even the former come far short of "adorning the doctrine of God the Savior in all things." Still, as we have already said, the clergyman is not only permitted, he is bound, to take heaven occasionally as his theme: and a very refreshing thing to him it is, when he may devote a discourse to the joys which are in reserve for the righteous. Come then, men and brethren, we have no terrors for you to-night, no reproaches, no threatenings. We are about to speak to you of the New Jerusalem, the celestial city, into which "shall enter nothing that defileth," but whose gates stand open to all who seek admission through the surety ship of Christ. We select one verse from the glowing account which St. John has left us of the vision with which he was favored, after tracing, in mystic figures, the history of the church up to the general resurrection and judgment. The two last chapters of the book of Revelation, inasmuch as they describe what was beheld after the general judgment, must be regarded as relating strictly to the heavenly state. The book of Revelation is a progressive book: it goes forward regularly from one period to a following; and this should be always borne in mind when we strive to fix the meaning of any of its parts. It has so much the character of a history, that the dates, so to speak, of its chapters will often guide us to their just interpretation. And since the twentieth chapter closes with the setting up of the great white throne, and the judgment of every man according to his works, we conclude that what remains of the book belongs to that final condition of the saints, which we are wont to understand by heaven and its joys. This being allowed, we may go at once to the examining the assertions of our text, applying them without reserve to our everlasting inheritance. The assertions are of two kinds, negative and positive. They tell us what there is not in heaven, and what there is. Let these then furnish our topics of discourse, though in treating of the one we shall perhaps find it needful to trench on the other. Let us consider, in the first place, that there is no night in heaven, no candle, no light of the sun: let us consider, in the second place, that there the Lord God Almighty shall give the saints light, and that "they shall reign for ever and ever." Now we may begin by observing to you, that, with our present constitution, there would be nothing cheering in an arrangement which took away night from our globe. The alternation of day and night, the two always making up the same period of twenty-four |