is generally to be desired in addresses from the pulpit. But forasmuch as the facts come together in Scripture, it must be every way right that they be gathered, as we now propose, into one and the same sermon. The facts are these; the first, that it was as the city of his fathers' sepulchres that Jerusalem excited the solicitude of Nehemiah; the second, that Nehemiah found a moment before answering the king, to offer petition to the Almighty. Let us have your close attention to these very interesting, though unconnected topics; our first topic is, the peculiar plea which Nehemiah urges with Artaxerxes; our second, the ejaculatory prayer which went up from Nehemiah to God. Now Jerusalem had not yet received its most illustrious distinction, forasmuch as the fulness of time" had not arrived, and, therefore, there had not yet been transacted within her circuits the wondrous scenes of the redemption of the world. She was reserved for more stupendous and startling things than past days had witness ed, fraught though her history had been with miracles and prodigy: her streets were to be trodden by the incarnate God, and on the summit of Moriah was the promised seed of the woman, bruised himself in the heel, to accomplish the first prophecy, and bruise the serpent's head. Nevertheless, to every man, especially to a devout Jew, there were already reasons in abundance why thought should turn to Jerusalem, and centre there as on a place of peculiar sanctity and interest. There, had a temple been reared, magnifical" beyond what earth beforetime had seen, rich with the marble and the gold, but richer in the visible tokens of the presence of the universal Lord. There had sacrifices been continually offered, whose efficacy was manifest even to them who discerned not their typical import, forasmuch as at times they prevailed to the arrest of temporal visitations, and pestilence was dispersed by the smoke of the oblation. There, had monarchs reigned of singular and wide-spread renown; the fame of one, at least, had gone out to the ends of the earth, and nations had flocked to hear the wisdom which fell from his lips. There, had been enacted a long series of judgments and deliverances; the chastisements of heaven following so visibly upon wickedness, and its protection on repentance, that the most casual beholder might have certified himself that the supreme Being held the reins of government, and was carrying out the laws of a rigid retribution. Hence, it might easily have been accounted for why Nehemiah should have looked with thrilling interest to Jerusalem, even if you had kept out of sight his close connexion with those who were striving to reinstate it in strength, and had not supposed any travelling onwards of his mind to the wonders with which prophecy yet peopled its walls. But the observable thing is, that Nehemiah fixes not on any of these obvious reasons, when he would explain, or account for, his interest in Jerusalem. He describes the city; but he describes it only as "the place of his fathers' sepulchres:" and this he insists upon, as of itself sufficient to justify his urgency, pleading it alike when he would explain why his countenance was sad, and when he stated to the king the favor which he sought at his hands. Before he offered his silent prayer to God, and afterwards, when he might be supposed to have received fresh wisdom from above, he spake, you observe, of the city merely as of the place of the sepulchres of his fathers, as though no stronger reason could be given why he should wish to rebuild it; none, at least, whose force was more felt by himself, or more likely to be con fessed by the king. The language of Nehemiah is too express and too personal, to allow of our supposing that he adopted it merely from thinking that it would prevail with Artaxerxes: if there were truthfulness in this worthy, it was the desecration of his fathers' sepulchres which chiefly disquieted him; it was the wish of restoring these sepulchres which mainly urged to his visiting Jerusalem. Ponder these facts for a few moments; they are full, we think, of beauty and interest. If we may argue from the expressions of Nehemiah, then, it is a melancholy sight-that of a ruined town, a shattered navy, or a country laid waste by famine and war; but there is a more still to perform; that, from graves melancholy sight still, that of a church- wantonly neglected or invaded, there yard, where sleeps the dust of our kin- might always appear to issue the padred, desecrated and destroyed, whe-thetic complaint, "We have nourished ther by violence or neglect. You know, and brought up children, and they have that if poetry or fiction would place its rebelled against us." hero in a position to draw upon himself the pity and sympathy of the reader, there is nothing in which it more delights that in the bringing him, after long wanderings as an exile, to the scenes where his childhood was passed, and making him there find the home of his ancestry deserted and ruined. And as the lonely man makes painfully his way through the scene of desolation, the wild winds syllabling, as it would seem, the names of other days, there is felt to be a depth and sacredness in his misfortunes, which must insure his being the object of a more than common compassion. But, according to Nehemiah, there is another position which is yet more deserving of sympathy. Let us suppose a man to have paid the last sad offices to parents whom he justly revered; he has laid them in a decent grave, and, with filial piety, erected a simple monument over their remains. And then he has gone to distant lands, and worn away many years in separation from all kinsmen, though not without frequent turnings of the heart to the home of young days. At length he revisits his native shore, and finds, as in such cases is commonly found, that of the many friends whom he had left, scarcely one remains to welcome him back. Disappointed at not being known by the living, he seeks the companionship of the dead; he hastens to the village churchyard where his parents sleep; they will speak to him from the grave, and he shall no longer seem lonely. But he can hardly find the grave; the monuments are levelled; with difficulty can he assure himself that the tombs themselves have not been profaned, and the bones of the dead sacrilegiously disturbed. Oh, will not this be the most heartbreaking thing of all? There is something so ungenerous in forgetfulness or contempt of the dead-they cannot speak for themselves; they so seem, in dying, to bequeath their dust to survivors, as though they would give affection something to cherish, and some kind office And we cannot but think that the feelings of the man whom we have thus carried, not to the ruined mansion, but to the ruined mausoleum of his ancestry, would be a full explanation why Nehemiah laid such emphasis on the fact which he selected, when he sought to move Artaxerxes; why he omitted all reference to Jerusalem in its magnificence, to the thrones of monarchs, the schools of prophets, the altars of sacrifice; and simply said, "Why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire ?” We do not, however, suppose that the strong marks of respect for the dead, which occur so frequently in the Bible, are to be thoroughly accounted for by the workings of human feelings and affections. We must have recourse to the great doctrine of the resurrection of the body, if we would fully understand why the dying Joseph "gave commandment concerning his bones," and Nehemiah offered no description of Jerusalem, but that it was the place of the sepulchres of his fathers. And there is no need here for entering into any inquiry as to the degree of acquaintance with the doctrine of the resurrection which was possessed under the old dispensation. If you find language used which cannot be adequately interpreted but by supposing a knowledge of the body's resurrection, it must rather become us to infer that men were then informed of this truth, than to conclude, on any other grounds, that it was altogether hidden. But when you bring into the account the doctrine of the resurrection, it is no longer merely as a man of strong natural feelings, but as an ardent believer in the loftiest truths, that the supposed visiter to the desecrated churchyard might be confounded and overcome. The doctrine of the resurrection throws, as you must all admit, a sacredness round the remains of the dead, because it proves, that, though we have committed the body to the ground, "ashes to ashes, dust to dust," that body is reserved for noble allot ments, destined to reappear in a loftier scene, and discharge more glorious functions. It were a light spirit which should not be overawed amid the ruins of a temple, which should recognize nothing solemn in the mouldering piles which it knew to have once canopied the more immediate presence of God; especially if it further knew, that, on some approaching day, the ruins would be reinstated in symmetry and strength, forming again a structure whose walls should be instinct with Deity, and from whose recesses, as from awful shrines, should issue the voice of the Eternal. The dead body is that fallen temple: consecrated upon earth as the habitation of the Holy Ghost, it decays only that it may be more gloriously rebuilt, and that God may dwell in it for ever above. Therefore is it no slight impiety to show contempt or neglect of the dead. It is contempt or neglect of a sanctuary; and how can this be shown but with contempt or neglect of the Being to whom it is devoted? And there is yet more to be said; the doctrine of the resurrection is the crowning doctrine of revelation; Christ was "raised again for our justification:" "if the dead rise not, then is not Christ raised; and if Christ be not raised, your faith is vain, ye are yet in your sins. Then they also which are fallen asleep in Christ are perished." He, therefore, who would forget, make light of, or deny the doctrine of the resurrection, sets himself against no solitary article of the faith; it is christianity in its integrity which is at stake; it is all that is comforting, all that is saving in its tenets, which is displaced or disputed. He, on the other hand, who is earnest in defence of the doctrine of the resurrection, and eager to show that he values it as well as believes, does not, therefore, confine himself to a single truth of our holy religion: the sufficiency of the atonement, the completeness of redemption, the pardon of every sin, the opening of the kingdom of heaven to all believers, these he sees written, as they nowhere else are, in that general emptying of the sepulchres which he is taught to anticipate-these are preached to him most convincingly by the trumpet of the archangel, whose peal already falls on the watchful ear of faith. Then the well-kept churchyard, with its various monuments, each inscribed with lines not more laudatory of the past than hopeful of the future, what is it but the public testimony to all that is precious in christianity, forasmuch as it is the public testimony that the dead shall live again? Whereas, if tablets be defaced, graves desecrated, and the solemn enclosure surrendered to insult and neglect, it is not merely that the dead are dishonored, and that violence is thus done to the best feelings of our nature; it is that great slight is thrown on all which, as immortal beings, we are most bound to hold dear, a great acknowledgment apparently withdrawn of truths without which " we are of all men most miserable." It is easy and specious to enlarge on the folly of paying honor to the prey of the worm, conveying with so much parade to the grave that which is turning into a mass of corruption, and then, perhaps, erecting a stately cenotaph to perpetuate the name of a certain portion of dust. And satire may readily point bitter and caustic lines, as the corpse of the owner of princely estates is borne along to the ancient mausoleum, in all the gloomy magnificence which distinguishes the obsequies of the great; and ask, with a sort of cutting severity, whether it be not almost like upbraiding the dead, to pour this stern gorgeousness round the most humbling of earthly transactions? But we have no sympathy whatsoever with this common feeling, that there should be nothing of solemn pomp in consigning the human body to the grave. We might have, if we knew nothing of a resurrection. But not whilst we believe in the general Easter of this creation. Not whilst we believe that the grave is but a temporary habitation, and that what is sown a natural body" is to be "raised a spiritual." The funeral procession attests, and does homage to, the doctrine of the resurrection. It is not in honor of the body as mouldering into dust that we would have decent rites, or even, where consistent with rank, a sumptuous ceremonial attending its interment; but in honor of the body as destined to come forth gloriously and indissolubly recon structed. We have no affection for the proud monument, if it were only to mark where the foul worm has banqueted; but we look with pleasure on the towering marble, as indicating a spot where the trump of God" shall cause a sudden and mysterious stir, and Christ win a triumph as "the Resurrection and the life." Then suppose Nehemiah acquainted, as we are, with the doctrine of the resurrection, and we do but find in the emphasis laid upon the fact, that Jerusalem was the place of his fathers' sepulchres, the testimony of his belief in the truths of redemption, and of his desire to make and keep those truths known to the world. "I cannot bear," he seems to say, "that my fathers, who once witnessed from their graves to the most illustrious of facts, should be silent in the dust. I long to give again a thrilling voice to their remains: I would people their cemeteries with heralds of futurity. I may well be downcast when I think of their monuments as levelled with the earth; not because I ostentatiously desire that proud marbles may certify the greatness of my parentage, but because I would fain that men should thence draw evidence of general judgment and eternal life. I mourn not so much that Jerusalem has ceased to be a queen among cities; I long not so much that she should rise from her ashes, to be again imperial in beauty I mourn that her desecrated graves speak no longer of a resurrection; I long that, through respect for the dead, she may be again God's witness of the coming immortality. Oh, why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste? If thy servant have found favor in thy sight, O king, send me unto the city of my fathers' sepulchres, that I may build it." Now it is a wholly different, but not a less interesting subject, to which we have to give the remainder of our discourse. We are now to detach our minds from Nehemiah pleading for his fathers' sepulchres, and fix them upon Nehemiah addressing himself to God in ejaculatory prayer. It is among the most remarkable statements of the Bible, "So I prayed to the God of heaven," coming, as it does, between the question of the king, "For what dost thou make request?" and the answer of Nehemiah, That thou wouldest send me unto the city of my fathers' sepulchres." There is no interval of time: Nehemiah has had no opportu nity of retiring, that he might present supplications to God. He has not knelt down-he has given no outward sign, unless perhaps a momentary uplifting of the eye, of holding communion with an invisible being; and nevertheless, there, in the midst of that thronged and brilliant court, and in the seconds that might elapse between a question and its answer, he has prayed unto God for direction and strength, and received, as we may believe, assistance from heaven. No one can well doubt what it was for which Nehemiah prayed: it may justly be supposed to have been, that God would aid him in preferring his request, and dispose Artaxerxes to grant it. And when you observe that the request appears to have been at once successful-for it pleased the king to send Nehemiah, and to grant him royal letters, which might facilitate the repairs of Jerusalem-you must allow that prayer was not only offered, but answered, in the moment which seemed too brief for all but a thought. Under how practical and comforting a point of view does this place the truth of the omnipresence of God. It is a high mystery, one which quickly bewilders the understanding, and wearies even the imagination, that of God being every where present, incapable, from his nature, of leaving this place and passing to that, but always and equally occupying every spot in immensity, so as never to be nearer to us, and never further from us, continually at our side, and yet continually at the side of every other being in the measureless universe. Yet, with all its mysteriousness, this is no merely sublime but barren speculation, no subject to exercise the mind rather than benefit the heart. It should minister wondrously to our comfort, to know that, whether we can explain it or not, we are always, so to speak, in contact with God; so that in the crowd and in the solitude, in the retirement of the closet, the bustle of business, and the privacies of home, by day and by night, he is alike close at hand, near enough for every whisper, and plente ous enough for every want. It is not so with a human patron or friend, who, whatever be his power, and his desire to use it on our behalf, cannot always be with us, to observe each necessity, and appoint each supply. We have to seek out this friend or patron, when we require his help: probably he is distant from us when the most needed; and we have to send a message, which brings no reply till the season have passed when it might be of avail. How different with God! in less time than I can count, the desire of my heart may be transmitted to this invisible Guardian and Guide, find.gracious audience, and bring down upon me the blessing which I need. If there be opportunity, then truly it may become me to seek audience with greater and more palpable solemnity, prostrating myself reverently before him, as the all glorious King, and giving devout expression to my wishes and wants. But it is not indispensable to the audience, that there should be this outward prostration, and this set supplication. The heart has but to breathe its desire, and God is acquainted with it so soon as formed, and may grant it, if he will, before the tongue could have given it utterance. O that there were in us more of that habit of prayer, which, as with Nehemiah, would not suffer us to make request to man, without first sending up a silent petition to God. When Scripture speaks of praying "without ceasing," and of "continuing instant in prayer," it is generally thought to prescribe what cannot be actually done, at least not by them who are necessarily much occupied with temporal concerns. And if there were no prayer but those most solemn and stated acts, when, whether in private, or in the public assembly, we set ourselves specifically to the spreading our wants before our Father in heaven, these expressions of Holy Writ would have to be interpreted with certain restrictions, or would belong in their fulness to such only as might abstract themselves altogether from the world. But forasmuch as God is always so ready and able to hear that ejaculatory prayer, the sudden utterance of the heart, when there is no place for the bending of the knee, and no time even for the motion of the lip, may obtain instant audience and |