-are not the unavoidable sufferings of mankind, numerous and terrible enough? Can you wish the life of mortals, to be shorter, or death more certain, or more dreadful?

Do not consumption, and poverty, and pestilence, and fevers, render the days of man sufficiently uncertain and miserable? Why, then, will you wantonly add all the undescribable horrours of war, to the long catalogue of human woes?

At home, on a bed of down, surrounded by dearest friends, do you wish the agonies of death more terrible?

Go near the bed of a dying parent, or a dying child; behold the agonies of their last hours. Are not their anguish and misery enough for them to endure, or for you to witness?

Would you wish they were far off on the ocean, to meet a violent death, without a friend to soothe the last moment; without the consoling offices of religion? Would you tear them from their pillows, and send them to expire on the field of battle

Do you, indeed, wish to multiply the sufferings of life, and aggravate the horrours of dissolution? Do you wish the tears of the widow to flow with keener anguish? Do you wish the shriek of the orphan more dismal? Do you wish the king of terrours, a wider range, a more rapid march, a more frightful appearance? Do you wish more domestic sorrows, more public calamities, more sighs and groans to load the air, more tears to water the world?

If not; then implore and beseech the God of peace, to stop the fury of war; enrol your name among the friends of peace, and join in the song of angels; "Glory to God in the highest; on earth, peace, and good will towards men." Amen.

SERMON II.

JUDE 6th verse.

Unto the judgment of the great day.

2 PETER iii, 7.

But the heavens and the earth are kept in store, reserved unto fire, against the day of judgment.

THE ruins of a garden, the fading of a flower, the falling of a leaf, are ungrateful to the sight. The wreck of a ship, a house on fire, a sickly child, a dying parent, the mouldering bones of a tomb, awaken our pity, and diffuse a gloom over our minds. A tribunal of justice, the venerable judges, the celebrated advocates, the gazing multitude, the opening jail, the trembling prisoners, the able pleadings and the solemn verdict, is a scene to move and awe the heart of man. How much more affecting is the day of judgment, or the dissolution of all things; when the charms of nature must be defaced, and nature herself expire. Not only the flowers of spring, and the richer fruits of autumn, but palaces and cities vanish; the sun and stars dissolve; darkness and desolation follow.

The subject is forbidding to a gay world; but not therefore to be neglected. The first Christians looked forward to the last day with hope and transport, as to a glorious jubilee. Times are changed; still we should not divest ourselves of discretion and reason. Wise men foresee and prepare for evils, which are unavoidable, or only probable. They bring home to their minds the sufferings of their fellow creatures, and build hospitals. The conflagration of a city is a dreadful event; yet the citizens, instead of pushing the danger from their thoughts, form themselves into societies, and furnish themselves with engines to extinguish the flames. Though the expectation of death be terrible, men sometimes write their own wills, appoint their successors, direct where their bodies shall be buried, or build their own tombs.

A familiar contemplation of the great day may be equally wise, and a preparation for it more useful, than any of those deeds of wisdom and discretion.

The general expectation of such a day by all ages and nations, is evidence of its reality. A day of judgment is an article of almost every creed in the world. In this all parties of Christians unite. In this Pagans, and Jews agree. This doctrine is taught, not only in the churches of Jesus Christ, but in the mosques of Mahomet, and in the temples of the heathen gods. The Brahmins of India, the Magi of Persia, the Druids of Europe, taught the doctrine of a future judgment. The colleges of Egypt and Chaldea gave their testimony to support the solemn fact. In all the pomp of song, the bards of other times described the terrours of Minos, and the other judges of

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the invisible world. Though tradition and allegory had obscured its splendours, the beams of truth burst the mantling clouds of errour and displayed the day of judgment as a tremendous scene.

What has commanded so general assent has high claim to our belief.

The frequent judgments, which overwhelm the wicked in this life, are presumptive arguments in favour of a general judgment. The miseries of Cain, of Achan, and Judas, were the day of judgment in miniature. Belshazzar and Voltaire, Herod and Robespierre, dying in torment, were witnesses of a judgment to come. If God thus visibly punish some sinners, it is highly probable that he will judge all sinners. But all are not judged in this life. These strongly argue for a day of general retribution.

Listen to that designing wretch, in the guise of friendship, prating of fidelity, of honour and truth, yet secretly practising every species of enmity against his greatest benefactor.

See yonder plausible hypocrite; a splendid Bible graces his parlour; he pleads for the clergy and the Sabbath, for public worship, and the Christian religion. He would be thought as temperate as Daniel, as pure as Joseph, as penitent as David, and as orthodox as Paul. He gains his point; his good name is as precious ointment: yet in his heart he despises the Christian religion; he detests the gospel ministry; and among his companions he ridicules the church, and scoffs at the doctrines of the cross. Is there not a day of judgment?