David's resignation; and the manner, in which it manifested itself.

I. We will first advert to the grounds of his resignation: Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.' The good Psalmist had done, as every pious parent will do in similar circumstances: he had bowed himself before the most High God, and besought him right humbly for his child. Death had signified it to be the divine pleasure, that the child should be taken to another state of existence. To resist, would be vain; to repine would be fruitless. Our grief may unman ourselves; it may distress our friends; it may unfit us for the discharge of the duties of life; it may offend our God: but it can never call back from the tomb the beloved objects, upon whom Death hath once fixed his unrelenting hand. They hear not our sighs; they regard not our tears. Though rivers of waters should run down our cheeks; though we should give up all the pleasures and pursuits of life, and devote our days and nights to mourning, it would be of no avail. The spirit, once fled, returns no more. We cannot bring it back again.' It is the appointment of that Being, who will not condescend to dispute with us his right to the creatures of his hand. His will must be done. Reason, therefore, on this ground combined her voice with religion's, in inducing the Psalmist to endure with manly submission, what he was unable to amend.

It is true, it would be a melancholy fortitude which these reflections produce, if it were not strengthened and cheered by another consideration. Though fate forbade David to call back to his embrace his departed child, was he separated from him for ever? Was the spark of life, which had been kindled in his babe, extinguished eternally? Was the little offspring of his body struck out of all being, born only to die, fated to a shorter and more joyless existence, than the idle gossamer that floats upon the air? Verily, to the tender heart of the affectionate king, the thought had been insupportable. But he was consoled with far other expectations. The spark of being which the Almighty had kindled in his child, was kindled to burn for ever. The Messiah had consecrated it to immortality. 'I shall go to him,' though he shall not return to me.'

Even in the prospect of being joined to our departed friends in the noiseless tomb, nature finds a solace, suited to the gloomy

state of her feelings in the hour of her bereavement. But David had sung the happiness of walking through the valley of the shadow of death,' [Ps. xxiii. 4.] supported and comforted by God's rod and staff. He had proclaimed on his inspired harp the satisfaction, which the faithful will find, when they behold God's face in righteousness, and awake up from the sleep of death, created anew after his likeness. We may therefore presume, that his views were elevated above the repose, which he should find with his child in the peaceful grave. Faith, doubtless, carried his mind forward to another state, in which the beauteous bud that is removed from this inclement world, before it is blown, expands in wonderful and unfading perfection. He thought of heaven. Hope, the inseparable companion of faith, refreshed his heart with the promise of a period, in which he should find his little one in Abraham's bosom. It was not, therefore, a cause of dejection, that he could not bring his child back again.' God's ways were perfect. It was enough, and he rejoiced that he could say, 'I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.'

II. A resignation, grounded on such considerations as these, must have blessed and exalted the Psalmist's character. Let us briefly notice the manner, in which it manifested itself. Behold, he, who careless of attire lay weeping on the earth, arises and washes himself, and changes his apparel. He, whom no consideration could draw from the place where his child lay sick, goes forth spontaneously into the house of the Lord, and worships.' [2 Sam. xii. 20.] He, whom the elders of his house had entreated in vain to receive some sustenance, himself gives orders to set on bread. He, whom his servants 'feared to tell that the child was dead,' leaves their astonished minds below his fortitude, and discourses with them on the reasonableness and propriety of submission. How majestic in his affliction! What greatness and peace in resignation like this! There is nothing here of the coldness of the stoic, or of the disgusting hardihood of the unbeliever. David's heart was tender. We have seen, during the illness of his child, and may learn from many incidents of his life, that he felt most sensibly what only parents feel. But his acquiescence sprang from a sense of duty. It was the effort of a great mind, greatly endowed with Divine grace, and anxious in all things to honour God.

It is worthy of particular observation, that the first step of the Psalmist in the day of his sorrow, is to the house of the Lord.' As soon as he had attired himself in the garments of decency, he went into the temple. There, we may presume, he confessed his sins to his Maker, especially that flagrant departure from the law of God, which had been the occasion of the death of the child. There, we may suppose, he humbled himself in his prayer, and acknowledged the justice of the Almighty. There, we may believe, he sought the consolation and support of that grace, which descendeth from heaven upon the afflicted soul, as the dew upon the grass when it languisheth. His conduct is worthy of imitation. I know not where the children of sorrow should go, if not to the house of their heavenly Father. It is in the holiness of the sanctuary, that that beauty' is found, which the prophet was to give instead of ashes,' to those who mourned in Zion.' It is in the sacred vessels of the temple, that the oil of joy' is kept, which God's people are to have for mourning.' And here, we trust, when we are assembled in His name,' Immanuel is in the midst of us,' who furnishes from the wardrobe of heaven the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.' Are you then bereaved, or afflicted? Fail not to seek your Maker in the house which He hath chosen to place His name there.' [Deut. xiv. 23.] Go into His tabernacle, and fall low on your knees before his footstool.' [Ps. cxxxii. 7.] Humble yourselves in His sight under his heavy hand. Pour out your griefs before Him, and beseech Him to speak peace to your perturbed bosoms. Trust me, He is a refuge in distress, a very present help' [Ps. xlvi. 1.] in the needful time of trouble.' [Ps. x. 1.] David went into his sanctuary, and was strengthened. And his God is your God, powerful as a Comforter: at whose word the gloomy clouds of sorrow will vanish, and the impetuous tossings of your hearts be still.

6

The subject we have contemplated, though singularly appropriate to those whom Providence has bereaved of their chil dren, is, to us all, both a picture and an encomium of resignation. In vain do we afflict our souls for any of the dead. We

cannot bring them back again.' But we have duties to discharge, while we are continued here; and religion holds out to us the hope, that we shall find them again, when our probation is accomplished. We shall go to them!' Blessed assu

rance in this region of mortality! The tender parent, whose breasts have nourished, and whose prayers have blessed us, slumbers in the dust. The lovely child, whose life and qualities were just expanding to view, is cropped by an untimely blast. The friend of our bosoms, who was dear to us as our own souls, is gone, irrecoverably gone, to that bourn, whence no traveller returns.' We think with sadness, that they once were. We sigh with anguish, that they will be here no more. But we shall go to them.' We shall lie down in the grave together, and our ashes will be mingled with theirs. In the morning of the resurrection, they will revive together. We shall appear with them before the throne of the Lamb. If we have been as little children, we shall enter with them into the kingdom of heaven, where there shall be no more sorrow, separation, nor death; and God shall wipe away all tears' [Rev. xxi. 4.] from every eye. Surely, my friends, if this were delusion, it were a delusion to be prized above all truth. But when we have it assured to us on the word of God; when wę have it confirmed on the testimony of Jesus; when we see the heathen sage, the Jewish patriarch, and the Christian apostle, entertaining the same hope; it ought to produce in us, under all the dispensations of the Most High, a conduct emulous of David's excellence. While the child,' the parent, or friend, is yet alive,' it is becoming to fast and weep: 'for who can tell, whether God will be gracious, that they may live.' But is the will of the Almighty manifested? Wherefore should we fast? Rather let us correct the wishes, which would oppose the providence of the Most High. 'We cannot bring them back again.' But it is given us by the revelation of God, to rejoice with the Psalmist in the consoling expectation, that we 'shall go to them, though they shall not return to us.'

[BISHOP DEHON.]

SERMON XCIII.

SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

GOODNESS OF GOD.

2 SAM. xxiv. 14.--His mercies are great.

THE consideration of supreme wisdom and supreme power which belong to the divine nature, would excite in us wonder, and veneration, and fear: but when to these attributes we join goodness, this most amiable quality seems to add new perfections to all the rest; represents God to us, not only as the absolute Lord, but as the kind parent of all; and makes him the proper object of gratitude and reliance and love. This view of God's nature consoled David under the pressure of divine chastisements. He had vainly trusted in the arm of flesh and by numbering the people, had laid aside his confidence in the protection of God. When inevitable punishment awaited him, it was some alleviation of his distress, to feel assured, that the punishment would be inflicted, not by revengeful man, but by that heavenly Father, who, even in his wrath, remembereth mercy. And David said, 'I am in a great strait, let us fall now into the hand of the Lord; for his mercies are great.'

That this perfection of goodness and mercy belongs to God, may be proved several ways.

1. That God is good appears from the necessary connexion between goodness and other divine perfections. God is su premely wise, and knoweth, beyond a possibility of mistaking, what is best and most beneficial for the whole: he is almighty, and able to execute his purposes; and possessing every thing in which happiness consists, he can be under no temptation to hurt and to oppress others.

thus:

2. The same truth also appears To suppose that God is not good, is to suppose him weaker and more imperfect and worse than the worst of his creatures.

In men, every sin in general, and in particular every sin against the rules of goodness, may be ascribed to the temptation of present profit or pleasure, to a power which the mind hath of fixing its thoughts entirely upon the object which it desires, and of overlooking the ill consequences arising from it,