which we are taught to consider as the native seat of the soul. There we form connections that are never broken. There we meet with friends who never die. Among célestial things there is firm and lasting constancy, while all that is on earth changes and passes away.

Such are some of the fruits we should reap from the tender feelings excited by the death of friends. But they are not only our friends who die. Our enemies also must go to their long home: Let us, therefore,

III. Consider how we ought to be affected, when they from whom suspicions have alienated, or rivalry has divided us; they with whom we have long contended, or by whom we imagine ourselves to have suffered wrong, are laid, or about to be laid, in the grave. How inconsiderable then appear those broils in which we had been long involved, those contests and feuds which we thought were to last for ever! The awful moment that now terminates them, makes us feel their vanity. If there be a spark of humanity left in the breast, the remembrance of our common fate then awakens it. Is there a man who, if he were admitted to stand by the death-bed of his bitterest enemy, and beheld him enduring that conflict which human nature must suffer at the

last, would not be inclined to stretch forth the hand of friendship, to utter the voice of for giveness, and to wish for perfect reconciliation with him before he left the world? Who is there that, when he beholds the remains of his adversary deposited in the dust, feels not, in that moment, some relentings at the remembrance of those past animosities which mutually embittered their life?" There lies "the man with whom I contended so long, "silent and mute for ever, He is fallen, and "I am about to follow him. How poor is "the advantage which I now enjoy? Where "are the fruits of all our contests? In a short "time we shall be laid together; and no re"membrance remain of either of us under the

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sun. How many mistakes may there have "been between us? Had not he his virtues "and good qualities as well as I? When we "both shall appear before the judgment-seat "of God, shall I be found innocent and free "of blame, for all the enmity I have borne to "him ?"- My friends, let the anticipation of such sentiments serve now to correct the inveteracy of prejudice, to cool the heat of anger, to allay the fierceness of resentment. How unnatural is it for animosities so lasting to possess the hearts of mortal men, that nothing can extinguish them but the cold hand of

death? Is there not a sufficient proportion of evils in the short span of human life, that we seek to increase their number, by rushing into unnecessary contests with one another? When a few suns more have rolled over our heads, friends and foes shall have retreated together; and their love and their hatred be equally buried. Let our few days, then, be spent in peace. While we are all journeying onwards to death, let us rather bear one another's burdens, than harass one another by the way. Let us smooth and cheer the road as much as we can, rather than fill the valley of our pilgrimage with the hateful monuments of our contention and strife.

Thus I have set before you some of those meditations which are naturally suggested by the prevalence of death around us; by the death of strangers, of friends, and of enemies. Because topics of this nature are obvious, let it not be thought that they are without use. They require to be recalled, repeated, and enforced. Moral and religious instruction derives its efficacy not so much from what men are taught to know, as from what they are brought to feel. It is not the dormant knowledge of any truths, but the vivid impression of them, which has influence on

practice. Neither let it be thought that such meditations are unseasonable intrusions upon those who are living in health, in affluence and ease. There is no hazard of their making too deep or painful an impression. The gloom which they occasion is transient; and will soon, too soon, it is probable, be dispelled by the succeeding affairs and pleasures of the world. To wisdom it certainly belongs that men should be impressed with just views of their nature and their state; and the pleasures of life will always be enjoyed to most advantage when they are tempered with serious thought. There is a time to mourn, as well as a time to rejoice. There is a virtuous sorrow, which is better than laughter. There is a sadness of the countenance, by which the heart is made better.

THOUGH human nature be now fallen from its

original honour, several good remain in the hearts of men.

principles still There are few,

reverence for a

if any, on whose minds the Supreme Being continues not, in some degree, impressed. In every breast, some benevolent affections are found, and conscience still retains a sense of the distinction between

moral good and evil. These principles of virtue are always susceptible of improvement; and, in favourable situations, might have a happy influence on practice. But such is the