stimulous of what he saw around him and perceived attainable, that he pressed on towards distinction. It was the moral and religious character of society which he constantly felt, preserved him from being wrecked upon the shoals of youthful folly. Had he been born in the sunny South, his eloquence, though moving, might have been less permanent in its effects. Had his birth place been the West, he might have displayed great, but unbalanced power, and have been fruitful in schemes that were mighty, but not conducive to the best welfare of the nation. Or he might have imbibed the grasping, warlike spirit, and thus have become a great curse to the land. Had he been born in France, he might have been a Napoleon. But, born and educated in New England, he has blessed the country and the world. His efforts and eloquence have been those of Webster. In early life he made a public profession of religion, and his own decision harmonizing with the influences of family and friends, and of the region of country in which he was educated, shaped the direction of his mind. At one period, he contemplated the work of the Gospel Ministry. This shows the view he then entertained of the true end of existence, the glory of God. Although he has not written sermons, he probably never made a speech of any importance into which was not interwoven more or less of religious truth. When the occasion afforded, he proclaimed the supremacy of man's moral nature, and portrayed the power of conscience in a manner full of terror to the transgressor. Often has his language been repeated from the sacred desk. So it will be, and his forcible description of the conscience-smitten sinner, and his beautiful tribute to the value of the preaching of the gospel, will be read while the English tongue shall exist. Is it not eminently fitting that this son of the Puritans should sleep in death among the ashes of the Sires?

That he should have selected this spot is an evidence of the simplicity of true greatness. It was in harmony with his character and productions. There was about him no false glare, no military glory, and perhaps as little of the pomp of the artificial distinctions of society as could well comport with his real greatness and his position in public life. In casting his lot in death with the Pilgrims, he has shown that he wished to be identified with them. So Jacob chose not his grave in Egypt, but would be carried up to Canaan. So Joseph afterward gave commandment concerning his bones.'-Prime minister as he was of Egypt, he might have been placed by the side of the Pharaohs. But the faith of Joseph in his youth, was with

Joseph in his old age. And when his oppressed descendants went out of Egypt they did not forget his direction.

In future years many will be the pilgrimages to the tomb of Webster, as for half a century multitudes have directed their steps to Mount Vernon and the tomb of Washington. When your eyes and the vision of many, a century hence, shall rest upon his epitaph, we all shall know and posterity will feel, that it was his desire and last effort to be known in the spirit with those venerated men whose religion brought them to these shores.

never

The last topic of reflection is that we have been the ones to follow him to his grave. His direction was that his funeral should be conducted in an unostentatious manner, and that his family and neighbours should attend his body to its last earthly resting place. Thus he has been buried. His funeral was private, and yet such a private funeral was before witnessed. Such a gathering in this vicinity was never before known. Nor will it be again. The most gifted and honoured of our country, yes the nobles of England, would have regarded it a privilege to have borne him to the tomb. But he selected for the purpose his neighbours, these among whom he died. Here again is the simplicity of greatness.

And now that the scene is over, what are our reflections upon the great event? Distinction among men, tender affection and human skill avail nothing against the Great Destroyer. This we have often heard. Now we have seen it exhibited. We have been taught an impressive lesson of the vanity of all things earthly. The great and the small must alike pass into eternity. On the sick bed and in the hour of death they need the same consolation. They must be guided by the same Gospel, and confide in the same Saviour. They must alike trust in the merits of another. No man is so great

as to be able to contend with death. None is so high as to overawe Jehovah. None has so many friends, as to be in a situation to do without Jesus Christ. None is so virtuous as to be exempt from exposure to condemnation.

And death is approaching. We may reach our three score years and ten, but beyond the line of divine appointment we cannot go. The most of us will never see the full period of human existence. Some will die children. Some will die in youth. Some will reach middle life. Accident will cut off one. Lingering disease will slowly undermine the foundations of another. Thus, my dear hearers, we shall steadily pursue our way into eternity, and in a few years we all shall be there. Yes, we all shall be there. Our bodies will be

die is gain.' 'I have a desire to depart, and to be with Christ; which is far better.' Does not the beloved disciple tell us that he heard a voice from heaven, saying, 'Write, Blessed are the dead, who die in the Lord from henceforth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.' Glory be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that these things are written in his faithful Word. We receive them, and we rejoice in them, as the very truth most sure. Thanks be to Him who died, and rose again, and lives for ever, that, by his own death and resurrection, He has changed the character of death, taken away its sting, and deprived it of all power to hurt his people. Blessed be his name, that He has removed its penal nature, and has converted it into his own messenger, for summoning his redeemed into his presence, and presenting them faultless before his throne. Still, while we admit all this, and rejoice in it with exceeding great joy, we are warranted to speak of death as an enemy. Were not this the case, why lift up the song of triumph? O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law; but thanks be unto God who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.' Now, the question is, in what respects may death be said to be an enemy to the people of God?

1. Death may be considered as an enemy, because it is the fruit of sin. It is not unusual to hear death spoken of as the debt of nature, but the Bible speaks of it in very different terms, and represents it as the wages of sin. By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned.' Had our first parents continued in the state of innocence in which they were created, they and their posterity would have been immortal. Pain and disease, decay and dissolution, would have been unknown. Death was the penalty threatened in the event of transgression; and after the penalty had been incurred by transgression, the sentence came forth, 'Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return.' We are mortal, because we are shapen in iniquity, and conceived in sin. We derive, from our original progenitor, a depraved nature, and are born under the curse of that law which he violated as our federal head-therefore, our days are few, and full of evil; therefore we pass our years in vanity, till at length our breath is taken away; we die, and return to our dust. Seeing, then, that death is the wages of sin, and that it is the penalty of the law inflicted because of transgression, it may well be regarded as an enemy.

The people of God, it is true, are redeemed from the curse of the law; their sins are forgiven; and any affliction that befalls them is corrective, and not penal. But still death, though disarmed of its sting by the Saviour who died for them, is the fruit of sin, and comes to them as a testimony from God against sin. It is, therefore, an enemy, though it is constrained, in opposition to its nature, to do the work of a friend.

2. Death may be considered as an enemy, because of the fear and aversion with which it is regarded. Men are naturally unwilling and afraid to die. They shrink from death with instinctive shuddering, as the last and greatest of calamities. It is, in fact, the highest penalty known to human laws. The severest punishment they can threaten to deter men from the commission of those crimes which they judge to be the most atrocious and injurious to society, is death. Hence we learn that death is universally regarded as an enemy, the most grim and terrible that fear can conjure up. We have not to do at present with wicked men, else we might speak of that dread of death which haunts them, and which, in spite of all their efforts to get rid of it, breaks in frequently upon their gayest moments, and clouds and damps their joy. We might describe the alarm and amazement with which they are filled, however careless and hardened they may have been in health, when mortal disease seizes upon them, and when death, just at hand, looks them in the face. Well, indeed, may they dread death, for it comes to them armed with its fatal sting. It comes to them with hell following after it, and when they feel themselves in its snaky folds, they may well exclaim, Hast thou found me, O mine enemy!' But we have not to do at present with the ungodly, who are under the curse, and whose guilty consciences forewarn them of the unutterable miseries of the other world, into which death will usher them. We are speaking of the righteous. Some of them are in bondage through the fear of death, because they are not fully persuaded of their interest in Christ. From the weakness of their faith, they are not sure of their acceptance with God, and therefore the thought of death alarms them. They cannot say with confidence, We know in whom we have believed; and, therefore, a summons to depart, and appear before their Judge, in the present state of uncertainty as to their spiritual interests, would fill them with apprehension. Even those Christians whose attainments in religion are high, and who are endeavouring conscientiously to walk with God in all holy obedience, usually have the feeling, that they are not yet in a condition to meet death-that they durst

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not, just now, enter the dark valley; and were they suddenly called to do so, their spirits would fail them. But blessed be God, he has said, As thy day is, so thy strength shall be.' In the expressive language of ancient piety, Dying grace is not given till we are called to dying work.' When the trial comes, the strength necessary to bear it is mercifully imparted. And hence we see that Christians are at length made willing to die, and that they are peaceful, nay, even frequently full of joy in their last moments, although, when death was at a distance, the thought of how they should meet it, and be supported in the struggle with it, may have given them a great deal of uneasiness. Again, many Christians, by the grace of God, have attained to the full assurance of faith. They have no doubt of their acceptance with God; and are persuaded, on solid grounds, that when they depart, they shall be with Christ, which is far better,'they can, therefore, calmly look forward to death without any fear as to where it will land them. It is not to them an object of alarm, as it is to their brethren, whose religious attainments are not so high. Such distinguished Christians usually depart, not only in peace, but in triumph; and have an abundant entrance ministered unto them into the everlasting kingdom of their Lord and Saviour. Still nature abhors death-shrinks from it as an enemy; and is reconciled to it only by the faith of that victory over it, which shall be obtained through Christ. The very song of triumph implies this: 'O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through Jesus Christ our Lord.'

3. Death may be considered as an enemy, because of the pain and anguish with which it is attended. With what agony life is, for the most part, extinguished, you do not need to be told. There are few who have not stood beside the bed of death, and witnessed the progress of disease in the poor sufferer, consuming his strength, preying upon his vitals, and racking him with pain, under which at last, exhausted nature sunk. When you observe the manner in which death does his work; when you look at the long continued decays, or the acute and violent diseases by which he overcomes his victim; when you contemplate the wasted strength, the corrupted frame, the livid aspect, the clouded understanding of the dying manthe struggles, the convulsions, the agonies with which he gives up the ghost; are you not forced to exclaim, O death, thou art an enemy indeed!' Well may death be called an enemy, because of the pain and anguish with which it is usually attended;

and which are frequently so intense and so heart-rending to the beholders, that the most affectionate friends are glad to see the struggle over, and the racked and tortured frame relieved by that sleep which shall not be disturbed, until the heavens

are no more.

4. Death may be considered as an enemy, because it dissolves the connection between the soul and body, and leaves the latter a prey to worms and corruption. Prior to dissolution, the soul and body, in their union, constitute the man. They form one person, and are altogether identified in interests. The connection between them is the closest upon earth. But death, with ruthless hand, tears it asunder, and divides the man in twain. Surely this is the work of an enemy.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made. Among material things, the human frame is the master-piece of Divine workmanship. How admirable are its organs, how comely its proportions, how exquisite its mechanism and structure! How well is it fitted to be the habitation and the instrument of an intelligent spirit! But what a change does death produce upon it? The eyes are closed in darkness-the tongue is mute-the limbs are stiff and motionless-the heart is cold and stillthe face is covered with a ghastly paleness. In short, the late beautiful, active, living being, is now a corpse, as destitute of feeling, and incapable of action, as the ground on which we tread. Putridity and corruption soon begin to exhibit their revolting ravages; so that love itself has only one wish now, namely, 'that its dead may be buried out of its sight.' When we look at that lump of clay, senseless and unsightly, fitted to inspire only pity or horror, and remember what it once was, are we not forced to exclaim, 'An enemy hath done this?' But it may be said, What matters all this? What matters it to the immortal spirit, though the body now deserted is dissolved into ashes? The spirit is with Christ, enjoying the happiness of heaven. The dishonoured condition of the body does not affect it. How, then, can we say that death is an enemy, because of the condition to which it reduces, and in which it detains the body? We are to remember that Christ has redeemed the bodies as well as the souls of his people. We are to remember that their bodies, as well as their souls, are to dwell with Him in heaven. Is not death an enemy, which, as it were, keeps the half of them in dust and darkness, and detains them from their glorious inheritance? The spirits of the just are waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of their bodies. surrection will prove an immense blessing, and bring with it a vast accession of happi

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