of affliction. It is the very consideration of our inability, to scan immediately the counsels of the Most High, which should preserve us from suffering our trust in him to be shaken by the tribulations of life. We should gather around us as many virtues. as we can, and amidst the gloom that surrounds us, and the raging of the storm, repose ourselves upon his wisdom, righteousness, mercy and truth.

Thus we have illustrated the several parts of Elihu's expostulation with the afflicted Job. May the important and consolatory truths it has led us to contemplate, have their merited influence upon our thoughts and conduct, under every calamity of life. Many of you, beloved, have recently felt the afflicting hand of God. You have been bereaved of your friends and acquaintances, by solemn dispensations of his providence, and are come up to his house, mourning. Listen to the instructions of his word. Learn from the oracles of truth, that however distressing are the events of life, righteousness and goodness. guide the hand by which they are allotted. While, therefore, you mourn the partner, the parent, the child, gone down to the chambers of the dead, consider the wisdom, the justice, and the mercy of the Deity, as so many comforters calling tenderly upon you to be still in your sorrows, and sanctify him in your hearts. And let us all, my friends, learn from what has been said, to preserve in every situation, an unshaken reliance on the love of the Almighty, and a steadfast obedience to his will. Art thou distressed with a sense of thy sinfulness? Abide thee by the mercy-seat. Say not in thy heart, "thou shalt not see him," but recollect the soothing declaration, "He knoweth whereof we are made, he remembereth that we are but dust." Art thou alarmed by the occurrences of life? Remember, that though touching the Almighty we cannot find him out, he is, nevertheless, excellent in power, and in judgment, and in plenty of justice; he will not suffer his truth to fail. Art thou bowed down with affliction's burden, with unjust aspersions of thy fame, the loss of thy property, or the death of thy friends? In thy distress, be not dismayed. The bitter plant is sometimes

the medicine of life. The blackest cloud, by which fair nature is shrouded in gloom, carries often the shower which fertilizes and refreshes her. Reflect how partial and finite are thy views. Assure thyself, from reason and Scripture, of the benevolence and rectitude of God's government. Ponder the amazing pledge of his love, which he has given thee in Jesus, the Mediator. This, faithfully done, cannot fail to calm thy soul in her most sorrowful hours; and to inspire thee with the resolution, at once the fruit, the support, and the glory of Job's piety; yea, “though he slay me, yet will I trust in him."

SERMON XXXVI.

"MA

ON THE MISERIES OF LIFE.

ST. JOHN, xix. 41.

"There was a garden, and in the garden, a new sepulchre."

AN is born to trouble." The scenes of life are perpetually varying; and in every scene affliction has a conspicuous place. The busy children of men enter upon the stage of action, flushed with the expectation of happiness. Their pulse beats high. Hope animates their bosoms with the prospects which fancy sketches. They look around; the world is as "a garden” before them, lively and pleasant, and they fondly expect to take their pastime in it, moving from pleasure to pleasure, and regaling themselves with unfading delights. Deluded mortals! The pleasure-ground of Joseph is a picture of life. "In the garden there was a sepulchre."

It is probable that the taste of the Arimathean may be questioned in this refined age. What avails it, it may be asked, to bring often to recollection the miseries of our condition? Are not the joys of life sufficiently imperfect without blending with them the symbols of sorrow, the monuments of mortality? Ah, my friends, it were happy for us, if our estimate of this present state might be rectified by its miseries. We need a finger to point out constantly to us the "vanity" of things "under the sun." We need a voice to proclaim daily in our ears, remember that thou art mortal. Obvious it is that there are evils

in the world. Our earthly joys are all alloyed. Our temporal pleasures have all an end. The countenance of mirth which to-day beams full with the expression of gladness is to-morrow covered with gloom. The treasure of health, in which we exult with such thoughtless joyfulness, makes to itself wings, like the riches of the wealthy, and suddenly flies away. Reason, the choicest natural possession of man, is not always secure. The disorders of the body, the wanderings of the fancy, or the winding up of the fine chords of feelings to a pitch which they are not able to bear, may confuse the rational powers and convert into frenzy the happiest mind. Death, too, is ever in our world. Our friends and fellow beings he takes from us, one after another; and whenever he shall lay his hand upon us, we must be bound with his icy fetters, and relinquish all the charms of life for his gloomy domain. Thus, however blissful our situation, and with whatever delights we are surrounded, “in the garden there is a sepulchre." "Man cometh up like a flower, and is cut down; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay."

It is natural enough for the considerate to inquire how the miseries of life found entrance into the creation of God, and I see not how they can explain this mournful part of the divine economy, but by considering it as the result of transgression. It is surely punishment, whenever the children of a benevolent parent are afflicted, and under the just and compassionate government of the universal parent, punishment can never be known but as the consequence of sin. Yes, man must have brought upon himself the sorrows of his condition by disobedi We carry in ourselves, and behold in the sufferings and mortality of our fellow beings, irrefragable evidence of the unhappy fall and degeneracy of our race. In an evil hour man built for himself "a sepulchre in the garden," in which his Maker had placed him, and the awful inheritance has descended to his latest posterity.

ence.

It is wise, however, to consider our situation as it is. A state of delusion, with regard to the real circumstances of our con

dition, would be a great misfortune. Whoever acts, without a correct view of his powers and position, must always forego the character of discretion, and lose the advantages which wisdom derives from adapting her means to the end, and aiming at those ends only, which are practicable and of real importance.

I invite you, then, to the "sepulchre," which is ever "in the garden” of life, that you may, in the first place, perceive and remember that it is there. Heedless are most men of death! The young, the gay, and the busy, with what light and careless feet do they move among the pleasures of the earth, regardless of the grave which is under them, and the dangers with which they are surrounded. How many stumble upon the "sepulchre," before they have discovered it in the path. Our eyes are willingly turned from it; for we have not learnt to look upon it without pain. We plant a thousand objects which hide it from our sight. We twine the flowers of hope, and we bend the vines of pleasure, to conceal it from our view. It is "in the garden," but men perceive it not. Too often, alas! they sink into it, before they have considered themselves as mortal: unacquainted with the nature of the present life, and unprepared for the issues of that which is to come. But who, in the intervals of reflection will say that this is wisdom? "It is appointed unto" you "once to die." Death will conduct you to consummate happiness, or unspeakable woe. At any period of your lives, “in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye," this awful and important change may take place. Let not, then, the gayeties and charms of the world beguile you of such weighty concerns. Have the "sepulchre" ever in view; not to interrupt the duties, nor to damp the innocent pleasures of life; but to prompt you to circumspection and fidelity, that the great event of your beings, on which such everlasting interests depend, may not come unhappily upon you, and leave you in the untried regions of the eternal world, conscious of heedlessness, destitute of the blessing, and unable, alas, to find a "place for repentance, though you should seek it carefully and with tears!"