ments; after vows and refolutions to the contrary, and often repeated, if not become habitual. So that we have all great cause to blush, and be ashamed to look up to heaven, and to loath ourselves for the evils we have committed in all our abominations. Our whole life is full of vanity and naughtiness, and if thou, O God, shouldft refolve to (y) enter into judgment with thy fervants, and shouldst be extreme to mark what were done amifs, not the very best of us could hope to be juftified in thy fight. (z) Thou art of purer eyes than to bebold evil, and canst not look upon iniquity: all whofe (a) ways are judgment: a God of truib, and without iniquity, juft and right, art thou. (b) Thou art not a God that bath pleasure in wickedness: neither shall evil dwell with thee. The foolish fhall not ftand in thy fight: thou hatest all the workers of iniquity. And yet, alas! How have we all been forgetful of thee? From the highest to the loweft, there is none righteous before thee, none that has not justly deferved thy wrath, and implacable indignation. The most religiously difpos'd cannot but difcover numerous failings and imperfections, besides other more wilful tranfgreffions of their duty, enough to ftrike them to the heart, at every remembrance of them. Much more may others fear, left a heavy doom befal them, by reason of those more heinous enormities, which every-where discover themselves throughout the whole courfe of their conversations. If they that have been moft obfervant of God's laws, have yet need of his mercy and favour to be extended to them, or otherwife they cannot be happy; how much more do those want it, who have been more extravagantly wicked! And (c) if the righteous, after all their care to please God, fhall hardly be faved, these must expect a more terrible appearance before his great tribunal.

This aftonishes and confounds me, when I come to apply it to my own cafe; and would doubtless drive

) Pfal. cxliii. 2.

(6) Pfal. v. 4, 5.

(c)

(*) Habak. i. 13. (a) Deut. xxxii. 4. Pet. iv. 18..

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me into despair, were it not for the truft I have in my blessed Saviour's mediation. He has obtain'd ; pardon for my fins, and fo I have great hope and comfort thro' him; but, otherwife, I must have been in a miferable, helplefs condition. For though God is infinitely patient and long-fuffering, he will not wait always to be gracious, but will bring the finner to a strict account for all his wickedness; poffibly in this world, but most certainly in that which is to come. Nothing can fave me but his mercy; but, inasmuch as that is infinite, I will not distrust it, but will humble myself before him; will confefs and bewail my fins, and will endeavour, to the utmost of my power, to appease his anger. And, ob that my bead were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for all mine iniquities, whereby I have offended fo good and gracious a God! I hope he will be prevail'd with to extend his kindnefs to me; but if at last I do perish, I must, however, confefs to his glory, that my destruction will be wholly owing to myself.

UIS fcit an adjiciant bodierna tempora vite Craftina dii dii fuperi? (d) Who knows, fays the poet, whether be fhall live even till to-morrow? And our blessed Saviour foretold to the jolly rich man, St. Luke xii. 20. that he certainly should not. Thou fool, fays our Saviour, this night fhall thy foul be required of thee. The fame, for any thing I know to the contrary, may be my portion! This may poffibly be the laft day, if not the last hour, of my life. And what can I promife myself will then become of me? Have I been so wife as to make up my accounts with God, and fo to have got my foul in a readiness to appear before him? If not, how difmal, how doleful, will my con

(4) Horat. Carm. 1. 4. od. 7.

dition be? It is a terrible change, to be fuddenly fnatched away from this life, and all its enjoyments, and delivered over to eternal burnings in the other. Yet to this fad fate are all those every day obnoxious, who live in the practice of any fort of wickedness. How happy foever they may be, as to the things of this world, they may poffibly be immediately hurried away from them, to a perpetual night of horror, grief, and anguifh, never to fee day, nor to tafte any comfort more.

Awake, therefore, O my drowsy foul; awake and beftir thyself before it be too late, whilst the patience of God is exercised towards thee, and a time of grace and falvation is afforded thee. Awake, confider thy present uncertain habitation, and do not dare to depend upon a short tranfitory life, that, like a thread, is immediately cut off; and is but as a ftory, which entertains the auditors whilft in telling, but is quickly at an end. Let death be the fubject of thy serious and frequent, I had almost faid, of thy inceffant meditation. Think, at rifing in the morning, What if this should prove to be the last day of my abode here? And again, when lying down at night, think, What if I fhould never rife more? Perhaps, I find myself in very good health, and as like to prolong my days to a good old age, as most of thofe about me; and am therefore tempted to pafs my time in mirth and ease. But alas! How many of my contemporaries have I known difappointed of their expectations, when as promifing as mine, and laid in the grave before they were aware of it! And what happens to one, may as easily befal another, notwithftanding all the care we can take to fecure ourfelves against it. Every knell I hear, is a warning to me, to be upon my guard, to retire into myfelf, and fee how reckonings ftand betwixt God and my foul, and to use the utmoft diligence for fupplying what I find wanting. Every grave I fee, every funeral I attend upon, every friend I lofe, every hearfe or coffin I

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meet with, every one I obferve in mourning, calls upon me to reflect on what a precipice I ftand, and how many different ways I may be thrown down from it. Oh! Let me not be careless and unconcern'd in fuch a flippery ftation; but let me confider well, how exceedingly terrible fuch a fall muft be, to all that are not prepared for it. Nothing is of more importance to me, than to fee, that, in all refpects, I act like one, on whom the things of this world make no lafting impreffion, and whofe chief care is to please God, and to make provifion for a happy eternity. This is the great bufinefs for which I came into the world; and how can I hope to die with any manner of comfort, till I have performed this weighty and neceffary work?

Yet die I muft undoubtedly, and no one knows how very foon. One defcends to the grave (e) in bis full ftrength, being wholly at eafe and quiet: his breasts are full of milk, and his bones moistened with marrow. And another dieth in the bitterness of bis foul, and never eateth with pleasure. They fhall lie down alike in the duft, and the worms fhall cover them. In this world a great diftinction is made between the great, the rich, and the powerful on the one fide; and those on the other, whofe circumstances are ftreight, and 'who live in a poor neceffitous condition: as fome also are healthy and strong, and enjoy a great deal of eafe and pleasure; whilft others are worn out with ficknefs, and bodily infirmities, or, perhaps, with a feries of croffes, and inevitable vexations. But they are all haftening to their long home, and which of them fhall arrive there first, is beyond our forefight, and known only to Almighty God, by whofe Providence we live, and at whofe appointed time we must all be fure to die. Then fhall all alike, whether high or low, rich or poor, have the duft for their bed, and the worms for their covering, without any other remarkable diftinction, than what hall have arifen from their dif

(e) Job xxi. 23, 24, 25, 26.

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ferent difcharge of their duty, whilft in this mortal Iftate. Some go now, fome anon; fome this way, fome that; fome upon timely notice, and fome again in an instant, and even when least expecting it. What then can fuch have to fay for themselves, who are not always in fome tolerable readinels, to quit this tranfitory life, which, at its best eftate, and when moft promifing, is yet but as (f) a vapour that appears - for a little time, and then vanishes away?

Upon this confideration, the apostle St. James, in the wards immediately foregoing thefe now mentioned, very justly rebukes the folly of fuch as promife themselves a long continuance here, when it is poffible their fouls may be just upon the wing to take their flight into the other world; and who please themselves with the thoughts of life, and time enough to manage their concerns upon earth, when, perhaps, they are on the very fhore of eternity, ready to launch into it. (g) Go to now, fays the Apostle, ye that fay, Today, or to-morrow, we will go into fuch a city, and continue there a year, to buy, and fell, and get gain; whereas you know not, what shall be on the marrow. You know not how near any of you are to your latter end; how fuddenly this frail breath of your's may fail you, and leave your bodies to many ufelefs çarçafes, incapable of any defign, or any fort of business.

Can any one then, can I in particular, prefume to live without a continual expectation of fuch my dif folution; as if I had nothing else to do, but to eat, and drink, and be merry, and to fpend my time in idleness and luxury? Is this to live like a Christian, whofe profeffion obliges him to be continually looking forward to another ftate, and who knows himself to be but a stranger and fojourner upon earth? How can I allow myself to be regardless, either of my duty to Almighty God, or of my own welfare, which has fo neceffary a dependence upon the good improvement of my fhort ftay here? No, I will rather keep (f). James iv. 14. (g) Ver. 13.

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