SERMON XII.

1 TIMOTHY VI. 7.

"We brought nothing into this world; and it is certain we can carry nothing out."

They do

THESE words are words of soberness. not need a peculiar delicacy of perception to be understood, nor very great logical powers to be established. It would be difficult, if it were desirable, to render them palatable to a fastidious, imaginative cast of mind. They address those powers of the mind, which form the substantial patrimony of mankind, our common sense and our conscience; and they appeal to the universal, undeviating experience of our race. We bring nothing into this world, and we carry nothing out. This is a plain statement of facts; a bare, naked sketch of the natural history of man. It forms, indeed, a striking contrast with the opinion of the world, which is so apt to value a man for what he has, rather than for what he is. When we look upon our text, upon this simple statement of man's original and final nakedness, we feel, notwithstanding all the pride and consequence of wealth, and the strength of the title by which it is held, that there is nothing in this world, that man may call truly, originally, and

permanently his own, his property; that, in fact, he comes into this world a beggar, and inhabits it as a tenant at will, and leaves it as an insolvent debtor.

The perishable, transient nature of our possessions and enjoyments, which is brought home to us by our text, should certainly not induce us to underrate their real importance. The desire to better his present condition, and to hold fast whatever is satisfactory in his lot, is a constituent element of the nature of man ; it is, in truth, the beginning, the first manifestation of that aspiring after endless perfection, which is his high, natural prerogative among created beings. It is only when this desire to preserve or better his earthly condition tempts him to forget the higher purpose for which this desire itself was implanted in him, it is only then, that the solemn teachings of religion concerning the comparative worthlessness of all things that are seen and, temporal, should be pressed upon his wandering heart. There is an intimate connexion between religion and civilization, between the arts and sciences which minister to our present comfort, and that deepest of all sciences, which reveals our eternal destiny, and that divine art, by which we can make the most adverse circumstances and vicissitudes subject and subservient to the great end of our being.

It is not every one who cares and labors for the things of this world, which, though we cannot carry them out of it, are yet necessary or convenient while we are in it, and therefore deserve a degree of attention and effort, adjusted to their real, though transient utility; it is he only, who devotes himself to those

shortlived interests and pleasures with an anxiety of mind, an eagerness of pursuit, and tenacity of grasp, as if the one thing he covets were his all and his portion for ever, it is the deluded worshipper of wealth, of popularity, of distinction, of power, who finds in our text a suitable, severe, and salutary rebuke. It applies to the farmer, whose thoughts are as wholly engrossed in enriching his land, as if he were sowing the bread of life, not only for the mortal, but the immortal part of his nature, while he allows the deep soil, which God has prepared in his own heart, to be overrun with weeds. It applies to the merchant, who neglects the cultivation of his mind and the duty of providing for the moral and intellectual, as well as the physical and economical interests of his family, in order to give himself up wholly to boundless speculations; as if the accumulation of wealth, for which he lives, and risks his health and life, were necessary, not only for the present term of existence, but for the life to come.

The savage chieftain, who orders his riches to be interred with him, and his horses and slaves to be killed upon his grave, that they may serve him in the life to come, - he has a sufficient reason for accumulating property beyond what is necessary tosatisfy all his wants. But the man, who has grown up under the light of Christianity, and whose conduct is nevertheless actuated and swayed by an insatiable hunger after riches, which cannot benefit himself, and will surely injure his children, he has not even a chieftain, to account

rude faith, like that of the savage

for his wild chase after transient and faithless treasures. The same is to be said of the demagogue, who sets his heart upon, and spends his life for, the attainment of public favor, as if the long cherished accents of popular applause would reach his delighted ear, even in the regions of eternal silence.

It is true; naked, poor, powerless, man enters this world; and powerless, poor, and naked, he leaves it. But this truth, so mortifying to the pride of man, does it indeed extend to all he has and is? Well would it be, or at least it would appear well to the sinner, if, in the same grave that is to receive his deceased body, he could bury also his morbid spirit, his crippled mind, his wounded conscience. Well would it be for him who has taken by fraud or force that which was not his own, who has withheld the fair earnings, and invaded the sacred rights, of his fellow-men, if, when the lips that spoke the lie, and the hand that did the deed, perish, the liar, the robber, the murderer could blot out from his spirit the fatal record; if he could enter the life to come, as he entered that which now is, naked, with nothing to remember, not knowing either good or evil. But it is not so; the book of revelation says, it is not so; the immortal, uncorruptible witness within him repeats the declaration, that it is not so. Even while he is in the full enjoyment of the fruits of his crime, now and then there is a still, small voice, a voice as of one coming from the dead to bear witness of things that are to be, speaking louder and louder, until all the living voices, that invite to mirth and laughter, are

hushed in awe and trembling anticipation. It is true, then, that there are things, which, although we did not bring them into this world, it is certain we shall carry out of it, and bear with us to the judgmentseat of God.

And this solemn truth, which makes the sinner tremble, is the comfort, perhaps the only comfort, of the righteous in this world. Of all our possessions and attainments there are none that we can truly call our own, our individual, exclusive property, except our virtues and our sins. In the midst of trouble and persecution the anticipation of a life to come appears to the righteous man as an angel from heaven, strengthening him. In his own experience he finds the truth, and in his heart he feels the power, of those inspired and inspiring words, "In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." That power, by which he, who possesses no other, is able to overcome the world, is not a capacity which he brought into this life, nor a favor conferred on him by circumstances, or by a special providential interposition; but a strength acquired by the faithful exercise of all his faculties, by self-control and self-sacrifice, by study and toil, by watching and praying. While he, who neglects the capacities with which nature has sent him into this world, leaves it in moral nakedness, or self-accusing deformity, the soul, that has been true to her nature and her mission, goes out clothed in her own strength, in the majesty of conscious worth, in the beauty of holiness.

Our text, then, which asserts the original and final