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is, in this view, an ascent of the mind above terrestrial things. At the Lord's table we associate ourselves, in some degree, with spirits of a more exalted order. We declare, that we are tending towards their society; and have fixed our final rest within the veil. This view of the institution, so comfortable to the last period of life, is plainly given us in the words of the text. For it is worthy of particular observation, that as soon as our Lord had instituted this sacrament, he straightway leads the thoughts of his disciples to a state of future existence. Employing that metaphorical style, which the occasion naturally suggested, he tells them, that though he was not henceforth to drink of the fruit of the vine on earth, yet a day was coming, when he was again to drink it with them; to drink it in his Father's kingdom. Two distinct ideas are, in these words, presented unto us. One is, the abode into which our Saviour was to remove; his Father's kingdom. The other, the society which he was there to enjoy; with you in Father's kingdom. These correspond to the two views under which death is most formidable to men; both of which he intended to banish, by the institution of this sacrament; first, that death is a transition to a new and unknown world; and next, that it is a final separation from all the friends whom we have loved on earth.

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First; if death terminates our existence here, the abode to which it translates the faithful followers of Christ, is the kingdom of his Father. The institution of this sacrament dispels all the gloomy ideas of annihilation, of non-existence, of total darkness, which our imagination is ready to associate with the grave. We are here assured, that to good men death is not the close of being, but a change of state; a removal, from a distant and obscure province of the universe, into the city of God, the chief seat of

their Father's kingdom. They have every reason to believe, that the objects which are to meet them there, how new and unknown soever, shall all be propitious and friendly. For into the kingdom of his Father, their Lord has declared that he is entered as their forerunner. I go to my Father, and your Father; to my God, and your God. In my Father's house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you. I will come again and receive you to myself, that where I am, there ye may be also. What reasonings, what speculations, can have power to impart so much peace to the dying man, as a promise so direct and explicit, coming from him, who is truth itself, and cannot lie. If it were not so, I would have told you. (John xiv. 2.) The prospect becomes still more cheering and relieving, when we include

The other circumstances mentioned in the text; the society to be enjoyed in that future state of being. With you I shall drink of the fruit of the vine in my Father's kingdom. In how amiable a light does our Saviour here appear, looking forward to a future reunion with those beloved friends, whom he was now leaving, as to a circumstance which should increase both his own felicity and theirs, when they met again in a happier world! Thus, in a most affectionate manner, cheering their drooping and dejected spirits; and by a similar prospect providing for the comfort of his followers in future generations, when they should be about to leave the world.

The expressions in the text plainly suggests a joyful intercourse among friends who had been separated by death, and therefore seem to give much confirmation to what has always been a favourite hope of good men ; that friends shall know and recognise each other, and renew their former connexions, in a future state of existence. How many pleasing prospects does such an intimation open to the

mind! How much does it tend to compensate the vanity of life, and to mitigate the sorrows of death! For

it is not to be denied, that one of the most bitter circumstances attending death, is, the final separation from beloved friends. This is apt equally to wring the hearts of the dying, and the surviving; and it is an anguish of that sort, which descends most deeply into the virtuous and worthy breast. When, surrounded with an affectionate family, and weeping friends, a good man is taking his last adieu of all whom he held most dear on earth; when, with a feeble voice, he is giving them his blessing, before he leaves. them for ever; when, for the last time, he beholds the countenance, he touches the hand, he hears the voice, of the person nearest his heart; who could bear this bitterness of grief, if no support were to be ministered by religious hope? if there were no voice to whisper to our spirits, that hereafter we, and those whom we love, shall meet again in a more blissful land? What higher view can possibly be given of the benefit redounding from this divine institution, than its affording us consolation in such situations of extreme distress by realizing to our souls the belief of an immortal state, in which all the virtuous and worthy shall be reunited in the presence of their coming Lord?

as if we were never to drink, in this manner, of the fruit of the vine, until that day when we drink it with those whom we have loved in our Father's kingdom.-God only knows to whom this may be truly spoken! God knows who, of this assembly, shall never have opportunity to approach again to the sacred table, and to meet with their brethren, on such an occasion, in the courts of the Lord's house !— Whatever our doom is to be, whether we are appointed for life or for death, such is the frame of mind which now becomes, and will most improve us in partaking of the holy sacrament.

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Let me caution you, before I conclude, against judging of the propriety of your disposition, in this solemn act of worship, solely by the warmth of your affections and the fervour of your devotion. This state of heart, how desirable soever it may be, cannot be at all times possessed. It depends, in some measure, on natural sensibility. All are not equally endowed with warm and tender feelings. Even they who are susceptible of the highest degrees of pious and virtuous sensibility, cannot, on every occasion, command that happy temperature of mind. We are not, therefore, to judge unfavourably of ourselves, if this be not always the privilege of our devotions. It is chiefly a sedate and composed frame of spirit, that we must study to cultivate; arising from grave and sober thoughts; from serious and penitent recollection of past errors; from good purposes for the future; and from a deep sense of the approaching events of death and immor

Thus I have set before you many considerations, arising from the sacrament of our Lord's Supper, which render it a proper preparation not only for a good life, but for a comfortable and happy death. The great improvement to be made of the sub-tality. Penetrated with such dispoject is, to bring to the altar of God such dispositions of heart, as may give us ground to hope for this blessed effect. Let us approach to the sacrament with the same seriousness of frame, as if it were the last time we were ever to partake of it; as if we were now making provision for a journey to that land whence none return;

sitions, you have ground to come to the altar of God with humble trust and joy; under the belief, that you are approaching, through the great Redeemer, to that merciful Creator, to whom in the high and holy place of eternity the devout aspirations of his servants on earth are ever acceptable and pleasing.

SERMON XLVI.

ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF THE WORLD.

They that use this world, as not abusing it.—1 Cor. vii. 31.

sincere soever the intentions of such persons may be, they certainly take not the properest method, either for improving themselves, or for advancing religion among others. For, this is not using the world, but relinquishing it. Instead of making the light of a good example shine with useful splendour throughout the circle of society, they confine it within a narrow compass. According to the metaphor employed by our Saviour, after the candle is lighted they put it under a bushel. Instead of recommending religion to the world, they exhibit it under the forbidding aspect of unnecessary austerity. Instead of em

temper and pleasures of the world, by a moderate participation of those that are innocent, they deliver up all the entertainments of society into the hands of the loose and giddy.

THE world is always represented in, Scripture as the great scene of trial to a Christian. It sets before him a variety of duties, which are incumbent on him to perform; and, at the same time, surrounds him with many dangers, against which he has to guard. The part which is proper for him to act, may be comprised in these two expressive words of the text; using the world, and not abusing it; the significancy and extent of which, I propose now to explain. The subject is of the highest importance, as in the world we must live: and according as we use, or abuse it, it will prove either our friend or our greatest foe. It is natural to begin with observ-ploying their influence to regulate the ing, that the Christian is here supposed to use the world; by which we must certainly understand the apostle to mean, maintaining intercourse and connexion with the world; living in it, as one of the members of human society; assuming that rank which belongs to his station. No one can be said to use the world, who lives not thus. Hence it follows, that sequestration from the world is no part of Christian duty; and it appears strange, that even among those who approve not of monastic confinement, seclusion from the pleasures of society should have been sometimes considered as belonging to the character of a religious man. They have been supposed to be the best servants of God, who, consecrating their time to the exercises of devotion, mingle least in the ordinary commerce of the world; and especially who abstain most rigidly from all that has the appearance of amusement. But how pious and

The various dangers which the world presents to one who is desirous of maintaining his piety and integrity, have given rise to the scrupulous caution concerning the use of the world; and, so far, the principle is commendable. But we must remember, that the virtue of a Christian is to be shewn, in surmounting dangers which he is called to encounter. Into the post of danger we were ordered by Providence when we were brought into this world. We were placed as soldiers, on the field of battle. It is there that our fidelity to our great Commander must appear. The most signal virtues which adorn and improve the human character, are displayed in active life. There the strength of the mind is brought forth and put to the test.

There, all the amiable dispositions of the heart find their proper exercise: humanity is cultivated; patience, fortitude, and self-denial, come forward in all their forms; and the light of good men's works so shine before others as to lead them to glorify their Father which is in heaven.

It may be assumed, therefore, as a principle justified by the text, and by the whole strain of Scripture, that to use, and in a certain degree to enjoy, the world, is altogether consistent with religion. According to the rank which men possess in society, according to their age, their employment, and connexions, their intercourse with the world will be more or less extended. In private life, they use the world with propriety, who are active and industrious in their callings; just and upright in their dealings; sober, contented, and cheerful, in their stations. When the circumstances of men allow them a wider command of the enjoyments of the world, of those enjoyments they may freely partake, within the bounds of temperance, moderation and decency. The highest situations of rank and opulence ought to be distinguished by dignity of character; by extensive beneficence, usefulness, and public spirit; by magnificence, without ostentation, and generous hospitality, without profusion.

We shall have a clearer view of the proper use of the world, when we contrast it with that abuse of the world which we too often observe. Those abuses manifest themselves in various forms; but in general may be classed under three great heads.

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think themselves entitled to pass their days in a careless manner, without any other object in view, than the gratification of their senses and passions. It shall be granted, that they are not obliged to that exact economy and attention in their manner of living, which the state of fortune may require of others. Gaiety shall be permitted to them; change of scene, and variety of amusements. But let them not forget that, as men and members of society, not to say professors of the Christian faith, they are bound to stop short in their career of pleasure, as soon as it becomes disgraceful to themselves and hurtful to the world. By the train of life which they lead, they defeat every purpose for which Providence bestowed on them the blessings of prosperity. They sink every talent which they possess into useless insignificancy. They corrupt the public manners by their example, and diffuse among others the spirit of extravagance and folly. They behave in a manner altogether unsuitable to the condition of the world in which we live; where we are exposed to so much change, surrounded by so much distress, and daily behold so many affecting scenes, as ought to awaken serious reflection, and chasten dissolute mirth.

With indignant eyes, the sober and thinking part of mankind view the luxury and riot of those abusers of the world. To them are owing the discontents of the poor, their disaffection to their superiors, their proneness to disturb the peace of the world. When the poor behold wealth properly used, they look up with respect to them who possess it. They rest contented in their station, and bless the just and the generous, from whose munificence they receive employment and reward.

But when they behold those men of pleasure dissipating, in vice and folly, the fortune which their forefathers had honourably earned;

when they behold them oppressing all their dependants merely that they may revel in luxurious extravagance; then their hearts swell within them; with murmurs of sullen grief, they eye their own mean habitation and needy family; and become prepared for robbery, tumult, sedition, and every evil work.

The conduct of such abusers of the world is not only pernicious to the welfare of society, and to the interests of virtue; it is equally ruinous to themselves. I shall not insist on the loss of reputation, the waste of fortune, the broken health, and debilitated frame, which are the wellknown consequences of a life of intemperate pleasure. I shall not recount all the better and more substantial enjoyments which they forfeit. Amidst the turbulence of riot, and the fumes of intoxication, unknown to them are the rational entertainments of regular life; the enjoyment of the face of nature; the pleasures of knowledge, and an improved mind; the pleasures of private friendship, and domestic society; the conscious satisfaction which accompanies honourable labours, and the justly acquired esteem of those who surround them. All these they have thrown away; and in their room have substituted, what they think more high and vivid pleasures. But of what nature are those pleasures? Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heaviness. (Prov. xiv. 13.)

At the bottom of the hearts of all men, there lies a secret sense of propriety, virtue, and honour. This sense may be so far blunted, as to lose its influence in guiding men to what is right, while yet it retains its power of making them feel that they are acting wrong. Hence remorse often gnaws the heart, which affects to appear light and gay before the world. Among the crowd of amusements,

the voluptuary may endeavour to stifle his uneasiness; but through all his defences it will penetrate. A conscious sense of his own insignificance, when he sees others distinguished for acting a manly and worthy part; reflection on the time he has wasted, and the contempt he has incurred; the galling remembrance of his earlier and better days, when he gave the fair promise of accomplishments, which now are blasted; have frequently been found to sadden the festive hour. The noise of merriment may be heard; but heaviness lies at the heart. While the tabret and the viol play, a melancholy voice sounds in his ears. The wasted estate, the neglected halls and ruined mansions of his father, rise to view. The angry countenances of his friends seem to stare him in the face. A hand appears to come forth on the wall, and to write his doom.

Retreat then, from your dishonourable courses, ye who by licentiousness, extravagance, and vice, are abusers of the world! You are

degrading, you are ruining, yourselves. You are grossly misemploying the gifts of God; and the giver will not fail to punish. Awake to the pursuits of men of virtue and ho

nour.

Break loose from that magic circle, within which you are at present held. Reject the poisoned cup which the enchantress Pleasure holds up to your lips. Draw aside the veil which she throws over your eyes. You will then see other objects than you now behold. You will see a dark abyss opening below your feet. You will see virtue and temperance marking out the road which conducts to true felicity. You will be enabled to discern, that the world is enjoyed to advantage by none but such as follow those divine guides; and who consider pleasure as the seasoning, but not as the business, of life.

II. The world is abused, not only

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