SERMON which he owes to his character, to his fa

IV.

mily, or to those, whoever they be, that are to succeed him; but a duty too often unwisely delayed, from a childish aversion to entertain any thoughts of quitting the world. Let him not trust much to what he will do in his old age. Sufficient for that day, if he shall live to see it, will be the burden thereof. It has been remarked, that as men advance in years, they care less to think of death. Perhaps it occurs oftener to the thoughts of the young, than of the old. Feebleness of spirit renders melancholy ideas more oppressive; and after having been so long accustomed and inured to the world, men bear worse with any thing which reminds them that they must soon part with it. However, as to part with it is the doom of all, let us take measures betimes for going off the stage, when it shall be our turn to withdraw, with decency and propriety; leaving nothing unfulfilled which it is expedient to have done before we die. To live long, ought not to be our favourite wish, so much as to live well. By continuing too long on earth, we might only live to wit

ness

IV.

ness a great number of melancholy scenes, SERMON and to expose ourselves to a wider compass of human woe. He who has served his generation faithfully in the world, has duly honoured God, and been beneficent and useful to mankind; he who in his life has been respected and beloved; whose death is accompanied with the sincere regret of all who knew him, and whose memory is honoured; that man has sufficiently fulfilled his course, whether it was appointed by Providence to be long or short. For honourable age is not that which standeth in length of time, nor that which is measured by number of years; but wisdom is the grey hair to man ; and an unspotted life is old age*.

[82]

SERMON V.

ON DEATH.

SERMON

V.

ECCLESIASTES, xii. 5.

Man goeth to his long bome, and the mourners go about the streets.

THIS is a sight which incessantly presents itself. Our eyes are so much accustomed to it, that it hardly makes any impression. Throughout every season of the year, and during the course of almost every day, the funerals which pass along the streets shew us man going to his long bome. Were death a rare and uncommon. object; were it only once in the course of a man's life, that he beheld one of his fellow-creatures carried to the grave, a solemn awe would fill him; he would stop short in the midst of his pleasures; he would even

be

V.

Such impres- SERMON
unsuitable to
When they

be chilled with secret horror.
sions, however, would prove
the nature of our present state.
became so strong as to render men unfit for
the ordinary business of life, they would in
a great measure defeat the intention of our
being placed in this world. It is better
ordered by the wisdom of Providence, that
they should be weakened by the frequency
of their recurrence; and so tempered by
the mixture of other passions, as to allow
us to go on freely in acting our parts on
earth.

Yet, familiar as death is now become, it is undoubtedly fit that by an event of so important a nature, some impression should be made upon our minds. It ought not to pass over, as one of those common incidents which are beheld without concern, and awaken no reflection. There are many things which the funerals of our fellow-creatures are calculated to teach; and happy it were for the gay and dissipated, if they would listen more frequently to the instructions of so awful a monitor. In the context, the wise man had described, under a variety of images, suited to the eastern style, the grow G 2

ing

SERMON ing infirmities of old age, until they arrive V. at that period which concludes, them all

streets.

;

when, as he beautifully expresses it, the
silver cord being loosened, and the golden bowl
broken, the pitcher being broken at the foun-
tain, and the wheel at the cistern, man goeth
to his long home, and the mourners go about the
In discoursing from these words,
it is not my purpose to treat, at present, of
the instructions to be drawn from the
prospect of our own death. I am to
confine myself to the death of others; to
consider death as one of the most frequent
and considerable events that happen in
the course of human affairs; and to shew
in what manner we ought to be affected,
first, by the death of strangers, or indif-
ferent persons; secondly, by the death of
friends;
and thirdly, by the death of

enemies.

I. By the death of indifferent persons, if any can be called indifferent to whom we are so nearly allied as brethren by nature, and brethren in mortality. When we observe the funerals that pass along the streets, or when we walk along the mo

numents