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The current of life is fast ebbing away; the eye that once sparkled with vivacity is now covered with the film of death; ere long its light shall be extinguished; for a moment it brightens,-joy sparkles in it.Welcome, death and glory; farewell, world of wo; farewell, mother, dear to my heart; I go to my Father, and your Father-to my God, and your God. Living, I served you-dying, I leave you-and in eternity I will meet you. I die, but God will be with you.' His tongue, about to become silent in death, faltered, while giving utterance to his last words; a languid colour reddened his cheek; as he gazed at her it grew dimit fixed-it closed. The last breath is drawn-the last pulsation has beat-the spirit is gone. Those eyes,

which erewhile gazed on his mother in fond affection, are now sunk in their sockets; the nerveless hand so closely locked in hers can no longer retain the affectionate grasp; that heart which sympathized in all her joys and griefs is now indifferent alike to every fluctuation of fear and of hope.

The distressed feelings of the widowed mother, who can describe? With emotions which cannot be uttered in words with emotions which the heart only can record, she looked upon the cold and feelingless remains of her son-her only son, whom she loved.-A few days before, she had seen him young, virtuous, and happy. You who are parents will judge of her felicity then. You who have been rendered childless will judge of her affliction now. She, who yesterday rejoiced in the accomplishments and caresses of her son, now "refuses to be comforted, because he is not." But words were never designed to express the agonies of a fond mother, who finds herself husbandless and childless, in solitude and dreariness of domestic desolation. My imagination pictures it to me-the trembling step and faded form of the bereaved mother, as she goes forth to lay in the grave her last child, and her last hope. The object of her affection has been removed from her sight, but cannot be torn from her heart. His excellence lives there, deeply chronicled in her bosom;

and the thought that she shall never see him more, touches every spring of painful sensibility, and to her soul says unutterable things. "Oh that it were with

me as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me; when his candle shone upon my head, and when by his light I walked through darkness; as I was in the days of my youth, when the secret of the Lord was upon my tabernacle; when the Almighty was yet with me, and when my children were about me; when I washed my steps with butter, and the rock poured me out rivers of oil." "Call me not Naomi; call me Marah, for the Lord hath dealt very bitterly with me."

The whole city had crowded spontaneously to mingle their sighs with the widow's tears. They were conducting the lifeless body to its long home. At this moment the Friend of sinners met the funeral procession. Amid the group of mourners, he knew that there was one bleeding heart, and he longed to bind it up. With the tenderest sympathy, he approached the sufferer; and in the kindest accents, said unto her," Weep not." There was something about his manner which showed that he was a being of a purer world. Having aroused her from the stupor of grief, he touched the bier on which the dead was laid, and said, "Young man, I say unto thee, arise." At the sound of his almighty word, the body which was about to be consigned to the cold grave begins to glow with renewed animation; the blood again flows through the swelling veins; the bosom heaves; the heart beats; the pale cheek warms with returning life; and the eye, once clothed in death, opens, and instinctively fixes on his mother.

To her bosom the Saviour restored him; and how precious the unexpected present was can only be conceived by that mother who has seen all the blossoms of life fading and falling; and who, after shedding tears of anguish over her only son, receives him "against hope," raised up from the very verge of the tomb.

Nature, lately labouring under a load of sorrow, is now ready to sink under an excess of joy, She did

wisely in not attempting to express her gratitude. At such a moment, her heart must have been too full for utterance. There are certain situations which defy description-there are certain emotions, silence only can explain and on the present occasion, how eloquent is silence!

"For we

Our Lord Jesus Christ is immutable. He retains the same compassionate feelings, now that he sits enthroned in glory, as when on earth he healed by a miracle the broken spirit of this forlorn widow. "He knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are dust." have not an high-priest who cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted as we are; yet without sin: that he might know to succour them that are tempted."

In the second place, I would address these consoling words to those who are mourning the dissolution of Christian friends.

In most cases, the ties of life are not dissolved without dying struggles on the one hand, and living agonies on the other. The tears of separation would soon dry up, could we indulge the pleasing hope that the friend of our bosom would soon be restored to our embrace. But this hope we dare not indulge: as the cloud is consumed, and vanishes away, so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more. He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.

The flowers, which wither at the approach of winter, put forth their leaves and blossoms in the spring. By the side of the blasted withered trunk we behold a new plant spring up from its roots, and flourishing under its protection; but the ashes of the dead revive not with the dews, and showers, and influences of spring. There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground, yet through the scent of water it will bud and bring forth boughs like a plant. But "man dieth, and wasteth away; yea, man giveth

up the ghost, and where is he? As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up, so man lieth down and riseth not; till the heavens be no more they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep."

No wonder, then, that the heart should bleed at every pore, when we think on the spot where their dust reposes. It is a spot which affection consecrates, it is a dwelling to which the heart goes down. In such a case, when all that was loved was lost, and all that was anticipated with so much dread is felt, the mind broods over all their excellence, and the thought that we shall never see them more wrings the soul with indescribable anguish.

You know it—you who have closed the lifeless eyes of a husband, of a wife, or a child, and, in frantic agony, have clasped the lifeless form in a last embrace -you who have seen the tongue faltering in its last blessing and prayer, the eye fixed, and that sleep commencing which shall be broken only by the voice of the archangel and the trump of God.

We may speculate, and argue, and convince ourselves and others that regret is unavailing; but still nature pleads; feeling carries it over every other argument, and claims this period as her own.

My brethren, the religion of Jesus wars not with the pardonable infirmities of men. Joseph mourned with a great and very sore lamentation over the remains of his aged sh. Devout men carried out Stephen to be buried, and shed many tears over his bier. He, who was perfection itself, ennobled and vindicated those of Martha and Mary, by mingling his with theirs, over a brother's sepulchre, newly sealed. At the grave of Lazarus, Jesus wept.

It is not grief, but immoderate grief that is forbidden. It is the sorrow of unbelief, distrust, and discontent. It is proper that we should mourn; but it is criminal to repine. What Almighty God has planted he has an unquestionable right to destroy. Adore him that the boon was so long continued. Say in resignation, with

Job, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

Immoderate sorrow injures the living, and cannot avail the dead. "While the child was living," says David, "I fasted and wept; for I said, Who can tell whether the Lord may be gracious unto me, that the child should live? But now that he is dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me."

Believer, has the one nearest and dearest to your heart been consigned to corruption and dust? "Weep

not."

If she is dead in the Lord, your loss is her unspeakable gain. While you were bedewing the claycold form with tears, or accompanying it in silent anguish to the mansions of the dead, the disembodied spirit has winged its way to the celestial world, and is now happy and blessed in the presence of its God. What a consoling and interesting thought is this! It has exchanged a ruinous tabernacle for a house not made with hands; the chamber of sickness for the region of unfading health; the cross for the crown of glory; the groanings of corruption for the song of the redeemed before the throne: and this earth, with all its disasters and woes, for the beatitudes of heaven, and the rapturous enjoyment of the presence of God.

And could you find it in your heart to wish them back? Could you be so selfish, and so cruel? Could you wish them back-back from the presence of the Lamb-back from the sweets of glory to the bitterness of time-back from those rivers of pure pleasure which flow full and large at God's right-hand, to the streams of mingled enjoyment in this vale of sorrow? After they have reached the haven of rest, would you recall them to struggle again with the storm? Is there any thing in the state or employments of those who surround the throne, which you are called upon to contemplate with sadness, or to deplore in the language of despair? Is it any subject of regret to them that their sun went down while it was yet day?

They have exchanged their polluted garments for the