mistake; who comes with a power, which none can resist. Since we last assembled in this place as the humble and united worshipers of God, this stern messenger, this mysterious agent of Omnipotence, has come among our numbers, and laid his withering hand on one, whom we have been taught to honour and respect, whose fame was a nation's boast, whose genius was a brilliant spark from the etherial fire, whose attainments were equalled only by the grasp of his intellect, the profoundness of his judgment, the exuberance of his fancy, the magic of his eloquence.

It is not my present purpose to ask your attention to any picture drawn in the studied phrase of eulogy. I am not to describe the commanding powers and the eminent qualities, which conducted the deceased to the superiority he held, and which were at once the admiration and the pride of his countrymen. I shall not attempt to analyze his capacious mind, nor to set forth the richness and variety of its treasures. The trophies of his genius are a sufficient testimony of these, and constitute a monument to his memory, which willstand firm and conspicuous amidst the faded recollections of future ages. The present is not the time to recount the sources or the memorials of his greatness. He is gone. The noblest of Heaven's gifts could not shield even him from the arrows of the destroyer. And this behest of the Most High is a warning summons to us all. When Death comes into our door, we ought to feel that he is near. When his irreversible sentence falls on the great and the renowned, when he severs the strongest bonds, which can bind mortals to earth, we ought to feel that our hold on life is slight, that the thread of existence is slender, that we walk amidst perils, where the next wave in the agitated sea of life may baffle all our struggles, and carry us back into the dark bosom of the deep.

When we look at the monuments of human greatness, and the powers of human intellect, all that genius has invented, or skill executed, or wisdom matured; or industry achieved, or labor accomplished; when we trace these through the successive gradations of human advancement, what are they? On these are founded the pride, glory, dignity of man. And what are they? Compared with the most insignificant work of God, they are nothing, less than nothing. The mightiest works of man are daily and hourly becoming extinct. The boasted theories of religion, morals, government, which took the wisdom, the ingenuity of ages to invent, have been

proved to be shadowy theories only. Genius has wasted itself in vain; the visions it has raised have vanished at the touch of truth. Nothing is left but the melancholy certainty, that all things human are imperfect, and must fail and decay. And man himself, whose works are so fragile, where is he? The history of his works is the history of himself. He existed; he is gone.

The nature of human life cannot be more forcibly described than in the beautiful language of eastern poetry, which immediately precedes the text: 'Man, that is born of woman, is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down; he fleeth as a shadow, and continueth not. 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 wasteth away; yes, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?' Such are the striking emblems of human life; such is the end of all that is mortal in man. And what a question is here for us to reflect upon! 'Man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?

Yes, when we see the flower of life fade on the stalk, and all its comeliness depart, and all its freshness wither; when we see the bright eye grow dim, and the rose on the cheek lose its hue; when we hear the voice faltering its last accents, and see the energies of nature paralyzed; when we perceive the beams of intelligence grow fainter and fainter on the countenance, and the last gleam of life extinguished; when we deposite all that is mortal of a fellow-being in the dark, cold chamber of the grave, and drop a pitying tear at a spectacle so humiliating, so mournful; then let us put the solemn question to our souls, where is he? His body is concealed in the earth; but where is the spirit? Where is the intellect that could look through the works of God, and catch inspiration from the Divinity which animates and pervades the whole? Where are the powers that could command, the attractions that could charm? Where the boast of humanity, wisdom, learning, wit, eloquence, the pride of skill, the mys tery of art, the creations of fancy, the brilliancy of thought? where the virtues that could win, and the gentleness that could soothe? where the mildness of temper, the generous affections, the benevolent feelings, all that is great and good,

all that is noble, and lovely, and pure, in the human character, where are they? They are gone. We can see nothing: the eye of faith only can dimly penetrate the region to which they have fled. Lift the eye of faith; follow the light of the Gospel; and let your delighted vision be lost in the glories of the immortal world. Behold, there, the spirits of the righteous dead rising up into newness of life, gathering brightness and strength, unencumbered by the weight of mortal clay and mortal sorrows, enjoying a happy existence, and performing the holy service of their Maker.

Let our reflections on death have a weighty and immediate influence on our minds and characters. We cannot be too soon nor too entirely prepared to render the account, which we must all render to our Maker and Judge. All things earthly must fail us; the riches, power, possessions and gifts of the world will vanish from our sight; friends and relatives will be left behind; our present support will be taken away; our strength will become weakness; and the earth itself, and all its pomps, and honors, and attractions will disappear. Why have we been spared even till this time? We know not why, nor yet can we say that a moment is our own. The summons for our departure may now be recorded in the book of Heaven. The angel may now be on his way to execute his solemn commission. Death may already have marked us for his victims. But, whether sooner or later, the event will be equally awful, and demand the same preparation.

One, only, will then be our rock and our safety. The kind Parent, who has upheld us all our days, will remain our unfailing support. With him is no change; he is unmoved from age to age; his mercy, as well as his being, endures forever; and, if we rely on him, and live in obedience to his laws, all tears shall be wiped from our eyes and all sorrow banished from our hearts. If we are rebels to his cause, slaves to vice, and followers of evil, we must expect the displeasure of a holy God, the just punishment of our folly and wickedness; for a righteous retribution will be awarded to the evil as well as to the good.

Let it be the highest, the holiest, the unceasing concern of each one of us, to live the life, that we may be prepared to die the death, of the righteous; that when they who come after us shall ask, Where is he? unnumbered voices shall be raised to testify, that, although his mortal remains are mouldering in the cold earth, his memory is embalmed in the 848266A

cherished recollections of many a friend who knew and loved him; and all shall say, with tokens of joy and confident belief, If God is just, and piety be rewarded, his pure spirit is now at rest in the regions of the blessed.

MANLINESS OF CHARACTER.

THERE seems to be a mutual misunderstanding between men of the world and christians. Christians speak of the manly character as if it were something assuming, jealous, and revengeful; they talk as if manly spirit consists in asserting one's rights, honor, and independence on all occasions, and in making blood atone for every imaginary insult and wrong. This is not, however, a description of a man. The man is collected within himself; he is not easily persuaded that others can injure his feelings or his fame; he is sure that they cannot reach his soul. The man does not put it in the power of others to insult and wound him; he feels like despising insults, where others are furious to revenge them. The manly character, as enlightened men of the world understand it, is calm and forbearing, as well as strong and commanding. It is, where it is found genuine, the very character christianity desires to enlist in its service; because, furnished with christian principles and aims, it will move deliberately and surely onward in that improvement which bears the corruptible up to incorruption and the mortal to immortality. Why then do so many preachers misrepresent this character? why speak of it as if it were made up still of the vices of heathenism, and the follies of chivalry, and never had been changed in the least by the influence of our religion. Can they not see that by so doing they embalm the evil? They insist upon it that it is manly to avenge insults. This is not true; but if they insist on saying it, they must not complain if others believe it, and if those who aspire, as the young always do, to be manly, without knowing precisely what it means, should be led by their own teaching to cherish vices for virtues, and shame instead of glory. On the other hand, men of the world mistake the christian character yet more widely; they say to themselves, 'How timid and abject it is! how entirely it narrows the mind! how it prevents all vigorous action! It would take the man of business, and tell him to spend life in lonely musings; it

would call men home from the ground of action, to cherish feelings and note down emotions; it would tell the thoughtful man to refrain from all independent research, and never to look beyond the letter.' In a word, christianity, as men of the world understand it, is not a very forcible nor intellectual thing; but, because it is harmless and well-meaning, they pay respect to its institutions, and to the hearts in which it resides.

But we must say what constitutes the manly christian character. The foremost trait is decision of mind, supported by strength of heart. Religion is an active duty; it is not so contemplative as many suppose; it never retires to meditate, leaving any active duty undone, if it can be done. True, our Saviour retired to meditate and pray; but it was when the night had come, and no man could work,-when the streets of Jerusalem were still, when deep sleep was on every eye, when the mourning for a time forgot their sorrows, and the sick were relieved from their pain;-then it was, that having worked the works of him that sent him all the day, he felt at liberty to spend the night in prayer to God. He never seems to have given time to sacred thought, so long as any thing remained to do; and we fear that the reason why men are so partial to the contemplative duties of religion, is, that it is pleasant to have the heart engaged in meditation, while it is hard to keep the hands busy in the service of God. But it is true nevertheless, that all depends, not on contemplations, feelings, and resolutions, but deeds. Active duty being thus important, it follows, that the manly trait, decision of mind, is one of the greatest excellences man can possess. Our Saviour himself possessed it in perfection; he was never for a moment at a loss, though surrounded by those who were proposing artful questions and writing down his replies. Though snares were every where spread for him, he walked through the world with confidence and security; and there never was a moment, when any hesitation, any faltering on his part, gave the least advantage to his foes. The reason was, that he had but one star to guide him; he had a single purpose in his breast, which he was determined to accomplish; and that was, to finish the work which was given him to do.