DISCOURSE II.

MATTHEW xi. 30.

For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

WHEN Our Saviour uttered these words he did not mean to say, that his disciples would be free from all trouble. He did not intend to propose to them a complete security against the cares and misfortunes of life. He did not wish to represent the religion which he taught, as requiring of its professors no sacrifices, or as exposing them to no evils. Meek and forgiving as was his own character, he foresaw that this could not protect him against the malice of his foes, and that his heart, which was full of kindness to all around him, must soon pour forth its blood upon the cross. What else, then, could his friends expect? "The disciple," said he, "is not above his master, nor the servant above his lord." "It is enough for the disciple that he be as his master, and the servant as his lord. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more shall they call them of his household?" When he invites us to come unto him, therefore, it is to meliorate our condition indeed,

but not to render it perfectly happy in this life: it is that we may cast off the yoke which the world imposes upon us, and wear his which is comparatively easy to be borne :-it is that we may enter upon a more delightful service than that of the slaves of sin; yet a service not without its pains and trials:-it is that we may find rest unto our souls, but a rest not complete and uninterrupted on this side the grave. The life of the Christian must indeed be a life of self-denial; and yet it is comparatively a happy life. His condition is not without its cares and sorrows, and yet it is the most desirable of all conditions. Behold a paradox, my brethren! which the world always makes matter of wonder, and sometimes of ridicule, but which is capable of being defended on the plainest principles of common sense. The force of these principles is admitted in every thing that relates to the daily concerns of life, and yet we are too apt to reject them when applied to the concerns of the soul. A man who wished to secure any earthly benefit would be thought a fool if he did not adopt them; yet if adopted in order to obtain an eternal good, they are too often viewed as weak and childish. Let us consider them; and in so doing, let not our consciences shrink from the duty of deciding, whether, while we recognize their force with regard to our temporal interests, we also apply them to the more important concerns of eternity.

The first of these principles is, that no prudent man, who consults his own happiness, is ever so

much engrossed with present objects as to be regardless of the future. I speak now of the man of the world-of one whose sole purpose is to make the most of human life, to secure the greatest possible share of its pleasures, its riches, its honours, or its ease. Scrutinize his daily conduct; follow him to his retirement; enter into the chamber of his soul;—what engrosses his thoughts? Whither do his motives of conduct lead? Where do his desires tend? To what are his plans directed? When does he hope to see them accomplished? To-morrow! To-morrow he expects to "bear his blushing honours thick upon him." His coffers in a little while will be full; his sources of enjoyment and of ease equal to all the wants of his soul. Urge him to abandon his toil for what is future and uncertain, and to think only of the present moment so as to make the most of it; to eat, and drink, and be merry, for to-morrow he may die ;-talk to him of the disappointments of human life, and point to him thousands who have trod the same paths of diligence and carefulness in which he is walking, and have at last found them to end in complete failure; he would call such language that of a madman; and unless wallowing in the lowest depths of sensuality, seeking no gratifications but what are common to him with the brute, he would reply--that the voice of Wisdom bids him look to something beyond the present day, and that the smile of hope invites him to follow her towards some distant good. This regard to the

future governs all the conduct of life. Why should it not govern the concerns of the soul? It is folly to bound our views by the setting sun: why not extend them beyond the grave? It is prudent to make provision for old age: why should we neglect to provide for eternity?-Now of all men the Christian is the only one who does this: his views are commensurate with his existence: his plans are laid for eternity: his to-morrow will never end. Whatever, then, may be his trials and his sorrows in this pilgrimage of weariness, he has continually the satisfaction of reflecting that his eternal good is secure. Now, a conviction of this nature is sufficient to counterbalance all possible human evil, and to beget within the soul a kind of happiness which partakes of the divine. It does thus counterbalance human evil; for it may be seen shedding its solace in the obscurest abode of poverty, and in the darkest cell of the dungeon it often glows serenely on the cheek of the dying, and has beamed with celestial lustre in the last look of the martyr at the stake.

Again it is a plain principle of common sense, that great sacrifices ought to be made for the attainment of any valuable distant good. Ask the conqueror how many wearisome days and sleepless nights his crown has cost him. Let the statesman tell us what have been the paths of toil and difficulty which have led him near the throne of majesty. What price has the orator paid for the powers of his eloquence; or the painter for the skill of his

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pencil; or the poet for the magic of his song Count the daily cares and projects, and anxieties through which he has passed on whom wealth rolls in like a flood. In fine, ask the thousands whom you see busy around you, what is the meaning of all their bustle and industry, their rising early and sitting up late, their traversing of sea and land, their relinquishment of ease and comfort, and their incessant and indefatigable toil: they all aim at something future, and they hope to procure it by the sacrifice of a present good. This is their solace. This, in fact, is the sum of their actual happiness. Walk the rounds of life, and you will scarcely meet one who will not tell you that his present enjoyment consists in the hope of some distant good, and that to obtain this he is not unwilling to make frequent and great sacrifices.

This, my brethren, is the yoke of the world. None who are engaged in the pursuits of the world can lay it aside; and it is grievous to be borne. He who sustains it toils for what must perish in the very using. He knows that, after a few short days, what has cost him so much labour and anxiety, so much self-denial, and so many sacrifices, must inevitably, like himself, be laid in the grave of forgetfulness. Not a century will elapse before his very name may never be mentioned, except by the passing traveller who reads it on his tomb.

But the Christian-for what does he toil? For what does he take upon him the yoke of his Divine Master? For what does he practice a self-denial,