Parochial and Plain Sermons

" Tl, e days ofthe years ofmy2ilgrimage are an hztdred and thirty years: few atd evil have the days of the years of my lire been; a,d lave hot attained,«lo lhe days of lhe years of the lire of my fathers, in the days of tleir pihjrimage."

I I¥ did the aged Patriarch call his days few, who had lived twice as long as men now live, when he spoke? why did he call them evil, seeing he had on the whole lived in riches and honour, and, what is more, in God's favour? yet he described his rime as short, his days as evil, and his life as lmt a pilgrimage. Or if we allow that his afflictions were such  to make hinl reasonably think cheal)ly of his life, iii spite of the blessings which attended it, yet that he should call it short, considering he had so nluch more rime for the highest lurposes of his leing than we have, is at first sig'ht surprising. He alhldes indeed to the longer life which 1)ad been granted to his fitthers, and perhaps felt a decrel)itude greater than theirs had been; yet this difference between him and them could hardly be the real 'ound of his com- 1)laint in the text, or more than a confirmation or occasion of if. It was hot because Abraham had lived one hundred and seventy-five years, and Isaac one hundred and eighty, and he himself, whose life was hot yet finished, but one hundred and thirty, that he ruade this mournful speech. For if nmtters not, when rime is gone, what length it bas beeu; and tlfis doubtless was the real cause why the Patriarch spolie as he did, hOt because his lire was shorter than his fathers', but because it was well nigh over. When life is past, it is all one whether it has lasted two hundrcd years or fifty. And it is this characteristic, stamped ou bureau lire in the day of its birth, riz. that it is mortal, which makes it under all circumstances and in every form equally feeble and despicable. All the points in which nmn differ, health and strength, high or low estate, happiness or misery, vanish belote this common lot, mortality. Pass a few years, and the longest-lived will be gone; nor will what is past profit him then, except in ifs consequences. And this sense of the nothingness of life, impressed on us by the very fact that it cornes to an end, is much deepened, when we contrast it with the capabilities of us who live it. Had Jacob lived Methuselah's age, he would bave called it short. This is what we all feel, though at first sight it seems a contradiction, that even though the days as they go be slow, and be laden with many events, or with sorrows or dreariness, leugthening them out and luaking them tedious, yet the year passes quick though the hours tarry, and time bygone is as a dream, though we thought it would never go while it was going. And the reason seems fo be this; that, when we contemplate human lire in itself, in however small a portion of it, we see implied in it tbe presence of a soul, the energy of  spiritual existence, of art accountble being; consciousness tells us this concerning it every m»ment. II, ut when we look back on it in memory, we vicw it but externally, as a mere lapse of time, as a mere ea.rthly history. Aud the longest duration of this exterlh%l wor]d is frs dust and weighs nothing, against one lnoment's lire of the world within. Thus we are ever expecting great things from lire, froln out internal consciousness every lllOl,ient of out havillg souls; and we are ever being disappointed, on considel'ing what we l,,ve gained fl'Oll rime past, or can hope ff'oto rime fo corne. And life is ever promising ald never fldfilling; and hence, however lolg it be, out days are few and evil. This is the puoEicular view of the subject on which I sh,ll now dwell. Our earthly lire then gives loromise of what it does not aCColnplish. It prolnises ilnmortality, yet it is mortal; it contains lire in death and eternity in rime; and it attracts us by begilmings which faith alone brings to an end. I lnean, when we take into accourir the powers with which out sortis are gifted as Christians, the very consciousness of these fills us with a cert, ainty that they lnust last beyond this life; that is in the case of good and holy men, whose 13resent state I say, is to them who 1,now theln well, an eal.nest of imlnortality. The greatness of their gifts, coutrasted with their scanty tilne for exercising them, forces the mind forward to the thought of aother life, as allnost the necessary counterpart and consequelce of this life, and certainly implied in tltis life, provided there be a righteous Governor of the wofld who does hot make man for nought.

This is a thought which will corne upon us hot a]ways, but under circumstances. And many perhaps of those vho at first hearing may think thcy never felt it, may 'ecognize what I mean, while I describe it. I mean, when one sees some excellent pcrson, whose graces we know, whose kindliness, aflhctionateness, tenderness, and generosity,—when we see him dying (let him have lived eve • so long; I ara hot supposing  premature death; let him live out his d«tys), the thought is fçrced upot us with a sort of surprise; "Surely, he is hot to die yet; he has hot yet had any opportunity of exercising duly those excellent gifts with which God has endowed him." Let him have lived seventy or eighty yers, yet it seems as if he had done nothing at all, and his lire we'e scarccly begm, fie has lived all his days peflaps in  trivate sphere; he hs been engaged on a number of petty matte's which died with the day, and yielded no appa'ent fruik He has had just enough of trial unde • various circumstances, to evidence, but not adetiuately to employ, what ws in him. He h, we leflaps perceive,  noble benevolence of mind, a warmth of hea% and  beneficent retaper, which, had it the means, wotfld sctter blessings on every side; yet he has never been 'ich,—he dies poo . We have been ccustomed to say to ourselves, "What -ofld such  one be vere he vealthy?" not as fancying he eve" u,ill have riches, but from feeling how he would become them; yet, when he actually does die as he lived, without them, ve feel somehov disappointed,—the'e has been a faflm'e,—his mind, we think, hs neve • reached its scope,—he hs had  treasure witlfin him which has never been used. His days have been but few and evil, and have beeome old mlseasonably, eompared with his eapabilities; and we are driven by a sense of these, fo look on fo a future state as a rime when they will be brought out. and eome into effect. I ara hot attempting by such refleetions fo prove that there is a future state; let. us take t.hat for granted. I mean, over and above out positive belief in this great truth, we are aetually driven fo a belief, we attain a sort of sensille eonvieti«)n «,f that lire fo COUle, a eertainty striking holne fo our hearts and piercing them, by this imperfection in wh;tt is prcsent. The very greatness (,f out powers makes this lire l«»vk pitihfl; the very pitifulness of this lire f,rees tlll olir tlmughts fo anothcr; and the prospeet «,f almther gives a dignity and value fo this lire whieh prmnises if; and thus this lire is at once great and little, and we rightly eontenm if while we exalt ifs importance. And, if this lire is short, even when longest, from the great dispropçrtion between it and the powers of regenerate man, still more is this the case, of course, where if is cut short, and death cornes prematurely. Men there are, who, in a single moment of their lires, have shown a superhuman height and majesty of nlind whieh if would take ages for them fo employ on ifs proper ohjeets, and, as if were, to exhaust; and who by such passing flashes, like rays of the sun, and the darting of lightning, give t.oken of their ilnmortality, give token to us that they are but Angels in disguise, the eleet of God seMed for eternal life, and destined to judge the world and fo reign with Christ for ever. Yet they are suddenly taken away, and we have hardly recognized them when we lose them. Can we believe t.hat they are hot removed for higher things elsewhere? This is somerimes said with referenee to our intellectual powers; but it is still more true of out moral nature. There is something in moral truth and goodness, in faith, in firnmess, in heavenly-mindedness, in meekness, in courage, in loving-kindness, fo which this world's eircumstanees are quite unequal, for whieh the longest lire is iusuffieient, which makes the highest opp,rtunities of this world disappointing, which must burst the prison of this world to bave its al,lropriate range. So that when a good man dies, one is led to say, " He has hot hall showed himself, he has had nothing to exercise him; his days are gone like a shadow, and he is withered like grass." I say the word " disappointing " is the only word to express out feelings on the death of God's saints. Unless out faith be very active, so as to pierce beyond the grave, and realize the future, we feel depressed at what seems like a faflure of great tl;ings. And from this very feeling surely, by a sort of contradiction, we may thirly take hope; for if this lire be so disappointing, so unfinished, snrely it is hot the whole. This feeling of disappointment will often corne upon us in an especial way, on happening to hear of or to witness the deathbeds of holy men. The hour of death seems fo be a season, of whieh, in the hands of Providence, much might be ruade, if I may use the tenn; mueh might be done for the glory of God, the good of man, and the manifestation of the person dying. And beforehand friends will peflaps look forward, and exloect that great things are then to

2 2o The Grcatzcss and Littleucss take place, which they shall never forger. Yet, " how dieth the wise man? as the tbol." 1 Sch is the preacher's eXl,cricnce, and our own bears witness to it. King Josiah, thc zcalous servant of the Living God, died the dcth of wicked Ahab, the worshipper of ]3aal. Tre Christians die as other men. One dies by a sudden accident, anothcr in battle, another without friends fo sec how he dies, a tburth is insensible or hot hilnself. Thus t.hc OlpOl'tUlfity seems throwu away, and we are f[rci.ily renfinded that " the lnanifestation of the sons of (l[,d"  is hot'carter; that "the earnest expectation ot" the crcature" is bnt waiting for it; that this lire is uncqu;d fo the burden of so gTeat au office as the due exhilitiol of those secret ones who shall one day " shine firth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." s llut fluther (if it be allowable o speculate), one can even conceive the saine kind of feeling, and a most transporting one, to corne over the soul of the faithfld Christian, whcn just separated from the body, and conscions that his trial is once for all over. Though lris lire has been a long and painful discipline, yet when it is over, we may suppose him to feel at the moment the saine srt of surprise at ifs being ended, as generally follows any exertion in this lire, when the object is gained and the uticipation over. When we have wound up out lninds for any point of rime, any great eYent, an interview with strangers, or the sight of SOlUe wonder, or the occasion of some nnusual trial, when if cornes, and is gone, we have a strange reverse of feeling fl'on out changed circumstances. Such, but without any  Eccles. il. 16.: Rom. viii. 19. a ]iatt. xiii. 43.

mixture of pain, without any lassitude, dulness, or disappointment, may be the happy contemplatio of the disembodied spirit; as if if said fo itself, " So all is now over; this is vhat I have so long waited ff)r; for which I hare nerved myself; against which I have prepared, fasted, prayed, and wrought righteousness. Death is corne and gone,—it is over. Ah! is if possible? What an easy trial, what a cheap price tbr eternal gl,_,ry! A few slmrp sicknesses, or some acute pain awhile, or Solne few and evil years, or some struggles of mind, dreary desolateness for a season, fightings and fears, afilicting bereavements, or the scorn and iii-usage of the world, how they fretted me, how much I thought of theln, yet how little really they are! How contemptible a thing is human life,—contemptible in itself, yet in its eïtbcts invaluable! for if has been fo me like a small seed of easy purchase, germhmting and ripening into bliss everlasting." • Such being the unprofitableness of this life, viewed in itself, it is plain how we should regard it whfle we go through it. Ve should remember that it is scarcely more than an accident of our being—that it is no part of ourselves, who are immooEal; that we are immortal spirits, independent of time and space, and that this life is but a sooE of outward stage, on which ve act for a rime, and which is only suflicient and only intended to answer the purpose of trying whether we will serve God or no. We shoMd consider ourselves to be in this vorld in no fuller sense than players in any gaine are in the gaine; and life tobe a sort of dream, as detached and as different from our real eternal existence, as a dream differs from waking; a serious dream, indeed, as affording a means of judging s, yet in itself a kind of shadow without substauce,, scene set before s, in which we see, to be, aml in vhich itis out duty to act just as if all we saw had a. lruth and reality, because all that meets us inflwnces us and oltr dcstiay. The regenerate soul is taken into comnmiou with Saints and Augcls, and its "lire is hid with Christ iu G,»d;',« it has a 1)lace in G,)d's court, ad is hot Ç,f this world,—h, oking into this world as a Sl)ectah,r might l)ok at some show or pageant, excel)t whÇ.n callÇ.d fl'()m tilne to rime to take a part. And while it Ç)lcys the instinct af the senses, it d,»es so for (od's sale,, and it sullnits itself to tbings of rime so far as fo 1)e 1)rt)ught to 1)el'fcctiol by thcm, that, when the veil is withdrawn and it sees itsclf to be, where it ever has been, in Gd's kingdtm, if may be found worthy to enjoy it. Itis this view of lire, which removes from us all SUl])rise and disappoiutment that it is so incolnplete: as well might we expect any chance event which hal)pens in the course of it to 1)e coml)lete, any casual conversation with a st.rauger, or the toil or amusemelt of an hour. Let us then thus account of or iresent state: if is preci(,us as revealing to us, amid shadows and figures, the existence and attributes of Ahnighty Goal and His elect leol)lc: it is precious, because it enables us to hold intcrcourse with immortal souls who are on their trial as we are. It is momentous, as being the scene and nmans of our trial; but beyond this it has no claires upon us. "Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, all is vanity." We may be 1)oor or rich, young or old, homured  Col. iii. 3.

or slighted, and it ought fo affect us no more, neither fo elate us nor depress us, than if we were actors in a play, who know that the characters they represent are hot their own, md that though they may appear to be superior one to another, to be kings or to be peasants, they are in reality fll on a level. The one desire which should move us should be, first of ai1, that of seeing Him face to face, who is now hid from us; and next of enjoying eternal and direct communiera, in and through Ilim, with out friends around us, whom at present we know only through the medium of sense, by precarious and partial chamels, which give us little insight hto their hearts. These are suitable feelings tovards this attractive but deceitful wor!d. Vhat have we to do with its gifts and honours, who, having been already baptized hto the world to corne, are no longer citizens of this? Why should we be anxious for a long life, or wealth, or credit, or comfort, who know that the next world will be every thing which our hearts can wish, and that hot in appearance only, 1,ut truly and everlastingly? Why should we rest hx this world, when if is the token and promise of another? Why should we be content with its sm— face, instead of appropriating what is stored beneath if? To those who live by faith, every thing they see speaks of that future world; the very glories of nature, the sun, moon, and stars, and the richness and the beauty of the earth, are as types and figures witnessing and teaching the invisible things of God. Ail that we see is destined one day to burst forth into a heavenly bloom, and to be transfigured into immortal glory. Heaven af present is out of sight, but in due time, as snow melts and discovers wbat if lay upon, so will tbis visil}le creation fade away lefore those greater splendours which are behind it, and on which at present it depends. In that day shadows will retire, and the substance show itself. The sun will grow pale and be lost in the sky, but it will be before the radiance of 1 [ira whom if does but image, the,qun of Ilighteousness, with healiug on I[is wings, who will corne forth tu visible fi»rm, as a bridegroom out of his chamber, whilc lits perisl,al,lc type decays. The stars which surround if will l,e repltced by Saints and Angels circling l lis thr, me. Above and bel,w, the clouds of the air, the trees of the field, the v«aters of tbe great deep will be fimud impregnated with the fi»rms of eveflasting spirits, the servants of God which do t[is pleasure. And out own mortd 1}odies will then be found in like manner to contain within theln an inner man, which will then receive ifs due proportions, as the soul's harm,»nious of gan, instead of that gross rnass of flesh and blood which sight and touch are sensible of. For this glorious manife.tation the whole creation is at present in travail, earnestly desiring that it may be accomplished in ifs season. These are thoughts to make us eagerly and devoutly say, "Crne, Lord Jesus, to end the time of waiting, of darkness, of turl,ulece, of disputing, of sorrow, of tare." These are thoughts t.o lead us to rejoice in eve3 day and hour that passes, as bringing us nearer the rime of His appearing, and the termination of sin and misery. They are thoughts which ought thus to affect us; and so they would, were it hot for the load of guilt which weighs upon us, for sins committed against light and grace. O that it were otherwise with us! O that we x'ere fitted daly to receive this lesson which the world gives us, and had so improved the gifts of lire, t.hat while we felt it t.o be perishing, we might rejoice in it as precious! 0 that we were hot conscious of deep st.ains upon out souls, the accumulations of past years, and of infirmities cont.inually besetting us! Were it hot for all this,—were it hot for out unprepared star.e, as in one sense it may truly be called, how gladly should we hail each new month and year as a token tlmt out Saviour is so much nearer fo us than IIe ever has been yet I!XIty He grant Itis grace abundant.ly to us, to make us meet fi)r His presence, that. we may hot be ashamed before tIim at His eoming! May He vouchsafe to us the fall grace of His ordinances: may He feed us with tIis choicest gifts: mav He expel the poison from out souls: may He wash us clean in His precious blood, and give us the fulness of faith, love, and hope, as foretastes of the heaveuly portion which IIe destines for us