let us immediately set about and endeavour to repair what is amiss, let us lose not-I most passionately beseech every one of you-let us lose not an instant of time; here, on this very spot, I in the act of speaking, you of listening to my words, let each of us put up a mental prayer to God, that he would quicken our zeal and diligence for the work; and, above all things, that he would grant us the assistance of his promised grace, which will both show us wherein we fail, and will teach us how to correct the error. And may he who will judge every man according to his work, and the means and opportunities vouchsafed to him, in the day of the renovation of all things, judge us deserving of a participation in those delights where love reigneth all in all, and every fear is banished from the heart; for "perfect love casteth out fear." Now to God, &c. SERMON VIII. RAISING THE WIDOW'S SON. LUKE vii. 12. Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. THE only son of his mother, and she a widow! Is there any of these on whom I look, one among you all, that have ever seen the hand of Providence laid upon the head of some darling child, whom ye have loved even more than your own souls, over whom ye have watched in infancy and in childhood, with all the tenderness and anxiety mothers only can know and feel? Have you beheld him weathering the storms of youth, and glowing with health, and joyous in spirits, and rich in hope, just about to embark on the wide world, where, by his honest industry, he might in some slight degree repay the debt of gratitude he owed to those who cherished and protected him? And as the sun of your happiness shone out in all its glory, has some dark cloud come over and obscured it? Has health fled those cheeks, and sickness come and dwelt there in its stead? Have you sat hour by hour at his bedside? Have you seen him gradually wasting and wasting away? And, last of all, have you followed foremost in the train of mourners, all that remained of what was once so dear? If so much of the sorrows of life have gone over your souls; if ye have ever been partakers in such a scene as this, ye can pity, ye can feel for this poor, lone, helpless woman. Once she had a husband to look up to, once she had a child to honour and defend her; now she was bereft of both, left alone in the world, husbandless, childless. Her afflictions did indeed make friends for her; there were many who went and consoled her, as you might go and console her; there were many who wept with her, as you might weep with her; there were many who accompanied her on her sad journey, as you might accompany her; the gospel tells us, "much people of the city was with her;" but there was not one in all that crowd, kind and attentive as they were, there was not one in all that crowd that could replace in her affections him she had lost. So bowed down with wretchedness, so covered with grief, as with a mantle, was there any thing that could have wrought a change in her, any thing that could have brought back again the smile of joy, that seemed to have departed for ever? Hope itself, ever self-indul gent and deceitful though it be, hope could not revive in her bosom one such thought as that. But the Saviour of mankind walked the earth. The time was not yet come, that he should be lifted up: he still went about doing good, and healing all that were afflicted. His disciples with him, he approached this city, which was called Nain: he approached the city Nain; just as he was come nigh unto the gate, suddenly the whole crowd of mourners poured forth; the unhappy widow about to take a last look at her child, like Rachel weeping for her children, who would not be comforted, because they were not; "and when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her." Gentleness and pity were wrought in his very nature; he ever compassionated the sufferings, nay, even the hardness of heart and stubbornness of man; witness his exclamations over the unbelieving city—" O |