too, have their moments of refreshment, and how, let me ask, how are those moments spent? Is the fruit of your labour, which should contribute to the support of some aged parent, who, poor as he was, supported thee when thou wert young and helpless; some wife, whom thou hast taken to thy bosom, and hast sworn to love, and comfort, and honour, and keep in sickness and in health, so long as ye both shall live; some children, whose very helplessness should plead for them;-is all this wasted in low and heartless pleasures? and is the parent left to indigence, the wife to solitude, the children to present and future misery? If the advancing improvements in your country have given you the rudiments of knowledge, how employest thou the gift? Is the book of life often in your hands? resortest thou to it for comfort and consolation? enjoyest thou within its pages that peace which the world cannot give?

or is it laid carelessly by, opened only when dread of danger approach, closed when that dread be past? In the morning, when thou goest forth unto thy labour, and at even, when thou returnest from it, is the knee ever bent? is the voice of prayer ever heard, pouring out thanksgivings unto him, who prospereth the labour of thy hands, and giveth the earth its increase? You whom providence, perchance, has placed in scenes of less severe trial, and surrounded by fewer privations, despise not the words that have been uttered, listen not to them with a languid and indifferent ear; if you have more of this world's goods than they, recollect you have more to answer for than they. The king of Israel speaks alike to all; if the world hath hitherto engrossed all your care, if the knee hath never yet learnt to bend in homage to its Maker, if the vow hath never yet been paid, let the voice of one, who speaks

the mission of his Master, arrest thee but an instant in thy rash career; wave him not away with thine hand, turn not from him thine eyes, close not thine ear, tell him not, Now I am young and vigorous, my spirits are high and bounding, my soul is free, let me now enjoy my youth, let me walk in the ways of my own heart, and in the sight of my own eyes; a little while, and this pleasant season shall have passed away, I shall cease to be young, I shall cease to be strong, my spirits will become faint and drooping, my soul will be chained down; years will gather round about my head, my hair will grow grey, my step will totter, my sight will fail me; then, powerless and decrepit as I shall be, unfit for the service of the world, then I will serve my God.'

Thinkest thou, presumptuous being that thou art, homage such as this will suffice for an all-wise, an all-powerful

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Creator? and even supposing that it might suffice, art thou so certain that thou couldest pay even this stinted portion? What is thy tenure of life? is it so fixed and unchangeable, that no vicissitude can affect it, no chance disturb? Reflect! have none crossed your path, fresh in the bloom of youth, bright in the anticipations of joy, at their feet flowers strewing their path before them, above their head a cloudless sky,-in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, has never the freshness of youth disappeared? the brightness of joy grown dim? the flowers withered from before their feet? clouds and thick darkness gathered round their heads? Like you, perhaps, they joyed in their youth; like you, they loved to walk in the ways of their own hearts, and in the sight of their own eyes -and now, where is their place to be found? The grass grows green upon their grave; their remembrance is but

the simple stone that may tell the passer by the years they numbered, or the name they bore: say not with the trembling but stubborn Felix, "Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." There is no season so convenient as this season; the present time is all we can call our own. This day ye have assembled in the temple of your Maker; this day ye have prayed,-God and your own hearts only know how truly, that you might be "led into the way of truth," that you might "hold the faith in unity of spirit, in the bond of peace, and in righteousness of life." This night the sincerity of your prayer may be attested; this night thy soul may be required of thee-the sleep which will come over thy limbs may never be broken! Never broken, did I say-broken, perhaps, for some brief space of mortal agony broken in the dead of the night, when not a sound is heard to ruffle the