set a token of grace. Let others write its history; we prefer to explain and to illustrate its mystery. The bow which, after the deluge, God is said to have in the cloud," is not to be considered as having been set there for the first time as a natural sign. From these words we are not to infer that the rainbow was an after thought and an after production of the Creator,-that it was unknown to the antediluvians,-that it neither spanned their skies, nor gladdened their hearts, nor glittered on their mountains; or that the first time it shone forth it served only to gild their graves. All that is to be inferred from these words is, that it was "set," or, as the word signifies more truly," appointed," then and there, for the first time, as a token of grace, as a sign and seal of the covenant which God had made with Noah. The rainbow which the apostolic seer saw in vision, encircling the throne of God, is generally supposed to have been a sign of the covenant made with Christ, and which, by way of eminence, is usually called the covenant of grace, and of which the covenant made with Noah was a type. The correspondence between the rainbow and the covenant, it may be interesting and perhaps instructive to some to have pointed out and illustrated; and this we now propose to do. 1. Was the bow of God's setting in the cloud?-the covenant was of God's making. "I do set my bow in the cloud," is his language respecting the one. "I have made a covenant with my chosen," is his language respecting the other. The "bow in the cloud," is indeed the bow of God." That stupendous arch of light, who but He could have cast over the earth? That sacred sign, who could have set "in the cloud" but He who has the treasures of the cloud in his keeping,-its tempests and its thunders. He "who holds the winds in his fists, and the waters in the hollow of his hand?" Yet not more visibly is the "bow in the cloud" the "bow of God," than the covenant of grace is the covenant of God. Not more evident is it that that sacred sign is of God's setting in the sky, than that his is the rainbow round about the throne." Of the covenant God was not only the maker, but of its making he was the mover; hence these words, "Deliver from going down to the pit, for I have found a ransom." To find out this ransom did he summon a general assembly of angels; did he call a council even of the Trinity? No, the only council called by the eternal Father was held in his own heart; his only advisers were his own thoughts in that council; the only orator that spake was his own grace. Of his making with Christ it is of his making also with man. The acceptance of the covenant on our part indeed, in virtue of which it becomes ours, ours its righteousness, and ours its rewards, is a personal act; with our heart it is received, with our hand it is signed; but the will to do the one and the power to do the other are of God. The making of the covenant with us, then, as well as with Christ, is his work, and is to the praise and the glory of his grace; and hence the language of David, “He hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure. As "the bow in the cloud," then, is of God's setting, the covenant, whether considered in relation to the transactions of eternity with Christ, or in relation to the transactions of time with the Christian, is of God's making. 2. Was the "bow set in the cloud" as a sign and a security that the " waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh?" Was it on this account that to the world's " grey fathers" it was an object of wonder and delight? Was it on this account that, in the early ages of the world, when as yet, on the majestic but melancholy face of nature, the scars of the deluge were distinct and deep; when every sight that met the eye of the beholder bore upon it the impress of ruin, and when every sound that broke upon his ear seemed to echo the shriekings of those waters that had so lately rolled their waves of death over the highest mountains, burying, in their unsounded depths, the vast population of a world? Was it, we ask, in these circumstances, when remembrance was so fresh, and when apprehension was so fearful, on this account, that the mother, as she held up her child to gaze on its radiant form, taught To us him to hail and to bless it as the "bow of God?" and to all the tribes of man, wherever its sacred character is known, is it, on this account, an object of highest interest still? While spanning the sky above and brightening the earth beneath, but exercising, as a natural phenomenon, not the slightest influence over its winds and its waves, is the "bow in the cloud' a greater security to the earth, that the waters shall not again overflow it, than the sands by which it is embanked, and the rocks by which it is fenced and girdled? In these respects it resembles the covenant of grace, and answers to the "rainbow round about the throne, and which, in sight, is like unto an emerald." When the winds are up,-when the tempest is forth,-when day is suddenly and awfully obscured,-when it seems as if the windows of heaven were once more about to be opened, and as if the fountains of the great deep were once more about to be unsealed,-when the sea is roaring and the hearts of men are failing them for fear, not only on the open seas in frail and foundering ships, but on the solid land; does a sight of the "bow in the cloud" hush our fears, and banish our apprehensions of a second flood? Thus it is with the sinner when awakened to a sense of his sin and misery, and when filled, for the first time, with apprehensions of the divine wrath, convinced that he is a sinner, but ignorant of Christ as a Saviour; filled with an apprehension of the divine wrath, but without an idea of the divine mercy; brought to a discovery of God as a sin-avenger, but having no knowledge of him as a sin-forgiver-of the law with its penalties, but ignorant of the Gospel with its promises of Sinai with its tempests, and threatenings, and terrors, but ignorant of Sion with its seal and its sceptre of mercy, its visions of peace, its voices of love and its invitations of grace; he is overwhelmed with a sense of his guilt, and under an apprehension of the wrath revealed against all unrighteousness and ungodliness of men, and so justly due to him. The day darkens around him, hope dies within him, and he is all but driven to despair; darkness thus without, and despair within, deep calling unto deep, wave dashing upon wave, the windows of heaven opening, and the fountains of the great deep rending. The Word of God is read by him, or it is addressed to him; " its entrance giveth light." The rainbow round about the throne bursts upon his view; he is struck with its absorbing brilliance and glory; like the "bow in the cloud," he is assured that it is a symbol of mercy, a token of grace; that he who sits on the throne is a God of mercy and of grace; that on that rainbow-circled throne he sits not only willing but waiting to be gracious; that just as every man for whom the rainbow gilds the heavens, who lives beneath its all-embracing arch is safe from the waters of a second flood, so every man who will take hold of the covenant, who will accept of Christ "as the covenant of the people,' who will place himself beneath the "rainbow that is round about the throne," is as safe and secure from the wrath to come as if no such wrath were revealed or deserved; he believes, he obeys, he places himself beneath the bow of God, and is saved; nor is he saved only, he feels that he is saved; the burden falls from his heart, the sunshine plays around his head, the calm of heaven descends and dwells upon his soul, the earth brightens at his feet, bis closed lips are opened, he breaks into singing, and the burden of his song is, "O Lord I will praise thee, though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away, and thou comfortedst me." Behold God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid, for the Lord Jehovah is 66 my strength and my song, he also is become my salva- | gave himself an offering and a sacrifice of a sweet tion." smelling savour unto God;" while, in token to all the tribes of the earth that this end has been effected, there is a "bow in the cloud," ""a rainbow round about the throne." That the believer never loses this sense of security we do not say, for this were to contradict at once all experience and all Scripture: "Zion hath said, the Lord hath forsaken me, and my God hath forgotten me." "They that fear the Lord, and obey the voice of his servants," are addressed as "walking in darkness, and having no light." The heart of the believer is often burdened, his peace is often disturbed, his hopes those hopes which soared into heaven-are often darkened, and his lips are often sealed. For a small moment, however, will God forsake him, yea, with great mercies will he gather him. The rainbow that girds and that gilds the throne of God, hidden for a time, bursts upon his view again, and, ere long, while he, who sits " upon the throne" and "the flood," proclaims, "For this is as the waters of Noah unto me; for as I have sworn that the waters of Noah should no more go over the earth, so have I sworn that I should not be wroth with thee nor rebuke thee. For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee."-These words, in the dark and desolate hour of the believer, "makes all things new." 3. Was the "bow set in the cloud" consequently to Noah's sacrifice, in "which God smelled a sweet savour?" The covenant was ratified and revealed, in consequence of Christ's sacrifice, and of God's "smelling a sweet savour" in it. On the waters "assuaging and abating from off the face of the earth," and on Noah's leaving the ark, which, after floating for months on the bosom of the flood, with the few survivors in its keeping of the race that lay sleeping in death below, rested at last upon the mountain of Ararat, he built an altar to the Lord, and on that altar offered sacrifice, in which it is said that the Lord "smelled a sweet savour;" and because of his being pleased with it, or, as the word signifies, propitiated by it, "He said in his heart, that for man's sake he would not curse the ground any more, and that he would not smite any more every living thing as he had done;" "which things are an allegory." The wrath of God being due to sin, being revealed against it, how was it that, on the entrance of sin, it was not forthwith and fully poured out upon it? Why, instead of darkness gathering around the throne of God, and thick clouds of the sky," was it encircled with a "rainbow?" Or if it be said that, on the entrance of sin, darkness gathered there, and "thick clouds of the sky," why did not these clouds burst, and discharge their thunder stores upon the earth? Why, in these clouds, black with "death and woe," as they doubtless were, did he " set his bow" as a sign of grace? Why, in one word, instead of a proclamation of banishment from God's presence, did there go forth from his throne a proclamation of pardon to the guilty, and an invitation of recall to the apostate race of man? For an answer, we bid you turn to the altar and the sacrifice of Christ, "who," says the apostle, "loved us, and gave himself for us, an offering and a sweet smelling savour unto God." The truth of Christ's sacrifice it is not our object at present to establish; we would observe merely that its necessity was absolute. Mercy might have her seat and her sceptre, but justice must have her sacrifice and her sword; a rainbow might be lighted up around the throne of God in heaven, but on the altar of justice a fire must be lighted up on earth; mercy might brighten the throne of God, but justice and judgment must sustain it; it might be converted into a throne of grace, but it must not cease the less to be a throne of glory; for which end, so loving and so lofty, so glorious to God and so gracious to man, Christ 4. Is "the bow in the cloud" formed by the rays of the sun? Without the sun, would there be no rainbow? Without Christ, the "Sun of Righteousness," there would be no covenant, no "sure mercies of David," no enlightening mercies for the ignorant, no pardoning mercies for the guilty, no adopting mercies for the outcast, no sanctifying mercies for the polluted, and no saving mercies for the lost; but for Him, whose symbol is the sun, there would have been " no rainbow round about the throne." Again, is the rainbow formed not only by means of the rays of light, but does it present these rays collected and condensed? In the covenant, in like manner, we have not an exhibition merely of single and separate perfections of the divine character, but an assemblage of the whole; not like the light that is everywhere diffused, but like the light, when so col-, lected and so commingling, as to form the radiant bow of heaven. Thus, as the rainbow is the glory of light, the covenant is the glory of God. While creation emits a ray of his wisdom, a ray of his power, a ray of his holiness, a ray of his justice, a ray of his goodness, and a ray of his truth, as a ray of light is emitted from some dim and distant star, from this assemblage of his perfections in the covenant there bursts forth a perfect blaze, as from a constellation of ten thousand suns, when each of them shineth in his strength; and thus, while on creation's scroll the character of God is but half and dimly written, and while those who would decypher its marred and mutilated legends, are perplexed and pained, on the roll of the covenant it is written fully and clearly, so that he "who runs may read," and he who reads must be filled with wonder and joy. Nor is this wonder and joy confined to the bosoms of men; they have been created in the bosoms of angels,-into these "things the angels desire to look." Nor among the objects that have attracted their attention, have any excited a deeper admiration, or rivetted a gladder gaze, or called forth a louder and loftier doxology from their adoring ranks, than when first burst on their view the rainbow round about the throne." Lastly, Is the "bow in the cloud" indebted not only to the sun for its existence, but to the cloud itself in which it is set, and on which it shines? It is so with the covenant; not only is it indebted for its existence to the "Sun of Righteousness," but to the dark cloud of sin and hell. Were there no cloud, there would be no rainbow; and had it not been for sin, and death, and hell, there would have been no covenant. As a cloud is the prerequisite of the rainbow, sin is the prerequisite of grace. Had not the sword of justice been unsheathed, the sceptre of mercy would not have been outstretched. Had not the throne of God been insulted by the sin of man, by the Saviour of man it had never become a throne of grace; while, to woo us back to its foot, and to win us back to kneel and to adore there with those elders of light and immortality who surround it, no rainbow had been ever lighted up to encircle and to adorn it. Thus has God brought good out of evil, light out of darkness, and life out of death,-thus, where "sin abounded, grace has been made much more to abound,"-" thus, as it often happens to the evening sun that the clouds which accompanied it in its journey through the firmament, and oft hid its brightness from the observer's eye, form themselves into a gorgeous couch of gold and vermilion, on which the descending luminary seems to settle in majesty, giving beauty to its appearance, and brilliance to its departure," and thus, as on the bosom of the cloud, light is reflected in the glories of the bow, on the darker bosom of sin and death, God makes, and will for ever make, to be reflected, the glories of his grace, and thus, as on the clouds that gather and blacken in our skies, God sets his bow, where it shines in beauty undecaying, and serenity undisturbed, an object of wonder and delight to all the tribes of this lower world, forming on, and reflected from, the clouds that will gather and blacken on the world of woe, the "rainbow that is round about the throne" of God will shine an object of matchless wonder and delight in the gaze of an adoring universe for ever. While we think, then, on the entrance of sin into the earth, on all that it is, and on all it has done; and while, over the miseries with which this guilty world is full, over its bodily pains, over its mortal anguish, over its blighted hopes, over its broken hearts, over its darkened chambers, over its dying beds, over its crowds of mourners, over its peopled sepulchres, over its sights of sorrow, over its sounds of woe, sounds which, whether issuing from mansions of marble or cottages of clay, from foundering ships, from famishing cities, from plague-struck lands, from the living or the dying, have never ceased to be uttered, and blending in one mighty He man viewed merely as an inhabitant of this world, It is true that this world and its inhabitants, as being the works of God, are all great and glorious. They are full of evidences of divine power, wisdom, and goodness, and are not to be vilified. The royal preacher does not denominate these things vanity. It is the misapplication or perversion of earthly good that is vanity,-resting in the objects of this world alone, without reference to that great Being from whose supreme will they derived their existence, and whose will is also the law of their continuance, and without reference to the ultimate end of creation, and the advancement of the divine glory. Man, in himself, separated from the great Author of his existence, is altogether mean and insignificant. It is God that made him, that preserves him, that redeems him, that designs him for high destinies. It is on God that he depends for the least and greatest of his enjoyments, for the life that now is, and the prospect of a better and immortal life. But if man lives" without God in the world," and acts independently of him; if his actions have no reference to immortality, then " vanity of vanities" is the characteristic of him, and of all his pursuits. wail to ascend unto heaven; and while over the new and unexperienced miseries it has yet to be smitten with and yet to endure, over the smouldering fires, over the gathering terrors of its DYING DAY, while, we say, over miseries like these, and over the miseries of the world to come, of which these are but the type, we cannot but "weep and lament;"-is it true that, but for the sacrifice and the death of Christ, the wickedness of man, great as it is in the earth, would have been a thousand times greater;-is it true that, owing to his death, the wickedness of man has not only been stayed from increasing, but the wrath which is treasured up against it from bursting;-is it true that, from all this wickedness, and all this wrath, a way of escape has been effected for us, and revealed to us;-is it true that if, from the entrance of sin, God has taken occasion to demonstrate the inflexibility of his justice, and to pour around it a most awful illustration, he has, at the same time, snatched the occasion, to demonstrate the riches and extent of his mercy, yea, to reveal the It is a sad truth, that, by nature, our affections very existence of that attribute to his creatures, a perare estranged from God, and our lives contrary to fection till that time unsignalized and unknown;-is it his pure laws. Although He is the fountain of true that if, by the entrance of sin into our world, creation has been covered with ruin, by the blood of the all our happiness, we are alienated from him, and covenant this ruin has not only been retrieved, but glo- studiously seek to find our happiness from other riously reversed;-is it true, that if the first paradise sources. This is the great malady of our nature, has been lost, a more blissful paradise has been won ;- this is the origin of all those exhibitions of vanity is it true, that the way to this paradise has been made which characterise our pursuits. It is, however, known, that its gates to all the tribes of man have been the characteristic of the renewed and sanctified thrown open;—and is it true that, with the majestic rainbow of the covenant for their arch, they stand in creature, that he is, in some measure, deliverall their majesty of mercy, open night and day? Sayed from this evil, and led to place his delights then if, while over the existence, and aboundings, and in God, and to direct his views to future miseries of sin, we have cause to weep and lament, glory. if, over the existence, and aboundings, and blessings of grace, we have not cause to wonder and to rejoice? It is said in the text, "the heart of the sons of men is full of evil, and madness is in their heart while they live, and after that they go to the dead." This is a true and just description of man in his natural state,-unrestrained by religion-alienated from God-and without that dignified direction of his powers and faculties which ought to distinguish the immortal creature. I. The text says, "the heart of the sons of men is full of evil." "The imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth." "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." We have within us a "carnal mind," which " is enmity against God, for it is not subject to the law of God." There is | an "evil treasure" in our hearts, which "bringeth forth evil things." "As a fountain casteth out her waters,” so do our hearts cast out wickedness. It is from the heart that the evil actions of the life proceed. It is the well-spring of corruption that is within us, that stains and deforms the outward man. A pure, perfect, exalted, and truly virtuous frame of mind, implies that God will be reverenced, and loved, and delighted in, and thought of, as he ought to be. He is in himself all that is glorious and excellent, all that can engage the affections of holy creatures. Can that frame of mind be sound and good which repudiates the love and service of the High and Holy One? Can those rational creatures be pursuing the end and glory of their existence who know not and fear not God? No. This implies a distempered frame of mind, a depraved and degraded nature in the creature. There is no purity, perfection, and soundness in that soul that neglects and despises Him who is the source and centre of all good. And can we say that we reverence and love God as we ought? Can we say that we make him the object of our supreme delight? Can we say that our souls are. full of glowing piety? Do our spirits rejoice to seek communion with our great and Almighty Father? Alas! how little are our affections and delights directed to him, how little of pious intercourse have our spirits with him. Sustainer of our hourly existence, and source of all our joys and blessings, though he be, must it not be said of many of us, that he is not in all our thoughts? Must it not be sard of many, that they are insensible to all the grandeur of his power, and to all the attractive charms of his mercy? They live without God in the world," they disown his sovereignty over the affairs of men, they say, "we will not have the Lord to reign over us." The perishing vanities of an hour receive all that homage of the heart which God claims as his due, and which it should be our delight to give. This latent impiety breaks forth in neglect of the ordinances of God, in profanation of his holy name, in acts of irreverence and disobedience. Shall we not, therefore, conclude that "the heart of the sons of men is full of evil?" It is destitute of the prime and most essential virtue, it is full of impiety, the most malignant kind of sin. The heart that is pure and virtuous will feel candidly, generously, and kindly with regard to others; it will love their persons, and desire their happiness. No malevolent passion will darken it, or obstruct the play of its benevolent sympathies. It will feel for others with lively sensibility, and have a sincere interest in their welfare. But where is the heart that is thus pure and virtuous? Where is the heart, the lustre of whose charity is never darkened? Where is the heart that feels for the happiness of others with all the solicitude of a personal interest? Alas! such pure and virgin gold can scarcely be found in the Is it not the case barren wastes of this world. that the heart is often full of bitterness, and malice, and wrath, and envy, and impatient irritability? Does it not swell with hatred? does it not boil with anger? Instead of rejoicing in the happiness of others, and contemplating their success with complacency, it often pines with secret envy. How often do slight differences divest it of all candid and charitable feeling? How often do trifling injuries awaken the flames of violent resentment, or the smouldering fire of lasting rancour? Does not the heart often derive malevolent pleasure from contemplating the frailties and crimes of others, or feel a cruel joy in their misfortunes and failures? Verily, "the heart of the sons of men is full of evil," full of gall and bitterness and fiendish passions. The heart that is pure and virtuous will be well regulated, and free from the stains of licentious appetite; its thoughts, and feelings, and inclinations will rise above all that is low, and sensual, and criminal. But where is the heart that is thus pure and virtuous? Does not the imagination too often wander uncontrolled to forbidden and sinful objects? Do not unchaste thoughts and desires sully the purity of the soul? Does not the heart delight in carnal and criminal joys, in pleasures that are low, gross, and sensual? It rises not to the bright atmosphere of moral purity, but broods over the taint and corruption of the world. Verily, "the heart of the sons of men is full of evil," full of criminal thoughts and carnal passions. The truly excellent soul will be raised above all mean and mercenary motives; it will have no strong and unhallowed love for the gains of mammon. But, alas, how large a share of the affections is engrossed by the wealth of this world! How often is the love of gain the master passion of the heart! How often are the worship, and esteem, and trust, which ought to be given to God alone, given to the perishing treasures of the earth! So distorted is the care and devotion of the heart, -so mean and unworthy are the objects of its affection and pursuit. Again we are forced to the conclusion, that "the heart of the sons of men is full of evil." We refrain from filling up the picture by materials drawn from the darker passages of the world's history, or the records of crime; we speak of the general state of man, and general history and experience do sufficiently prove that "the heart of the sons of men is full of evil.” Search the heart closely and candidly, and you will discover with what unseemly furniture you have replenished its chambers. The God who made it is denied admittance. Its doors are barred against the light of that heaven for which it was destined; but all that is dark, and vile, and vicious, find within it a welcome and secure abode. II. The text says, that "madness is in the hearts of men while they live." No man, however infatuated or absurd, has much self-consciousness of such qualities. He may be sometimes aware that his conduct is different from that of those around him, but his selflove prevents any suspicion that the difference arises from any deficiency of wisdom in himself. In the wildest sallies of his folly he enjoys the complacent regards of his own heart and deals out his unsparing censures on the infatuation of his neighbours. The self-complacency of men, in their most extravagant eccentricities and strangest phrenzies, is often quite imperturbable. Hence arise mutual accusations of folly and madness, often equally just in their application to the mutual accusers, but thrown out with equal blindness of any applicability to themselves. A degree of varied infatuation seems to be the universal characteristic of man. It is in this light that many of our fancies and pursuits must appear in the sight of superior orders of intelligence. quences, and yet, with an infatuation greater than that of the most outrageous lunatic, he clings to that which is the source of all these evils. The dominion of any passion is a temporary insanity. During a fit of anger a man is blind to the suggestions of reason, he scarcely knows what he is doing, he does not see the consequences of his conduct, he is hurried on by a wild impetuosity which he cannot restrain. These are instances which prove that "madness is in the hearts of men while they live." But we have not yet stated the case in all its melancholy magnitude. The perverse opposition of men to the will, to the threatenings, to the merciful invitations of God, and the indifference which they exhibit to the eternal interests of their souls, still farther prove the marvellous infatuation of the heart. Is there any thing more incompatible with the That the will of the supreme Being is the law dictates of reason than the conduct of the miser? to which we ought to be conformed, is what sober To amass riches, not for the sake of their use, not and unprejudiced reason declares. The Sovereign for the sake of the necessaries and comforts which of the universe is both capable of enjoining what they may procure, but for the mere pleasure of is best, and has an unquestionable right to demand amassing and contemplating the magnitude of the what service he pleases. Is that heart, then, wise heap, is so inexpressibly absurd that it has been a and reasonable which prefers its own pleasures and fertile theme for the satirist in every age. To inclinations to the will of God? Is that mind aim after an honest independence, to seek wealth influenced by sound principles which, in its wretchas the means of procuring the necessaries and ed frailty, follows its own direction, and sets at comforts of life, are not only intelligible things, nought the commands of the Lord of all? We but we are prompted to them by a law of our cannot designate, by any softer term, than that of nature. But is there anything in the records of madness, the opposition of heart and life which the lunacy that can rival the absurdity of heaping up creature manifests to the glorious and all-perfect riches, merely for the strange pleasure of contem- | Creator. plating a hoard? This, surely, is one instance in which we are justified in saying that "madness is in the heart." While the miser lives, the whole of his care and affection is devoted to the most stupid and senseless of objects. But the opposite character of the spendthrift gives us an equal exhibition of the folly and madness of the heart. His thoughtless extravagance, his reckless waste of the means of doing good, his unprofitable squandering of his property, his entailing on himself embarrassment and poverty, are sufficient to evince his infatuation, even in the estimation of sober-minded worldly men. All the devotees of sinful pleasure are convicted of madness. What can be more insane than to follow those things which lead to lasting regret or painful remorse? How often do men bitterly rue and curse the moments they have devoted to false delights; they feel agonizingly their madness, and loathe it and mourn over it; but, ah! with infatuation still greater, they again plunge into the same guilty excesses, and again suffer all the bitterness of self-condemnation. Can we conceive madness greater than that of the victim of intemperance? He cannot be blind to the ruin he is inflicting upon himself. He makes his constitution a wreck,-he exposes his life to continual hazard and danger, he involves his affairs in disorder and confusion,-he impoverishes and neglects the care and interests of his family; his eyes are open to all these sad conse Our lives are in the hands of God; "in him we live, move, and have our being." It is in him, also, that our souls will find their highest good and their worthiest object of pursuit. How contrary, then, to every principle of reason and wisdom, is that aversion and alienation to God which prevail so strongly in the human heart! How absurd to seek no communion and intercourse with him, whose awful presence ever surrounds us, and whose merciful providence ever upholds us! How foolish and senseless to cast away all our thoughts and affections on worthless objects, and to bestow none of them on the everlasting and unchangeable excellence of God! Has not God denounced the most fearful threatenings against impenitence and guilt? Can these awful denunciations be read without making our hearts shudder with horror and dismay? Should not the menaced vengeance of the Almighty awaken an awful dread of offending him, paralyze every guilty emotion, and restrain every sinful act? Is it consistent with prudence, with common discretion, to brave the thunders of divine wrath? What, then, are we to say of the strange apathy of the human heart to God's threatenings, of the hardened impenitency which no denunciation of judgment to come, can alarm? What are we to say of those who go on in their wicked course, in defiance of the divine displeasure? This must be infatuation! This must be madness! For a frail creature, called from the dust by the power of |