tance, as a sufficient recompense for all that he has done and suffered in your behalf. O then, be persuaded, my friends, to comply with this request. Be persuaded to give joy to God, to his Son, and to the blessed angels, to make this day a festival in heaven by repenting. Even now your heavenly Father is waiting for your return, and the Redeemer stands ready with expanded arms to receive you. Even now the white robes and the ring are provided, and the fatted calf is made ready to feast returning prodigals. Even now angels and archangels are ready to pour forth their most joyful songs to celebrate your return. And will you then, by persisting in your impenitence, seal up their lips? Will you render all this preparation in vain; and slight the raiment and the banquet which God has provided? Will you go away impenitent, and thus practically say, there shall be no joy in heaven this day on our account. God shall not be glorified, Christ shall not be gratified, angels shall not rejoice if we can prevent it? If there be any present, of whose feelings and conduct this is the language, we solemnly but reluctantly declare unto you, in the name of Jehovah, that God and his Son shall be glorified, and there shall be joy over you in heaven, notwithstanding all your endeavors to prevent it. Never shall any of his creatures rob God of his glory; and if you will not consent that his grace shall be glorified in your salvation, he will be compelled to glorify his justice in your everlasting destruction. If you will not allow the inhabitants of heaven to rejoice in your repentance, their love of justice, truth and holiness, will constrain them to rejoice in your condemnation, and to sing alleluia, while the smoke of your torment ascendeth up forever and ever. Hear then, ye immortal spirits, ye probationers for eternity, ye heirs of heaven or hell, hear and obey, before it is too late, the warning, inviting voice which calls you to repent.

[NOTE. This sermon was preached before the Maine Missionary Society, June, 1812.]

SERMON LXIX.

THE OPPRESSED SOUL SEEKING DIVINE
INTERPOSITION.

O Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me.-ISAIAH xxxviii. 14.

THESE Words compose part of a psalm, penned by Hezekiah, king of Judah, on his miraculous recovery from a dangerous disease. In the first part of this psalm, he describes the views and feelings which occupied his mind when he saw himself apparently on the brink of the grave. From this description, it appears that, though he had been one of the best kings with which God ever blessed a nation, he viewed his sins as great and numerous, and felt that he was, on account of them, justly exposed to the divine displeasure. Hence death appeared dreadful to him, and his dread of it was increased by the darkness which, at that time, before Christ had brought life and immortality to light, hung over a future state. Hence too he was assailed by fearful apprehensions of God's anger. I reckoned, says he, that as a lion he will crush me in pieces; he will cut me off with pining sickness; from day to night he will make an end of me. In consequence of these apprehensions he could neither look nor ask for help from God with confidence, as he had been accustomed to do. My eyes, he exclaims, fail upward; that is, I cannot look upward, cannot look to heaven for relief and consolation, as I formerly could. And when he endeavored to pray, he found that he offered nothing which deserved the

name of prayer; for unbelief and despondency prevailed. Like a crane or a swallow, says he, so did I chatter; that is, my prayers were little better than the complaints of a bird entangled in the snare of the fowler. Finally, he gave up all hope, and cried in bitterness of soul, I shall not see the Lord, even the Lord in the land of the living. But to the righteous there ariseth light in the darkness. There did in this case. And as soon as it began to dawn, faith revived, and he cried, though still with a feeble voice, O Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me; that is, be my help and deliverer, make my cause thine own, and do all that for me which thou seest to be necessary.

My hearers, if language was ever uttered by man, which all men ought to adopt; if a petition was ever presented by man, which all men ought to present before the mercy-seat, it is this. It is the very language which every soul does in effect adopt, when it applies to Jesus Christ in the exercise of faith. Would to God, I could persuade you all to adopt it from the heart. Then would your salvation be secure. I must make the attempt,

though I must confess with very feeble hopes of success. this view I shall endeavor to show,

With

I. That you all need some one to undertake for you; in other words, you need some one to make your cause his own, and to assist you in performing that work, on the performance of which your everlasting happiness depends. You are not indeed, like Hezekiah, on the bed of sickness, and apparently on the brink of the grave; but you soon will be there; and even before that time arrives, as well as then, and afterwards, you will need, greatly need some one to make your cause and your work his own. But, more particularly, you need some one to undertake,

1. To support and comfort you under the trials of life, and carry you safely through them. None of you know how numerous or how severe may be the trials which await you. This remark applies with particular force to all who have not far passed the meridian of life. If you live to old age, your afflictions, in all probability, will not be few. One thing at least is almost certain. If you live to that age, you will outlive nearly all the friends and companions of your youth; nearly all whose affection and society now make life pleasant. One after another, they will drop into the grave, and each successive loss will give your heart a pang. Some, who are now your friends,

will become your enemies, or at least their friendship for you will cool, and this may give you a pang still more severe. Some of you will lose children, perhaps all your children; others will see their children conduct in such a manner, that they will often wish, though in vain, that they had been written childless: others will meet with pecuniary losses and disappointments, and perhaps be constrained to leave their children almost or altogether unprovided for. Look back upon the history of this town for a few years, and you will not doubt that some who are now wealthy will be called in their old age to struggle with want, and die in poverty. And those who escape these trials must encounter the unavoidable evils which wait upon declining years. You must suffer pain and sickness, your senses and faculties will decline; you will be eclipsed by younger rivals: you will begin to feel that you are becoming less useful, and perhaps less respected; you will gradually lose your capacity for exertion, and for enjoyment; and every year, as it passes over your heads, will take something from your diminishing gratifications, and add something to your increasing infirmities. Youth, beauty, vivacity and vigor will be gone never to return; and the certainty that death is not far distant will, unless you are prepared for it, embitter your reflections, and prevent you from drawing comfort from within. Such is the common lot of But some of you will doubtless meet with afflictions still inore severe, -and all are liable to meet with them,-afflictions, which will wring your hearts with agony, and tempt you to seck relief by forbidden means. And do you not then, need some one to undertake that he will support and comfort you under these trials, that he will make them all work together for your good, and finally bring you out purified and refined, as gold out of the furnace? When relatives, children, and friends shall die, or prove unkind, will you need no one to supply their place in your affections, and console you for their loss? When earthly possessions are taken away, will you need no one who can give you durable riches? When your body, or your mind, or both together, shall be diseased, will you need no kind physician to administer relief?. Finally, when youth and sprightliness and vigor are gone, when heart and flesh fail, will you not need some one who can be the strength of your heart, and your portion forever. Yes, my hearers, my frail, dying hearers,

man.

you do, indeed you do, need some one who can undertake to perform all these things for you.

2. You need some one who can undertake to be your guide through life. The Scriptures assure us, that it is not in man who walketh, to direct his own steps, and a very limited observation will convince us that this assertion is strictly true. We cannot look around us without seeing numberless instances, in which passion, prejudice and evil example lead men astray; and we must be very young indeed, or very much favored, if the same causes have not already led us into errors. Even if men were less under the influence of these pernicious counsellors than they are, yet as they cannot look into futurity, nor foresee the consequences of events, they would greatly need a guide who can do both. Such a guide is necessary even to our happiness in the present life. For one proof of this, look at the connections which men form. As the young come forward on the stage of life, they connect themselves, and can scarcely avoid connecting themselves in various ways with their fellow creatures. They choose associates, friends, partners in business, and perhaps partners for life. Much of their success and happiness in the world depends on their making a wise choice. Yet, as they cannot search the heart, they are exceedingly liable to be deceived in the character of those with whom they form connections, and to make a choice of which they will bitterly repent. They are especially liable to such mistakes, because they form most of their connections in early life, when they are rash, inexperienced, and unacquainted with mankind. And how fatal may such mistakes prove. We may choose friends who are vicious or impious, and who will corrupt our principles or our morals. We may choose partners in business, who will prove imprudent or dishonest, and plunge us into inextricable embarrassments. We may choose partners for life, whose temper and conduct will make life a burden. Even if we choose those whose characters are good, we may be deceived; for how many, whose morals are correct in youth, prove unkind or licentious or intemperate in after life. For proofs of this, look at the many unhappy families which are every where to be found. Look at the many wives, whose lives are embittered by husbands improvident, or passionate, or unfaithful, or intemperate. Once they appeared moral, amiable, affectionate; but now how