storm which visited our city. the scenes of that night were appalling, but the disclosures of subsequent days truly heart-rending. We cannot but revert in a particular manner, to the helpless condition of our community, on that occasion. The night was dark, the wind howled as if bearing on it the most extensive desolation. Dangers gathered thick around us. And was there no shelter to which, in this hour of alarm, we could retreat? Was there no human voice which could soothe our fears, or arm that might be extended for our deliverance? No. To escape was impossible. What picture more affecting than that which the population of our city, then exhibited? Family separated from family-friend unable to minister to the relief of friend-heart vibrating in unison with heart-and all waiting, unconscious of what the coming morn would disclose, concerning themselves, relatives and friends. The tempest raged! and the most extensive desolation followed! But notwithstanding the violence of the storm, and the imminent danger in which we ourselves stood, where was the heart, in the midst of us, that did not move with compassion at the remembrance of Sullivan's Island? In this annual retreat of health, in this salubrious asylum, were collected our friends and fellow-citizens. The danger of their situation, past experience enabled us in some degree to realize. And no day ever dawned before upon our city, with more melancholy disclosures than the twentyeighth of September. The ravages of the storm, met us in every direction; and after having ascertained the mournful intelligence of the almost, I may say total loss exhibited, over which the heart of sensibility then wept, and now sighs. Yes. The tears of grief were profusely shed, for the ornaments of social intercourse were withdrawn, and the ties of connubial and parental affection broken. The scenes of the following morning, when the emblems of departed worth and beauty passed along, were truly mournful. But over this picture, and the still more dismal scenes of North Inlet, your feelings and time force me to draw a veil.*

To-day, then, let us render thanksgiving unto God, for his goodness in arresting the elements of the natural world, and bringing us deliverance. Let each one of us adopt the words of the Psalmist : "Bless the Lord, oh,

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my soul." Nor can I, when enumerating the various causes of thankfulness this day, overlook the goodness of God in preserving us for so long a period from the destructive element of fire.

Brethren, in reviewing those mercies we have received, during the past year, are we not forced to exclaim"How precious, oh, God, have thy thoughts been to"wards us! how great the sum of thy loving kindness!" But while we render unto God the thanksgivings of our hearts, for his manifold temporal blessings, let us in a still more exalted strain, adore his name for the gift of Christ, for the Gospel of peace, and all its privileges. Let us be humbled on account of our past sins, which are numerous and aggravated; and, finally, let us fervently pray

* For a more particular account of the ravages of this storm, see Sermon X.

"thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who re"deemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee " with loving kindness and tender mercies; who satis"fieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is "renewed like the eagle's." Amen.

EZEKIEL XXXIII. 8.

"O wicked man, thou shalt surely die."

MEN do not like to be told that they are wicked. The very idea implies so much censure, and is so derogatory to the character of a reasonable creature, that even those who acknowledge their wickedness, are displeased and hurt, if others remind them of it. It is a fact of which we cannot feel conscious, without feeling ourselves degraded. And it is a subject that will not bear reflection. Present the sinner with a true picture of himself, and he starts back from it, with precipitation and alarm. Its lineaments are too frightful and disgusting to be viewed with composure. Hence, some Gospel truths are so unwelcome, that the wicked cannot bear to think about them. As soon as their thoughts glance upon them, they fly off, as though they had approached something extremely disagreeable or noxious. Or, instead of applying them to themselves, they look about among their acquaintances, for some one to whose character they may be suitable.

It would therefore be much more agreeable to many, if the Minister of the Gospel could spend his time in delivering discourses, that would please, flatter, and entertain them. No doubt, if the pulpit always furnished a literary feast, the Philosopher and the man of Science, would be more uniform in his attendance at Church; Christians so soon forgetting the words of the Preacher. Nor would the instructions of the pulpit be passed over, in dead silence, without ever becoming the subjects of conversation, in the course of the week.

But, my fellow mortals, though the " terrors of the Lord," be an appalling theme, we must present them to your consciences. Though it be disagreeable to you, to sit and listen to a detail of your faults, and your sins; and though it be far from our wish, to excite your displeasure-nay, though it be painful to us, to be constantly denouncing sin and sinners, yet we must sound in your ears, the censures and the denunciations of the Gospel. We are charged with instructions from Almighty God, and we must deliver them. And I have ascended this pulpit to-day, to proclaim, in the words of my divine Master, "Woe to the wicked! it shall be ill with him, "saith the Lord. O wicked man, thou shalt surely die."

I trust there are, at least, some who wish to hear the truth. All are interested in our text. Attend, then, while we proclaim a few truths concerning the wicked, and concerning death. Nay, I entreat your attention, as you value your everlasting peace. Hear with reverence, for it is the truth of the great God. Hear as for Eternity -for you must oneday give account. Hear and obey, for " blessed are they who hear the word of God, and keep "it." You cannot need any other inducements, for I am pleading your own cause. I am pointing out to you, the way of happiness; and it will be "more tolerable for "Sodom and Gomorrah, in the day of judgment," than