What multitudes of dying men, burdened with the load of unpardoned sin, and tormented by the accusations of a guilty conscience, have exclaimed with one with whose closing history many of you are familiar, “O, that I might come to that place of torment, that I may be sure to feel the worst, and to be freed from the fear of worse to come!" Not so the dying Christian. To him death has no sting; over him the grave boasts no victory; nor has the second death any power. "He knows in whom he has believed." His "life is hid with Christ in God." He has unshaken confidence that every thing is safe in the hands of Jesus Christ. Often have I seen him at that momentous hour, and heard him as his quivering lips commended his spirit to "him who loved him, and washed him in his own blood." Time would fail me to tell of Ignatius, of Polycarp, of Augustine, of Hilary, of John Huss, of Jerome of Prague, of Luther, of Melancthon, of Beza, of Patrick Hamilton, of George Wishart, of John Knox, of Tindal, of Bradford, of Cranmer, of Bunyan, of Bacon, of Robert Bruce, of Samuel Rutherford, of Claude, of Hervey, of Ralph Erskine, of Locke, of Baxter, of Matthew Henry, of Whitefield, of Edwards, of Brainerd, Dwight, Halyburton, Payson, Evarts,* and a host of men of whom the world was not worthy, all of whom "died in faith," and sung the songs of salvation as they bid adieu to their earthly pilgrimage. The history of the church is filled with testimonials to the worth and blessedness of the Bible which have flowed from lips, which though pallid in death, have glowed with praise. What but this book of God enables the child of faith, "when flesh and heart fail," to say, "Thou wilt show me the path of life; in thy presence is fulness of joy, and at thy right hand there are pleasures for ever more?" What but this prompts him to sing, "I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me in that day, and not to me only, but to all them that love his appearing ?" What but this book of grace and consolations, when death's icy hand chills his frame, and the grave unfolds its darkness and solitude, inspires the triumph, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" Not more distant are our thoughts from the thoughts of God, or earth from heaven, than are all the consolations of reason and philosophy from the consolations of the Bible to a dying man. There is one more topic which gives emphasis to the thought which I am endeavoring to illustrate, which I wish it were in my power to present in its native force and richness. The source and fulness of created good is the knowledge and enjoyment of God. "Give what thou wilt, without thee, we are poor, The mind of man is like a ship which the storm has dragged from her moorings and driven out to sea. It is tossed upon unknown waves, and has neither peace nor safety, until it can renew its communication with the shore. No sooner did it apostatize from God, than it was torn from its proper element, and separated from its proper object. Without the knowledge of God, mankind are like children deprived of a father, driven along, the sport of accident, with no hope for the future, and no security that their present happiness would endure, or their present misery end. Darkness would overshadow their path from the cradle to the grave. Without the knowledge of God, where would be those hopes which support man in the gloomy hours of adversity, where that gratitude and love that lend such a zest to his hours of joy! We are not competent to appreciate the effect were the knowledge of God blotted out of the universe. There was a moment when the only created mind, fully capable of comprehending the fearful thought, seemed to feel it as an insupportable reality. And who can tell the feelings of that mighty mind at that awful moment when God hid his face from him, and the suffering Son looked up in vain, and exclaimed, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me!" Nearly such would be the condition of this world without the Bible. The Bible alone points the exile to his native land. It conducts the wandering thirsty traveller to the very fountain of life. It leads the long-lost spirit back to God. But beside the support and hope which the knowledge of God procures, unspeakably greater is the pleasure we derive from loving him. What greater blessing has heaven bestowed upon the human race than pure and amiable affections? Of all men he is the most miserable who has nothing to love. His heart is cold, and his bosom like the desolate heath. Nor is there any thing that can revive and refresh his ‣ withered mind, until he has found an object on which to bestow his affections. No small portion of our happiness in this world arises from the love we feel toward those who are dear to us. We may indeed have affections that are not virtuous; but the pleasures we derive from them do not deserve the name. We may love what is unworthy, inconstant, and changeful; and then our expectations are defeated. We may love what is transient and dying; and then our joys are turned into grief. And yet, with all its fickleness and uncertainty, earth furnishes no such happiness as where heart yearns towards its fellow heart. In so far as their characters are faulty, the pleasure of our love it is true is in proportion diminished; and yet with all their blemishes, the loss of their affections could not be easily repaired. But suppose those we love are exalted beyond their fellow men, endowed with an amiable and generous mind, gifted with a strength of intellect and purpose that are softened by benevolence and condescension, and over all these qualities a winning manner throws its attractive charms; what delight do we experience in affectionate intercourse with them! We feel as it were, almost raised to their level, and enjoy a pride and gratification that we are esteemed worthy of their love. And this thought elevates us indeed, and keeps us above the level of the common world. And how careful are we to do nothing to forfeit their confidence, and what grief and self-reproach do we feel if we have forfeited it; for conscience tells us that the folly, the error is all our own. What then must be the happiness of fixing the heart on God, where there is nothing unlovely, nothing fickle, nothing false or dying! From our best affections toward creatures up to the love of God, there is a height as lofty as his ways and attributes are above the attributes and ways of mortals. No fear can haunt the mind that he may change, in his character or in his love. He is above the reach of accident or mutation, perfect in benevolence and power, and to those who trust in him is a sure and perpetually increasing source of joy. Men no longer grasp at shadows when they fix their hearts on God. They think of him, and are happy; they contemplate his nature, and their best affections and purest happiness become more exalted and more pure, the greater their love. Solicitude subsides into tranquillity, peace is invigorated to confidence, love awakes to joy, and not unfrequently joy to transport, at a view of the divine excellence and glory. And then to receive love for love; to lean on the bosom of divine faithfulness; to make the Eternal God our refuge and portion -this is the blessedness for which the spiritual nature of man is formed. This is that great law of moral attraction by which the soul enjoys even a sort of sympathy with the divine nature, and participates in his blessedness. The world has no substitute for such a source of joy. You may be happy, my young friends, without power, without influence, without learning, without wealth; but you cannot be happy without God. Give man all of this world that he desires; multiply around him the gratifications of sense and pleasures of thought; and if he have not God for his refuge and joy, the day is not far distant when he will feel that he is like the prodigal in a far country, feeding upon husks and clothing himself with rags. Nothing can make you miserable so long as you enjoy the presence of God. To feel every where surrounded with Deity; to see him every where, and every where enjoy him, this is the blessedness which the Bible is capable of imparting. Nothing separates such a mind "from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus his Lord." This 66 green earth” may be parched up, and all its sources of pleasure dried away; but such a mind ranges more delectable mountains, and quenches the ardour of its desires at fountains of living water. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters; he restoreth my soul." Such is the influence of this holy book on human |