sanctifies, while it animates the life. In the heart it is love—on the lips it is praise-in the life it is holiness. It makes the heart an altar-the lips a censer the life a sacrifice, of thanksgiving-and when heart, lips, and life, are thus harmoniously combined to show forth the praise of God, the whole man becomes like a well-tuned instrumentconsecrated in the service of the sanctuary-from which the hand of the Eternal Spirit is continually drawing forth the sweetest melody, pleasing even to the ear of God. And I would affectionately say to you, believer, whenever you find that sin or sorrow has untuned the instrument, oh! take it to the foot of Calvary's cross; and surely, in answer to your prayers and tears, the Spirit of God will once more tune it there, to sing the sweetest song of praise you can hope to sing, till you join that multitude before the throne, that no man could number-whom the beloved disciple, wrapt in the apocalyptic vision, beheld, " clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands, singing, as with one heart and voice, that new song, which will be sung with increasing rapture, as ages roll on throughout heaven's eternity of praise, (and oh! may every voice in this assembly take part in that song for ever!) "worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing;

blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne-and unto the Lamb, for ever, and ever! Hallelujah! Amen! Amen!"

SERMON XX.

THE CHRISTIAN'S RELEASE.

LUKE, ii. 29.

"Lord! now lettest Thou thy servant depart in peace."

THERE is perhaps no criterion by which the children of the world may be more unequivocally distinguished from the children of God, than by the entirely different aspect which death wears, to the one class and to the other. By the former, it is uniformly regarded as the direst enemy-by the latter, as a welcome friend. By the former, as a violent wrenching from a well-known and longloved world, to which they cling to the last moment with a dying grasp; and a fearful plunging into an unknown and dreaded eternity, from which they shrink back with horror and dismay. By the latter, as a peaceful departure from a clouded and

chequered scene of trial and vexation, from which their affections have been gradually and graciously weaned; and a joyful entrance upon a scene of unclouded brightness and unmingled bliss, to which they have been long looking forward, with the most ardent desires, and delightful anticipations, of the sweet, holy, everlasting rest which remaineth for the people of God.

How beautifully descriptive are the words of the text, of those feelings with which a servant of God contemplates death, under this attractive aspect of a gracious permission from His Heavenly Master, to exchange the wearisome toils of earth for the soulsatisfying rest of heaven! They breathe the language of one, who had been for years looking and longing for the hour to come, when he would be permitted to depart in peace-when he would receive the welcome intimation that his work was done and that his gracious Master had now sent him a kind discharge from his laborious employment, in which, though the consideration that he was engaged in the service of the best, the most beloved of Masters, often made its heaviest hardships feel light, and its severest sufferings seem sweet, still, from the crushing pressure of infirmity and weakness, (however mercifully sustained,) and the agonizing consciousness of unfaithfulness and neglect, (however graciously forgiven,) the servant, who gratefully loves such a Master, cannot but rejoice that the time of

his dismissal from the painful conflict has arrived— and that he will now be admitted into his dear Master's presence, in a world where he will be enabled to serve Him, even as he would above all things desire and delight to do; with an ardor of affection, a fervour of zeal, a fidelity of devotedness, and an energy of exertion, that will never, for one moment throughout eternity, slumber or sleep.

Such is the light in which the believer loves to look on death; and looking on it in this light, never did the soldier, wearied and worn with a long and arduous conflict, receive with more joy his honorable dismissal, when his warfare was accomplished—never did the mariner, tempest-tossed on many a stormy sea, behold with more thankfulness the long wished-for haven of peace-never did the exile, for years parted from his family and friends, catch with more gladness and gratitude the first glimpse of his own loved land, his own dear and long-desired home, than the believer feels when he sees the messenger of death, coming on his errand of mercy from the Saviour that he loves, kindly sent to release him from the struggles and sufferings of his conflict on earth, and to admit him to enter into the joy of his Lord in heaven. It is not that the Christian is a stoic, and does not feel acutely the snapping and severing asunder of those strong, sweet ties of love, that have linked him to earth!