tration, very different, indeed, from the mild and convincing influences of the Spirit formerly felt. Now the Spirit of God fights against him; as Madame Guyon strikingly remarks: "The sword of the Spirit and of Providence may be applied successively to every tie that binds him to the world. Property, health, friends, may fall before it. The inward fabric of hopes and joys, where self-love was nourished and pride had its nest, may be levelled with the dust. He may be smitten within, and withered without, and overwhelmed with the waters, and scathed, and blasted, and peeled to the very extreme of endurance, till he learns in this dreadful baptism" that it is an evil thing and a bitter to vex the Holy Spirit, and to rebel against him! But should all this prove profitless, the administration is again changed, and he is cut off in his sins,- he dies in his sins. Let eternity tell the rest. Observe, I do not say that all sinners are so dealt with, nor all who perish. "There are diversities of operations, and differences of administrations." One tree revives by pruning and becomes fruitful, or is killed in the process; another has its branches lopped off by the axe, or severed by the storm, and lives; while another dies of a similar injury; a fourth is girdled, in part or wholly, American fashion, lingers a while, outlives it, or dies in a season ; a fifth meets with no outward violence, but there is death at the root, or at the heart, and it gradually decays and dies; a sixth is prostrated by some sudden gust of wind, and perishes; a seventh is undermined by wind and weather, and falls at length; fire in the woods destroys the eighth; while a thunderbolt from heaven scathes or shatters to pieces a ninth. Do you understand me? These are only simple illustrations of the Spirit's different administrations. There is something of this sort constantly occurring to every resisting and impenitent sinner. But the Spirit of God often leaves a man's outward goods untouched, and works either life or death within. What the Lord said of the people before the flood has a fearful application to this day. "My SPIRIT shall not always strive with man."— Gen. 6: 3. Hear this, every one of you! It is not in hell men become finally impenitent. If we believed that, we might venture to preach a Roman Catholic purgatory. No, they are No, they are finally impenitent, without the possibility of a change for the better, before ever they go there; in this world is the full preparation for hell attained. That preparation comes gradually, but it comes at last. Winter approaches gradually, and so does night; and a tree dies gradually. All these have attendant signs. But a period comes when "winter reigns tremendous over the conquered year," and when night lies black on all the ground; and a point of time when the tree is actually dead, and all hope of reviving it by shower, or sunshine, or any other means, is gone forever; let it be cut down, for the longer it stands the worse it becomes ! It is thus sinners gradually approach "the sin unto death," for which we are not to pray.-1 John 5: 16. But the crisis comes; the sinner passes it, and his doom is sealed. Hearken, every procrastinating, spirit-resisting sinner among you, and venture another step hellward if you dare! "There is a time, we know not when, A point, we know not where, "There is a line, by us unseen, That crosses every path; You have heard of the death of that young man who died in his sins. Listen to the circumstances, and reflect: Upon the bed of his last sickness lay a young man. All that medicine could do had been done, but it was more and more evident he was drawing near to the confines of eternity. His weeping friends could not conceal their forebodings. But he knew it all,—that there was no hope of his life. The night of death, merely, was nothing in his estimation. It was the curtain of eternal night, which he felt enshrouding his departing spirit, that filled him with unutterable emotions. His conscience, too, was busy, auditing his last and long account with the Supreme Judge. He saw, as plainly as you see me, the hand of divine Justice closing the gates of heaven and opening the gates of hell. "Pale as a ghost sitting on a cloud" lay that young man. What was it that "wrapt the hour of gloom in ten-fold woe," and made death what Aristotle called it, "the terrible of terribles"? It was his repeated acts of rebellion against the Holy Spirit. With his soul upon his trembling lips he confessed it, "while grief beyond description grieved" around that dying bed; for his weeping friends were there, and an aged father, and the young lady to whom he was betrothed. But hear his sad confession : "In early days the Spirit strove And yet, I grieved that monitor away, He plead in vain, And 't were a boon I dare not crave "Say not the star of Bethlehem Shall glitter o'er the tomb ! On me his beams may never fall, "And now, farewell! dissevered Ye are weeping o'er the dust Of one who lives a fiend in hell. "The veil is drawn ; eternal truth I know my doom is sealed." I have not repeated those lines because of any excellency in the poetry, and they are not bettered by my imperfect memory, but for the solemn warning to you, sinners, which they contain. The young man died thus, and was buried. Whatever was his fate in eternity, he had a miserable death-bed. No one could doubt that the Spirit had often strove with him. It was his treatment to the Spirit, and his knowledge of the fact, that filled him with such fearful forebodings. What other death-bed can you expect, if you continue a similar resistance? Beware of suppressing the voice of your own consciences! "Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God." This heavenly Dove is still with you; weary him not—drive him not away from the ark of your souls! Have you faith, and repentance, and a desire to be saved? Then would I say to every such soul, "This is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." Jesus hath |