tuated will-these may continue so, through the ensuing spring and summer, forward to the next winter, and may resemble that winter more completely even than they resemble this; analogous to material nature in this one point, that the longer the cold continues, the more intense it will become. It would be a melancholy kind of observation and comparison for a man to make, as the spring commences and advances, to compare the brightening and lengthening days with his spiritual views and intelligence; -the evident progress, with his fixed and obdurate sameness; the opening blossoms with his religious emotions, desires, aspirations, resolutions; the prevailing warmth at length, and full character of life, with the habitual temper of his heart;—or finally, to observe the precious and ripened produce, but the case with himself answering to those words, "the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we— I-not saved!" All this may be; in numberless cases it will be. Shall it be so with us? But how else should it be, with the man that carelessly lets it all alone? What a glorious thing on the other hand, if we should escape from our winter of the soul by an equal progress with that by which external nature will certainly escape!

We might follow out the analogy to a wider extent, applying it to a state of a religious society;-of the great community of a nation,-of the general human race. It is enough just to suggest these applications. How glorious when the probable import of that prophecy shall be realized, "the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose !”

We will note but one more point of analogy which has already occurred to every one's thoughts, namely, the resemblance of winter to old age. The direct resemblances are too obvious to need illustration. We shall just only

name one or two. Those in the earlier seasons of life are sensible that they look on the aged as in life's winter. But

whether they are disposed to entertain a wicked contempt, or a benevolent respect, let them never forget that they too are to come to that winter, unless prematurely cut off. Those who are now aged were so admonished in their earlier seasons. The old age of the wise and good resembles the winter in one of its most favourable circumstances, that the former seasons improved have laid in a valuable store; and they have to bless God that disposed and enabled them to do so. But the most striking point in the comparison, after all, is one of unlikeness. Their winter has no spring to follow it—in this world. It is to close, not by an insensible progression into another season, but by a termination, absolute, abrupt, and final; a consideration which should shake and rouse the most inveterate insensibility of thoughtless old age. But the servants of God say, "That is well!" They would not make such a gradation into a spring of mortal existence, if it could be put in their choice. Their winter, they say, is quite the right time for a great transition. It was in nature's winter, (or towards that season) that their Lord came to the earth; it was in the winter that he died for their redemption; and the winter of their life is the right time for them to die that the redemption may be finished. And there is eternal spring before them! What will they not be contemplating of beauty and glory while those who have yet many years on earth are seeing returning springs and summers!

This may suggest a last observation that the gloomy circumstance of winter on our globe, points to the desirableness of an abode where there shall be nothing like winter; or of a mode of existence quite superior to all elemental evils. The theory of such a condition of existence we cannot distinctly form in our minds; but so much the better; for that would imply such a resemblance to the present economy, as one should be reluctant to admit. So

VOL. I.

much the better that "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart been able to conceive the things that God hath prepared."

December 19, 1822

LECTURE XXII.

THE END OF THE YEAR.

PSALM XC. 9.

We spend our years as a tale that is told.

THIS psalm being ascribed to Moses, its pensive strain may be deemed to have a particular reference to the condition of the Israelites in the sojourn in the wilderness, under the doom of consuming away their lives there. Nevertheless, this pensive strain has been felt in harmony with the sentiments of the most thoughtful persons ever since. No part of the ancient scriptures is less obsolete than this. It is a picture still true to nature. Human life, viewed generally, has not since brightened up into a scene of joy and triumph. The brief description of the state in paradise, is felt to belong to a departed and remote economy; that given in this psalm is instantly felt to be appropriate to the present condition of man. This representation applies itself and fastens close upon the real subject. The beautiful and splendid images brought from the beginning of our history, or shaped since by fine imagination, stand off into the air, from the reality; a fair vision, but no more attached to the actual substance than the beautiful clouds or the rainbow, will descend or permanently rest on the surface of the ground.

One circumstance of the description is,-"We spend our years as a tale that is told." This seems to express both a necessary fact, and a censure. The rapid consumption of our years, their speedy passing away, is

inevitable. But they may be spent also in a trifling manner, to little valuable purpose, which would complete the disconsolate reflection on them, by the addition of guilt and censure.

We have been consuming our years; we have very nearly expended another;-think how nearly it is gone from us! Yonder, as it were behind, is the long lapse of it. As if we stood by a stream bearing various things upon it away. We can look back to its successive times and incidents, as what we were present to. But Omnipotence cannot take us back to meet again its commencement, or any portion or circumstance of it. We are present, now, to one of its latest diminutive portions, which Omnipotence cannot withhold from following the departed. We are occupying it, breathing in it, thinking in it, for nearly the last time; little more of it is remaining than time enough for bidding it a solemn and reflective farewell! A few hours more, and the year can never be of the smallest further use to us, except in the way of reflection. And it is a serious thing to say that of any valuable thing included in our portion on earth; a thing that antecedently was of great direct value, -value for actual use,—now of none but for thought. For there is a great difference between the possible good from a valuable thing in possession, or that is to be in possession, -and the good that afterwards might be gained by merely thinking of it when it is gone. Suppose the case of a considerable amount of property that was possessed, or in a man's power, but is so no longer,-spent,-perhaps wasted or lost. Now, a man who can think wisely, may derive some good from it, even after it is gone. But, how different his situation from that of having it in his power, and with wisdom to use it well. So in the case of having lost by death a highly valuable and useful friend. Apply this to our case with respect to the departed year.