rating wall." It does so, by creating a delusive sense of impunity. It may do so, by introducing into the mind an express and even speculative undervaluation of the Divine mercies, admitted and cherished to do away the sense of guilt. It may at length do so (that is, harden the spirit), by bringing upon it, from the infliction of God himself, a judicial insensibility. But, conceive the state of a soul hardened under "the goodness of God!" No longer even a perception of his mercies, as such,—a fixed impenetrable ingratitude,—an established, habitual repellency to all his attractions, a cessation, nearly, of regret for not being at peace with him ;-the man's mind made up, as it were, just to seize and enjoy as much temporal good as God will permit him (not give him) during the remainder of the brief space of life, and leave all that is to follow to be as it may.

Above all things we should dread, and pray against, such a fatal consequence of "the goodness of God." And if there be, in any, a consciousness of any degree of it, no words are strong enough to express the alarm and earnestness that should be felt.

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Consider, in conclusion, how happily the sentiment of repentance" from a sense of "the goodness of God," mingles and harmonizes with all the noblest and most delightful sentiments of religion,-with gratitude, humility, holy reverence, and zeal,-and with the aspiration to a better life, where there shall be no more sir.

LECTURE XXXIV

THE BREVITY OF HUMAN LIFE CONTRASTED WITH THE PERMANENCE OF OBJECTS IN NATURE.

ECCLESIASTES i. 4.

"One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever.'

THIS place of our abode, or rather our sojourn, this Earth, has many things tending to beguile us out of reflection, to lull and sink us into unconcern. But, it has some things fitted to awaken us to thought and apprehension. This should, in all reason, be the effect of such circumstances, and facts, as force on our attention the contrast between the duration of the earth itself and that of our abode on it;-a duration, in the one instance, coming down from a vast remoteness of antiquity, and extending onward through unknown ages;-in the other instance, a duration nearly imperceptible, in the whole view of the lapse of time; like that of a bubble floating down upon a great stream. We repeat; things that serve to expose and verify the greatness of this contrast, ought to have an awakening effect. Especially when we consider, that there is no circumstance belonging to our sojourn on earth so interesting as-that we must leave it. And most directly related to our leaving it, is our speed in passing through it.

And there are many things to illustrate this comparison and force our thoughts upon it. History itself;—why is history, but because the generations of men are gone ? We want to know something of them, and to converse with

And history tells us of that has passed away,

them, as a former world of men. one generation, and of another, leaving not a living "rack behind." In a few hours of this retrospective contemplation, a whole age of the race is seen off the world; followed by another, and another. We may look till we are quite weary of the long succession— confounded by the rapidity of endless change, and almost mortified to see the race thus continually reduced to vanity and dust. And yet here remains the very same world; “the earth abideth for ever;" and what it retains of them all is just, literally, so much mould as their dissolved bodies have yielded a substance, however, which it contained before they existed.

It is obviously suggested here, that we have another illustration of the text in places of interment, that have been such for ages. The earliest of the generations that have terminated their earthly existence, are gone beyond memory or tradition. Of a subsequent, but still early period, you find some two or three half-obliterated monumental inscriptions; with them was contemporary a whole generation,-deposited there in their season, but totally forgotten and unknown. In greater number there are dates of a later generation, still far gone in the past. And so you come down at last to the recent grave and tomb.

But the fields, the hills, the streams around are the same. The sun shines on the spot,-the shadows of the clouds pass, the rains and snows fall,-the grass and plants grow, -the same. And also living men, young and old, are seen, on a fine sabbath morning, walking about, or standing in social parties, or leaning, in perfect unconcern perhaps, against the monumental stones,-just thus it was in the former ages. It is very striking to observe this last circumstance (especially in some rural burying ground) and to think that these, (many of them probably the

descendants of those mouldering under their feet,) that these are the "generation” next to "pass away." The time approaches when they also will be gone; and still the world of Nature will remain the same, not united with their doom,-not sympathetic with their declining their sickness-their growing old—their dying.

But not only the abodes of the dead,-those of the living also may yield illustration of the contrast, those of them which were built in a former age; or, take them collectively, in a village, town, or city; as this city. How many successions of the inhabitants, since it became a populous city! Would it be an extravagant conjecture that seven or eight times as many persons have died in it, as are at this hour living in it? We are setting out of view, in the calculation, the circumstance that many of the houses have perished and been replaced by new ones. We take it in the mass, as if it were one great abode. But think, now, of the whole population having been so many times changed! It requires thought; because the change, being gradual, is at no one time presented in its full magnitude. Were it in the nature of things, that there should be, at one grand sweep, the removal of so vast a number, repeated at the average period of an age of man, the event, and the succession of such events, would have an overwhelming awfulness. But what is in effect equal to this, takes place, and but feebly excites attention. But think, sometimes, when you traverse the city, how many entire generations have walked along some of those streets. Or look over it from one of the neighbouring eminences, and think of the difference between the scene of all its busy crowd, and of that mightier multitude of which not one being now mingles with that crowd! But the hill is the same, the general landscape the same; "the earth abideth for ever!"

These are some of the more general, and broadly obvious exemplifications of the fact noted in the text. We hope it will not be deemed fanciful, if we should pursue the illustration through some more particular and minute matters of observation.

There may be many things incidentally suggesting themselves to reflecting minds, that will strongly enforce the consideration of the brevity of life, as contrasted with the permanence of the scene in which it is passed. Reflections of this character may occur under occasional and transient states of feeling,-excited at one time by objects that would not excite them at another. But we should think it must have happened to many, or to most men, to have this reflection excited at the view of some object or other,"How much longer this has been-or shall be— than Ior any now living man."

This recently occurred to myself,* very forcibly, in observing some projections of rock, at the basis of a preci pice by the sea,-alternately washed and left by the tide. These objects had been noticed in a former season, (perhaps without the reflection occurring, though so natural a one ;) their appearance was exactly the same-and the thought suggested itself;-"How many ages the ocean has fretted and foamed against these blocks-how many ages before any person now living was here to observe them. Here in this perpetual encounter with the mighty element, they have remained with little alteration-and nearly thus will remain for centuries to come ;-but where will the present spectator be? In comparison with this, what a brevity of duration is that allotted to our mortal existence!"

On the shore at the Haven I caught a subject for a lecture, which was one of the most out of the common track that I have made.-"The brevity of life, as indicated and contrasted by the permanence of objects in Nature."-Mr. Foster to the Rev. Josiah Hill, Nov. 1, 1823.