SERMON XV.

AUTUMN A PICTURE OF HUMAN LIFE.

GREAT and striking, my Christian hearers, is the variety of human opinions respecting the real signification and worth of the life of man; and the human character displays itself in the manner and light, in which life is accustomed to be viewed. It commonly never enters into the mind of an inconsiderate, thoughtless person, to propose the serious question, whether this life possesses any value, and what should be its aim? Yielding to the impulse of the present, absorbed in trifling cares, enchained by the diversions of the world, he fancies he adopts the best method, when he leaves his resolutions and actions to be determined by the moment; he will not be reminded of the future portion of his life, nor of the connexion of the whole, he will not be disturbed in his ease, nor torn from the slumber of his idleness. The worldly wise man, instructed by certain experience, but ruled by an earthly propen

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sity, by some passion or other, strikes out for himself a plan of life, contemplates it frequently in all its parts, and fixes a value on it. But his contrivances and exertions are directed to what is vain and transient; the more plentifully the fountain of sensual enjoyment flows, the more the world offers him of its treasures, the more willingly all things near and around him accord with his ambitious plans and projects, so much the higher he estimates the worth of life, but any thing sublime and great in existence he has no idea of. The abandoned wretch, tortured by the consciousness of evil deeds, or the discontented and sorrowing being, who cannot raise himself with genuine religious disposition above the disappointments and woes of earth, despises life as a vain labour, as an illusory phantom, as an inconsequential exertion, as a burden which weighs one down from the cradle to the grave. Shall this be our view, my hearers, who call ourselves the redeemed of Jesus and enlightened by his Spirit? Or is it Christian duty and Christian sentiment, with all our sense of the imperfections of this mortal life, nevertheless, to embrace it with an affection, a cheerfulness, a regard, which is grounded on a true and worthy conception of its value, and its sacred destination for eternity? We assuredly know, as Christians, how we ought to contemplate life, for he himself, the "Founder and Finisher of our faith," has brought to light the true life that

fadeth not away. But we are also at all times, and in all places, reminded and strongly urged by manifold appearances and changes around us firmly to maintain a wise and refined, a pious and Christian view of human life. For certainly the earthly creation around and before us, like a temple of God, is open to us, not merely that we should with sincere joy perceive the beauty of nature; not merely that we should feed the eye with the sight of its moving life, its varying forms, its nameless magnificence; we should also perceive the voice of the Eternal, as it resounds, holy and awful, in the temple of nature; we should with a collected mind behold what is invisible in that which is visible. Serious and important is the aspect of nature, if we regard the spirit which its works reveal, the connexion which, out of individual forms and appearances of the exterior world, composes a wonderful whole, and the instructions, hopes, and feelings, with which the creation of the Eternal illumines and penetrates the inquiring mind. In its everlasting order the life of man, in its highest signification, is represented. And now the fleeting course of the year invites us to a grave, an affecting, an elevating, to a truly Christian contemplation of our life. For, in fact, my hearers, the renewed impression which the falling leaf, the fading splendour of the flowers, the desolate field, the diminishing light of day, the sight of fruits, which here are collected

to us.

in rich abundance, and there are advancing to maturity; the impression which all this makes upon the mind, is not the only and highest consideration, which nature in its autumnal dress should present Autumn points to something spiritual and invisible in this fading away and departing, in this ripening and growing to maturity, in this wonderful mixture of death and life. It teaches us, in significant images, so to contemplate the life of earth, as a Christian must contemplate it. Let us observe them more closely; and do thou thyself enlighten us, Lord of our life, that we may comprehend and keep the serious language of nature, thy word, O Infinite, in thy creation.

1 PETER i. 24, 25.

For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth and the flower thereof falleth away: But the word of the Lord endureth for ever : And this is the word which by the Gospel is preached unto you.

THE grass withereth, the flower fadeth! This observation we also make, when we see the moving, flourishing life of nature gradually disappear. And can we see this life disappear, without thinking of the transitoriness of every thing earthly, without melancholy and serious, but at the same time highly

elevating, contemplations on the dignity, the course, and the end of the life of man? May then the autumn, as an instructive picture of terrestrial life, now occupy our attention!

First. Transient and fleeting is earthly existence, its outward charms vanish, and a limit is placed to its duration; this is the first thing, of which nature in its autumnal garment admonishes us. The spring adorns our earth with a thousand various charms, and the warm summer matures the magnificence, the life, and the richness of nature. A bright variety of colours is unfolded to the eye, the blooming tree scatters fragrance around, the seeds are clothed in youthful green, the flower glitters in its gay hues, and speaks to us the expressive words of the Redeemer, "I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these "." The young grain shoots joyously up, the Lord gives growth and increase, the ears are richly filled, a hopeful life waves in all the fields. After the hours, in which night veils us with its shades, the great day-star breaks forth in his sea of flame, lights up the beauties of waking nature, sends an animating warmth into the creation; and, late in the evening, when every labour of the day is finished, and all things hasten into the arms of refreshing sleep, completes his course. In every place to which the eye is

a Matt. vi. 29.