and gratitude to Him who gave them. But then he does not desire them as his portion. He continually looks beyond them. He travels on to heaven amidst a country smiling with verdure, still valuing his home as dearly, as if the scene around him were barren, and the road rough and painful.

The same principle also leads him rightly to estimate the disappointments and troubles of life. Shocks severe to nature are received by him, though not without emotion, yet without despair. When he mourns, it is not as one without hope. He has not lost his all, when he loses much.

However dreary and toilsome the journey, he refreshes himself by remembering the nearness of his home: with whatever opposition he meets, with whatever difficulties he struggles, under whatever embarassments he labours, his consolation is still that it is but for a little time; and that he shall soon be at home. "Shall I be dejected," he cries, "because in this journey of a day, the accommodations on the road are defective? Am I to despair, because the inn in which I lodge is uncomfortable? O rather let me hasten on my journey, and pursue my ultimate object with more eagerness: in this I shall suffer no disappointment. In heaven will be all the happiness my soul can desire. Gird thyself, then, O my soul; hold on thy way without being dispirited; yet a little while, and ample amends will be made for every suffering. In the mean time, therefore, let not my faith and my patience fail."

This view of the world also serves to give a just estimate of death.-To Christian pilgrims what is death? It is the end of their toilsome journey. They have arrived at home: they have reached their Father's house, and are received like children long expected and greatly desired. Should we repine that the fatigues of the journey are over, that the wearisome way which cost many an hour of suffering is now ended; that its difficulties, its pains, its dangers, are now surmounted? Is it a matter of grief that the weary tray

eller has entered into the rest he has so long desired; that the end, so long pursued, is attained; that the prayers so often made, are fully answered; that the fears, so often felt, are banished forever; that the hopes, so often the source of comfort, are now lost in a blessed reality? No! Death in this view is not a scene of terror, but the joyful entrance into bliss: not the extinction of all our pleasures, but the happy termination of every sorrow. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord; even so, saith the spirit, for they rest from their labours."

To conclude-Much, we see, depends upon the view we entertain of the nature of this life; much of our peace of mind, and still more of our religious progress. Hence, it appears, a worldly mind is far more incompatible with religion than is generally supposed. That it may be an obstacle to piety is commonly admitted; but, in fact, it is much more-it is its absolute destruction. Religion supposes a spirit and temper which cannot consist with a worldly or selfish principle. Hence also we learn the necessity of being principally solicitous for the welfare of our souls. Heaven is a home only to those whose dispositions and views are prepared for it. There must be something heavenly in the state of the temper and inclinations before its enjoyments can be desired. And, above all, there must be a knowledge and love of that blessed Redeemer who has purchased heaven for us, in order to make us meet for it. Let not the careless and indifferent; let not those who are "lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God;" let not the worldly, the selfish, the sensual, flatter themselves that heaven is their home. They deceive themselves, if they think so. They are of this world, and their nature must be renewed after the Divine image, before they can be admitted into that seat of purity and holiness.--Are we then numbered amongst those who are treading in the steps of Christ, following him as our pattern and guide, studying as his subjects, to be conformed to his will, purifying ourselves

even as he is pure? Never, till this is our true state, can we claim a portion with those for whom he has provided mansions of glory in the world above. Seeing that there remaineth a rest for the people of God, and that we have the promise of entering into that rest, let us constantly entertain a holy fear lest any of us should seem to come short of it; for we are made partakers of Christ, if we "hold the beginning of our confidence stedfast to the end."

SERMON XXH.

ON FASTING.

PREACHED ON THE SUNDAY PRECEDING A PUBLIC FAST.

2 Chron. xx. 3.

And Jehoshaphat feared, and set himself to seek the Lord, and proclaimed a fast throughout all Judah.

AS there may probably be some persons amongst us, who have never understood the nature of fasting as a religious service, or even seriously inquired into its design and utility, I propose in this discourse to give as plain and full an account of it as I am able; answering, at the same time, the objections which may suggest themselves against its use.

A fast, then, may be defined to be a voluntary abstinence from food, as a token of our humiliation before God. Repentance, it is true, is seated in the heart. There may be deep repentance, where it is not manifested by any outward sign or expression:-and, on the contrary, there may be much of the outward marks of repentance, where there is no inward feeling; no real sorrow for sin, or strong desire to avoid it.

It may here, then, be asked, "Of what use is this outward sign? If we do not possess the repentance which it signifies, it is an act of mockery before God; and if we do, God who sees our hearts cannot need to be informed of their state by any external expression."

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