religion and of God's honor, when you have nothing of them but the name? In short, is not your reverence for God, your sense of religious obligation, affected by the changes of the age, and the character of your contemporaries? Are you "on the Lord's side," even if you stand alone?

My friends, this subject of sincerity is of infinite importance to us. It is the foundation, the grand preliminary, of a religious character. It is indispensable to the acceptance of any of our services. Without it, our religion is our condemnation, our observances and rites are the records. of our sin. Without this, it is impossible to have any satisfaction in duty; religion will be our burden, God our terror, our consciences our stings, and death will overwhelm us with inconceivable dismay. With this only can we

CC assure our hearts before God. For, if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things. But, beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God."

My Christian friends, especially you who are now to sit down at the table of the Lord, "grace be with you who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity." This, this is that wedding garment without which you cannot be welcome, without which, indeed, you cannot enjoy the feast. Your sincerity here you must test by the disposition with which you celebrate the Supper. Have you a sense of the reason for which it was instituted, and do you observe it because Christ has instituted it? Do not unworthy motives mingle with your conduct? Does this regard for Christ's authority pacify your minds, and give you a happy satisfaction in the discharge of this duty, which the opinion of the world does not interrupt? Do you cherish no secret inclination to dispense with the rite, or take to yourselves no peculiar

merit in the performance? Are you sensible of that goodness and greatness which you commemorate, and do you seek for those benefits, and no others, which this rite is calculated to give? Have you a sense of the mercy of God in the scheme of human redemption, and are you sincere in your dispositions of love toward your fellow-Christians? If so, come forward "in full assurance of faith;" "rejoicing in the testimony of your conscience, that, in simplicity and godly sincerity, and not with fleshly wisdom," you keep the feast. Draw near with a true heart, and without dissimulation.

SERMON XVI.

MARK V. 19.

GO HOME TO THY FRIENDS, AND TELL THEM HOW GREAT THINGS THE LORD HATH DONE FOR THEE.

THE poor man, to whom this was said, had been cured by Jesus of a most fearful disorder, and so affected was he with gratitude, that he instantly resolved to attach himself to his benefactor, and spend with him the remainder of his life. "No," said our Lord, "rather go home to thy family and friends in Decapolis, and tell them what great things God hath done for thee." We are told that he obeyed, and began to proclaim openly, in his native country, and among his domestic friends, the compassion and kindness of Jesus.

I wish, at this time, my friends, to call your attention not so much to our public advantages as to our private, personal, and social blessings. If we would awaken our sensibility to the innumerable blessings of our condition, we must not take too wide a range; we must limit our vision to some near and definite objects, lest, taking too extensive a survey, we should view everything indistinctly, and remember nothing with precision, in the boundlessness of God's benevolence.

There is a class of blessings, which, because we have so long enjoyed them, we are tempted to forget that we pos

sess, and to regard as the constant and immutable laws of our condition, rather than as favors no less extraordinary than they are unmerited; I mean the peculiar circumstances of our social and domestic life; circumstances to which no man can say that he has especially contributed, for they are the result of God's good providence, watching over former events and early habits, rather than of any foresight and judgment of our own. I am the more induced to make these the subject of our grateful review, because, from their silent, unobtrusive, and permanent nature, they are not apt, at any one time, to make a peculiarly forcible impression; and they are in danger of being overlooked, because they are so uniform and quiet, except by a mind tenderly and piously alive to the goodness of God. The truth is, that we are very much in the habit of keeping ourselves in ignorance of the real sources of our happiness. The unexpected events of life, and, much more, those on which we calculate, are far from being those which constitute its real enjoyment. Even events of public good-fortune, which call forth the most frequent and audible acknowledgments, are, really, not those which contribute most to our personal well-being; and much less do we depend, for our most valuable happiness, on what we call fortunate occurrences, or upon the multiplication of our public amusements, or the excitement, the novelty, the ecstasy, which we make so essential to our pleasures, and for which we are always looking out with impatience. It is not the number of the great, dazzling, affecting, and much talked of pleasures, which makes up the better part of our substantial happiness; but it is the delicate, unseen, quiet, and ordinary comforts of social and domestic life, for the loss of which, all, that the world has dignified with the name of pleasure, would

not compensate us. Let any man inquire, for a single day, what it is which has employed and satisfied him, and which really makes him love life, and he will find that the sources of his happiness lie within a very narrow compass. He will find that he depends almost entirely, on the agreeable circumstances which God has made to lie all around him, and which fill no place in the record of public events. Indeed, we may say of human happiness what Paul quotes for a more sacred purpose, "It is not hidden from thee; neither is it far off; it is not in heaven, that thou shouldst say, Who shall go up for us to heaven, and bring it unto us? neither is it beyond the sea, that thou shouldst say, Who shall go over the sea for us, and bring it unto us? but it is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart."

In the first place, there is an extraordinary degree of tranquillity and security always attending our social condition, which constitutes much of its value. Repose, it is true, is not always a blessing; certainly not where it is the repose of desolation, of insensibility, or the threatening stillness which precedes the whirlwind. But, where it is the result, as ours is, of peculiar habits and local circumstances, of which almost the whole world may be envious, and for which, at this moment, millions are praying, it deserves to be most gratefully acknowledged. It is this singular tranquillity, which gives to our external and intellectual advantages unspeakable worth. There are other countries, in which much more wealth is accumulated, but where the proprietor trembles, while he casts up his treasure, and grasps it the closer, not so much from avarice as fear. There are countries, where you may find more numerous refinements, society more intellectual, polished, and advanced; but where do you find minds so entirely at