kept, which God's people are to have "for mourning." And here, we trust, when we are assembled "in his name," he, Immanuel, is "in the midst of us," who furnishes from the wardrobe of heaven "the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." Are you, then, bereaved or afflicted? Fail not to seek your Maker in the house which he hath chosen "to place his name there." "Go into his tabernacle, and fall low on your knees before his footstool." Humble yourselves in his sight, under his heavy hand. Pour out your griefs before him, and beseech him to speak peace to your perturbated bosoms. Trust me, he is a “refuge in distress, a present help in the needful time of trouble." David went into his sanctuary and was strengthened. And his God is your God; powerful as a comforter, at whose word the gloomy clouds of sorrow will vanish, and the impetuous tossings of your hearts be still.

The subject we have contemplated, though singularly appropriate to those whom Providence has bereaved of their children, is to us all both a picture and an encomium of resignation. In vain do we afflict our souls for any of the dead. We cannot "bring them back again." But we have duties to discharge while we are continued here, and religion holds out to us the hope that we shall find them again, when our probation is accomplished. We "shall go to them!" We "shall go to them!" Blessed assurance, in this region of mortality! The tender parent, whose breasts have nourished and whose prayers have blessed us, slumbers in the dust. The lovely child, whose life and qualities were just expanding to view, is cropped by an untimely blast. The friend of our bosoms, who was dear to us as our own souls, is gone, irrecoverably gone, to that "bourn whence no traveller returns." We think with sadness that they once were. We sigh with anguish that they will be here no more. But we "shall go to them." to them." We shall lie down in the grave together, and our ashes will be mingled with theirs. In the morning of the resurrection we shall awake with them. Before the throne of the Lamb we shall appear together. If we have been as little children, we shall enter with them into the kingdom of

heaven, where there shall be no more sorrow, separation, nor death; "and God shall wipe away all tears from every eye." Surely, my friends, if this were delusion, it were a delusion to be prized above all truth. But when we have it assured to us, on the word of God,--when we have it confirmed, by the testimony of Jesus,--when we see the heathen sage, the Jewish patriarch, and the Christian apostle, entertaining the same hope, it ought to produce in us, under all the dispensations of the Most High, a conduct emulous of David's excellence. "While the child,” the parent, or friend "is yet alive," it is becoming to fast and weep; "for who can tell whether God will be gracious, that they may live?" But is the will of the Almighty manifested? "Wherefore should we fast?" Rather let us correct the wishes which would oppose the providence of the Most High. "We cannot bring them back again." But it is given us by the revelation of God, to rejoice with the Psalmist in the consoling expectation that we "shall go to them, though they shall not return to us."

SERMON XXXIV.

A FUNERAL DISCOURSE.

PSALM, xxiii. 4.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”

THIS

HIS psalm is an eminently beautiful description of the happiness which awaits upon the servants of God. Its holy author seems to have composed it in one of the happiest moments of inspiration. Contemplating the constant and tender care of the Most High over those who love him, he breaks forth in the concise and affecting strain, "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want." Filled with a lively sense of the peace and joy, and delightful tranquillity, which the righteous find in the experience of his grace and the contemplation of his promises, he assumes the pencil of fancy, and sketches this soft and living picture of their bliss; "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters." But there was a stupendous act of divine goodness, which his mind rose to celebrate in his song, even that dispensation by which the world is reconciled to God, and men are enabled to walk acceptably before him; "He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake." Adverting now to his faithful mercy unto his servants of old, and reflecting upon his power and promise, to support the souls of the faithful in every emergency, until they come to the place of their rest, the enraptured Psalmist still vents the happy emotions of his bosom

in the triumphant and solacing words which I have selected for my text: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

Death is what human nature is prone to dread. Most men shrink, as long as they are able, from the entrance into "the valley of the shadow" of it. So frail is nature, "this pleasing conscious being" has so fascinating an influence over our affections; so dismal are the accompaniments, and so dark our notions of death, that it this often the case with the best, as well as the worst of mankind. The hardened Shimei, whom nothing could have awaited in this world but mortification and disgrace, crouched ignobly to the king, whom he had abused, that he might preserve his life; and the good Hezekiah, whom glory, and honour, and immortality awaited in a better world, when apprized by a prophet of approaching dissolution, "wept sore." This is an infirmity of our nature; in good men, a deplorable infirmity. But we may learn from the Psalmist, that there is an attainable freedom from it; and this freedom, who shall proclaim its value to beings who with unquestionable certainty are journeying to the tomb? Let us then consider what are the evils to be encountered in passing through "the valley of the shadow of death;" and observe, as we proceed, how well and sufficiently calculated, the instructions and comforts of religion are, to fortify the faithful against them. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

In the first place, the pains of death must be encountered by us; and these fill many minds with dismay. God has been pleased, notwithstanding the redemption of our race from utter destruction, to leave in the world demonstrations of their fall; and of his displeasure at iniquity, in the sorrows and anguish which accompany their mortality. We come into the world helpless and distressed, and we leave it conflicting with pain. Sickness, dying languor, the burning bosom, the aching temple, the wearied limbs, the agonizing convulsion, and the panting,

fluttering heart, these direful offspring of transgression, which surround the valley of dissolution, increase its terrors; and who can contemplate, without some anxious emotion, the dark idea of that shock, which shall dissolve the union of soul and body, and extinguish the vital flame! Under these, and whatever pains we may be called to encounter in the conflict with death, where shall the generality of mankind find support? Shall they have recourse to the hilarity of life? Ah! these are the hours in which they will "say of laughter, It is mad; and of mirth, What doeth it." Shall they betake themselves to philosophy? Alas! to but few of mankind does philosophy come, and of those few, she changes not the aspect of their suffering; she sheds no grace of heavenly meekness to consecrate their fortitude; but supports by hardening or by flattering the sufferer. Amidst the agonies of the vale of death, there is no unfeigned and adequate support for the generality of men, but that which is derived from the gospel of God. This originates the only true motive, and furnishes the only efficacious means of a sincere and steady composure; yea, of a reasonable triumph amidst the distresses which may attend dissolution. By that sublime influence which consecrates all the acts and events of life to moral purposes, it converts the sufferings of nature into occasions. of meekness, patience, and holy submission to the will of God.

It sets before us the animating example of the Redeemer, enduring without a murmur, the utmost agonies which death could inflict; and bids the Christian, with a voice that persuades while it bids, to imitate his Lord. It brings to us the aid and comfort of the Holy Spirit, through whose sacred influences, the departing good man is enabled in "patience to possess his soul," when his body is racked with the tortures of his condition. Conscious of the divine presence and favour, he bears with calmness the burden appointed him. Amidst his pains, there is heard the voice of heavenly consolation, "My Son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint, when thou art rebuked of him; for whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth." It is the voice of the Most