ried on, by an unseen hand we cannot control; the almighty guide who conducts us seems unwilling that should stay; the God of our spirits who goes with us, designs we should have our settled dwelling in eternity; and soon he will bring us to the gates of the city, and at the bidding we can not resist, must we take our leave of it for eternity. Around us, every thing is betokening his design of our departure, and our inability to prolong our stay. The frail hold we take of every earthly possession tells that our grasp on none is for eternity. We are hurried from object to object, before we can call any thing ours. We meet friends; but while we cling to them, the unseen hand of providence tears us away from their embrace. Beauty we would linger here to admire; but while we look the grace of the fashion of it perisheth. Power just takes us by the hand, and bids us adieu to greet a successor. Fame crowns us with her wreath, but while we feel the rising flush of joy, she plucks it off to sport with others. Wealth comes to feast us and roll us in his car of pleasures; and while accepting his proposals, he dismisses us to tempt some other pilgrims on their way to eternity. The unseen hand of Providence, thus tears us away from object after object, to show that here is not our rest, and that our hold on earth is frail and giving way. Around the city of our habitation too, are the messengers he sends to warn us of our approaching departure. Decay stands, with tottering limbs and feeble breath, and lisps to us with dying life, that we draw nigh the gates of our habitation, and soon will leave it for eternal worlds. Diseases-busy messengers,-fly here and there, to tell us of our frail abode, and whisper in our ears, "eternity." Death, armed with resistless power, stands with his commissions and their unknown dates, to lead us out of our residence below, and bar on us its gates forever. Every where in the city of our abode are we reminded thus, that we have not the power to prolong our stay in it, and that soon we shall leave its privileges, its dwellings, its streets, its sanctuaries, its scriptures, its busy throng for eternity. 'Here have we no continuing city.' There is another means reminding us constantly of this fact, the voice of God the Saviour. In the city of our habitation below, God has published his glories, his statues, his offers of pardon and assistance, for our use as sojourners here who are passing to eternity. He, the infinite Being who is from everlasting to everlasting himself, has conferred on us an existence that is to continue, and grow up by the side of his, through everlasting ages. He has beheld us, in the first stages of our being here, engaged in unrighteous rebellion against his authority, and bent on neglect of his glories; and moved with pity, sent his everlasting Son to atone for our guilt and call us to repentance, and his Holy Spirit to indite his will and influence us to obedience.

In our habitation we have his word; here temples are erected for his service; a day is appointed by him for men to assemble; ministers commissioned to teach, and they who love his name, speak to one another and to their fellow-men of his designs. Wherever we go, then, the voice of God the Saviour is reaching us; and re-echoing the truth, that we are beings whose final dwelling is eternity, and who have here no continuing city. The bible, wherever it meets our eye, reiterates the voice of God, that we must die and rise again in other worlds. In each reproof of conscience, his awful voice is heard to speak a reckoning day in eternity. In each act we do for God or for his kingdom here, his voice of love whispers of eternal joys. Each revolving Sabbath, with its pealing bells, and open sanctuaries, and solemn rites, bears on its hours his voice, that warns of an abode in heaven or hell. Each sermon is the call he makes to hear his voice to-day. In each season of prayer, we hear him say, that we have not reached our home-that we are pilgrims here. From the throne of glory on which he will sit in judgment and assign us our dwellings in eternity, God the Saviour now sends down the voice of monition; and while it rolls around the world we dwell in, ten thousand messengers echo back the voice to our ears: that here we have no continuing city.'

II. But there are evidences that, in respect to a fact so momentous, and of which we are constantly reminded from so many quarters, there is in us great blindness.

One evidence of this is that we think so little of our depar ture. There is a train of thoughts in which our minds are constantly busy, and over which we have a guiding control. When we look back on this past employment of our minds, and see the vast train of our secret thoughts, where are those we have had respecting the brevity of our continuance on earth, and our approaching departure into eternity? Do they rise up to our memories in that thick array which testifies that we have lived sufficiently mindful of so important a reality? Do they not, rather, appear in such momentary glances of thought, at such distant intervals from each other, as to evince our blindness? Do the secret thoughts of our departure occupy that prominence in the train, as do the thoughts of those worldly trifles that meet us in the city of our habitation? And has not this been great blindness in us, when the monuments of past generations, the departure of surrounding companions, our progress, our frailty, yonder throne of God the Saviour, have been constantly visible, to excite in us the thoughts of eternity?

Another evidence of our great blindness to the fact, is, that we speak so little of our departure into eternity. We have been conversant with our fellow-men who have lived with us in the city of our habitation. We have met them in our streets and in

our dwellings, and many have been the words we have spoken, with them, that have been lodged in their memories. When we look back on the words we have spoken, where have been the allusions we have made to ours and their departure into eternity. or where the direct mention? We have alluded to many subjects, we have directly mentioned many in their hearing; and their memories can testify of us, whether, when walking or sitting with them, amidst the loud monitors of an eternity, we have given that prominence in our words, that we ought, to the hastening change in our habitation, or whether we have appeared blind to a change so momentous? Their memories may testify to our words of affection on many subjects-(oh, that they might not to words of deceit! to words of anger !)-but must they not, when they see the dearth of our allusions and mentions about an hereafter, testify in their consciences and in eternity that great was our blindness?

Another evidence of our great blindness to the fact, is, that we do so little respecting our approaching departure into eternity. There is much to be done in the city of our habitation here, before we leave it for eternity. Duties to ourselves, duties to our fellow-men, and duties to our God, claim of us a discharge while passing through our abode below. Acts of penitence, acts of faith, acts of obedience are to be done by us in our persons; acts of charity to the souls of our neighbours; acts of respect to God, before we are prepared to enter, with comfort, on eternity. What, then, have we done for our departure into eternity? Does the remembrance of the acts we have done while dwelling in our habitation below-a habitation crowded with mementos of eternity,--testify, that we have done what we ought, to prepare for our exchange of dwellings? or that we have been exceedingly blind to a change so great? Alas, we can testify to many acts that unfit us for departing! can we to any that prepare? Or if we have turned our eye to a better abode, and done any thing to prepare ourselves for it, have not our acts of preparation been feeble, and sparse, and proved exceeding blindness in us to eternity?

Another evidence of the fact, is, that we feel so little about departing from our present abode into eternity. We may have thought, and spoken, and acted, in the city of our habitation here, to some poor extent, with reference to an approaching eternity; but what has been the measure of feeling we have allowed ourselves to indulge on a subject so momentous. We have had intense feelings to expend on other subjects. The vanities, the pleasures, the vexations of our present abode, may have stirred all our souls within us to energy of feeling. Have we, while ten thousand voices have been proclaiming around us, 'eternity!' allowed ourselves to feel as intensely as we ought on a

reality so weighty? Or must not the past train of our feelings witness for us, that great has been our blindness? that while love has admitted the claims of other objects, it has here been cold; that while zeal has been active for other purposes, it has here grown weary; that while desire has been intense for other ends, it has here been wavering?

When we look, then, at what we have thought, what we have spoken, what we have done, what we have felt, in the city of our habitation below, amidst the constant monitions of an hereafter, we may see evidence that we have been almost as blind to eternity as though we were to have here our permanent dwelling. Impenitent sinners have closed their eyes that they will not see; and the followers of our Lord Jesus Christ have. been either sleeping, or in wakeful moments but seeing through a glass darkly.

III. But the fact, of which we have so many monitions and respecting which we have manifested such blindness, that 'here we have no continuing city,' nevertheless claims of us a prac tical attention; and the practical results we should derive from it, I will endeavor to illustrate in my closing rėmarks.

The fact, then, should influence us to adopt a settled rule of duty.

What is the object of our existence here and in eternity? What are the means of securing it? Have we any rule of safety for our guidance? Have we, in the gospel, the words of God? Shall we take it as our guide and our hope in the house of our pilgrimage? Or shall we reject it, and follow our own devices?

This practical question, the brevity of our abode below demands that we should firmly settle-and adopt, if worthy of it, the gospel as our settled rule, or prove it vain and take some other rule. We have no time to waste in doubts. We must not squander time in hesitation. We stand by the very gates of eternity. The gospel that now tenders to us its guidance in the steps of this pilgrimage, we shall soon leave, with the city of our habitation, and have a whole eternity to employ in looking back upon our conduct here. If the bible contain the words of God, we shall pass by his throne, on our way to our eternal dwelling; and these words, which Jesus gave us, shall judge us in that day of meeting God. If our Lord Jesus Christ has, by his divine power given us,' in this book, "all things which pertain to life and godliness"-then they who take not this gospel to sway their opinions and conduct here, will be found, in that day, "without the faith that pleases God" guilty of 'treading under foot the blood of the Son of God,' and will receive condemnation, and "go away into everlasting punishment:"-and they who do make it their influential rule, will, in

that day, 'cleansed from sin through sprinkling of the blood of Jesus,' unblameable in love through sanctification of the Spirit," receive the approving welcome of God, and "enter into life eternal.'

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Again the fact should influence us to moderation in the use we make of the present world. Our worldly enjoyments are designed only as accommodations for us on our way to eternity. The city of our habitation is furnished with them by God the Saviour, to sustain us and cheer us in his service, while distant from his habitation. We are surrounded on every hand, even now, while we are partaking of these joys, with the monitions of eternity; and soon shall we leave our abode below to part with them forever. How little ought we to make of its enjoyments who are so soon to leave them for eternity! Why attach ourselves immoderately to a habitation, erected to lodge us on our way to eternity? why draw away our hearts from our final dwelling? Why labor to strengthen ties so soon to be burst assunder? We are but increasing for ourselves the pangs of the parting struggle. We shall but bid adieu to our habitation with greater regret. While absorbed in time, we shall be but neglecting eternity. Eternity! how should it swallow up the comparatively trifling concerns of time, and make them all as nothing! This I say, brethren, the time is short it remaineth that both they that have wives, be as though they had none and they that weep, as though they wept not; and they that rejoice, as though they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that use this world as not abusing it for the fashion of this world passeth away.'

Again the brevity of our abode below should influence us to improve our passing privileges and opportunities. In the city of our residence in this world are we favored by God the Saviour with many privileges in regard to his service, and many opportunities of doing good to fellow-citizens who are advancing with us to eternity. These seasons of doing service for God are rapidly rolling over us, and soon, in our hasty advance to eternity, shall we pass by them all, and leave the city of our privileges forever. Each season as it meets us in our progress, invites us to the glorious work of God, then bids farewell, and bears to eternity the report of what we do and how we serve our King. Soon, on the shores of eternity, shall we look back on thes: privileges that met us when with fellow-pilgrims here we urged our onward way, and date form these years below, the era of our eternal joys or our unending woes. There, through the progress of eternal years, shall the privileges we are passing now be seen attesting those works whose influence follows us in songs we raise with fellow-heirs of glory, or curses mingled by us with angry spirits of despair. Now is our time, as privi