every weight, and the sin that doth easily beset" him. To the attainment of this one great end, all his plans are subservient-seeking first the kingdom of God. "By patient continuance in well doing," he seeks "for glory, and honor, and immortality." Though, like the wanderings of the Israelites in the desert, bis course, at times, seems retrograde, yet on the whole, he advances towards "the inheritance of the saints in light."

"Cheerful they walk with growing strength,

Till all shall meet in heaven at length,

Till all before thy face appear,

And join in nobler worship there."

2. Christians desire others, and especially their kindred, to journey with them. "Come thou with us" is the language of their hearts. The common sympathies of our natures alone, would awaken such desires, and much more, the love of God shed abroad in the heart.

But more particularly-they desire

In the first place, that God may be glorified. In this the true Christian chiefly delights. He rejoices in hope of the glory of God. In the conviction and conversion of sinners, God is glorified, both actively and passively. When the news of his conversion reached the ears of the disciples, Paul says, "They glorified God in me." When Peter related the story of the conversion of Cornelius and his household, in the ears of the church, "they glorified God, saying, then hath God also to the gentiles granted repentance unto life." The Psalmist said, "O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to

the children of men."

"O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together." His heart was also deeply affected in view of the dishonor cast upon God, by thoughtless sinners around him. “I beheld the transgressors and was grieved.”

Again. Christians have a tender regard for the welfare of their unconverted friends.

They see them eager in the pursuit of happiness in paths of disappointment. The pleasures of sense and of sin are but for a season,-unsatisfying, and often attended, and always followed by regret, and the goadings of a guilty conscience. "Even in laughter, the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heaviness." The Christian knows from experience the vanity of the world. We have often heard his testimony in language like the following.

"I try'd each earthly charm,
In pleasure's haunts I stray'd,

I sought its soothing balm,

I asked the world its aid;

But ah! no balm it had

To heal a wounded breast;

And I, forlorn and sad,

Must seek another rest."

Sorrow and disappointment, pain and death are the common lot of all; and the hope of the Christian is needful to bear up our spirits under the evils that await us. Poor, indeed, must he be, who has no better portion than this world. With what mingled emotions of pity and grief, does the good man behold his fellow mortal, eagerly pursuing the phantom of pleasure, heedless of the crown of life, suspended within his reach. What a pity that so few should follow the ex

ample of Moses, who, "when he was come to years, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter; choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." Again-Christians foresee the misery that is coming upon their unconverted friends.

If they cannot be persuaded to leave all their sins, and journey with them, they must linger and be lost. The language of queen Esther expresses their feelings. "How can I endure to see the evil that shall come upon my people? Or how can I endure to see the destruction of my kindred." The language of Paul is

also in point. "I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart, for my brethren, my kindred according to the flesh." Notice also, the feelings expressed by the compassionate Saviour, when he beheld the devoted city and wept over it. And

"Did Christ o'er sinners weep,
And shall our tears be dry?"

Again-Christians desire the company of their friends in their pilgrimage.

The Israelites had to encounter the dangers of the wilderness, and Moses pleaded for friendly aid. He said, "Leave us not, I pray thee, forasmuch as thou knowest how we are to encamp in the wilderness, and thou mayest be to us instead of eyes." The difficulties and dangers which beset the Christian pilgrim in his pathway to heaven, are many, and often unseen and unexpected. The company and counsel of fellow travelers is mutually beneficial, and always desirable. Travelers to the same country, will inquire for each other-will lay their plans to walk in company, and

agree mutually to assist each other on the way. "Two are better than one; for they have a good reward for their labor; for if they fall, the one shall help up his fellow; but woe to him that is alone when he falleth, for he hath not another to help him up.” For this reason, pious children will desire the company of their parents-parents, the company of their children-husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, the company of each other. Friends who have long been companions in sin might be mutually helpful in returning to God.

I observe

3. That to those whom they cannot persuade to accompany them, they must give the parting hand. Having tried every method which love and friendship dictate, if they do not succeed, they must not tarry-they must go and leave them.

My dear hearers, is there nothing in this congrega. tion which resembles the scene which has been described? If there is in reality a revival of religion in this place, and if there are those who are not subjects of divine grace, it is even so. How solemn the separation! How affecting, as it respects this world! How unutterably momentous as it respects the world to come! When one and another has been led to inquire, "What must I do to be saved?" and begun to "rejoice in hope of the glory of God," intimate friends, observing the change, have sometimes felt a mournful sadness stealing over their minds. "I have ost my friend. We have long been intimate-have visited and sported together often in days that are past;—but these scenes are over and gone forever. My friend has now left me to wander alone-gone to

seek a better country. Well, my sober judgment and conscience tell me that he is wise-that he will never lament his choice. "Let me die the death of the righteous." "But what shall I do? A solemn sadness fills my mind, and scarcely can I repress the falling tear at such a parting."

When our friends leave us, and remove only to a distant country, never more expecting to return, how solemn is the hour of separation. It awakens the tenderest feelings of the heart. But, my hearers, such a parting is but a faint emblem of what, in reality, is now transpiring among us. Did you never look forward with deep concern to the separations of the last great day? Have you ever thought of different members of the same family, standing one on the right hand, and the other on the left of the judge? And did you not feel a solemn dread, lest perhaps, you should be found on the left hand? That awful separation, which determines the eternal destiny of every soul, takes place first in our world. It is now taking place in this revival-in this assembly. That change of heart which is necessary to fit the sinner for heaven, must take place on earth, in this life, or never. And a change of heart among sinners now, will, of course, produce a change of views, and feelings and pursuits, which will end in a separation of intimate friends. At such a season, many who feel little or no concern for their own souls, are wont to complain of being neglected by their former friends, who have become the subjects of divine grace. They imagine that those who have embraced the gospel, have ceased to love them.

Let me tell you, they do not love you less, but they