cious error of bringing down the standard of the sanctuary to the scanty measures of human theory. Persons who support such schemes never come to the scriptures to learn with simple and teachable understanding the mind of the Spirit, but like those whose vision is imperfect and who need the help of spectacles to read the letter of the word, these persons bring their systems in their pockets to aid them in discovering the purpose of Him, who as if to mock the observations of human wisdom hath said, "who directed the Spirit of the Lord ? or being his counsellor, who hath instructed him? &c." "Without doubt spiritualizing will boldly affirm that the prediction which Ezekiel addresses to the mountains of Israel, contains nothing about their return to their own land--as the Papists maintain that after the consecration of the wafer, nothing of the real substance remains, but is really and substantially transubstantiated into the body of Christ, although they cannot deny that the outward appearance continues to be that of a wafer. So these persons taking a bold flight in allegory will tell us that the mountains, hills, rivers, valleys, desolate wastes, and cities of Israel in this prophecy, are by no means to be interpreted in a literal sense, but are to be understood of the Christian church among the gentiles; and that the return of the children of Israel to those places only means their conversion to Christ." Now by what argument are we to assail those who thus twist and pervert the word of God? Assuredly to reason with them would be a loss of time and pains, because our arguments cannot be plainer than those promises to Israel which we charge them with turning aside from the plain meaning of scripture, which unequivocally declare to us the unchangeable purpose of God with regard to his people Israel, is not only to

graft them again into their own Olive tree, but also to "plant them in their own land with his whole heart, and with his whole soul, whence they shall no more be plucked up.”

We shall therefore close this paper with remarking that they who, under the notion of spiritualizing the word of God, set up their own crude and jejune systems in opposition to that Word, are in reality under the spirit of unbelief; and instead of reasoning with them, we may address to them the words spoken on another occasion: "O slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken." "Hath God said, and shall he not do?"

THE MAN OF GOD WISER THAN THE MAN OF THE WORLD:

A SERMON

HEB. xi. 10.—For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.

To contemplate the future, to weigh well the result of action, and to make preparation for approaching scenes, has ever been held a mark of wisdom and prudence. Though the human mind is, from its very nature, frequently directed to the future, and though a regard to futurity influences more or less every rational individual of the human family, yet their views of men respecting it are various, and widely different. The foolish man thought of the future, but it was a contracted thought, a narrow view, a most imperfect survey: he built his house on the sand. Far more consistent and true were the views of the wise man. He anticipated not only the sunshine and the calm, but the raging wind, the storms and the flood: his house was founded on a rock.

Mankind, as it regards the chief objects of their pursuit and their views of futurity, may be divided into two great classes. The first,

and, I fear, at present the most numerous class, are those whose hopes and expectations are directed towards objects that are included within the narrow bounds which circumscribe this transient life. The good which they most ardently desire, is to be derived from the things of time and sense. The other class are those whose prospect is more enlarged, whose views are extended farther, even beyond the Jordan of death. In short, they are those who look for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God. To this class belonged the patriarch Abraham; for of him the assertion in the text is made: he looked for a city; of this class have been the faithful and obedient servants of God in all the past ages of the world; and in the present day, all who love the truth and obey the divine precepts of that religion which brings life and immortality to light, belong also to this class. For they all look for a city which hath foundations whose builder and maker is God; that is, they expect another, more permanent, and happier state of existence, upon which they hope to enter at the close of their earthly pilgrimage; a state of happiness prepared by God himself for all such as shall be found worthy to inherit it.

Permit me on this occasion, my hearers, to direct your attention for a few moments to the excellency of those solid enjoyments for which Abraham looked, and to their vast superiority over the vain, transient, and unsatisfying joys of the world. And, while the faithful are thus encouraged to go on their way rejoicing, O that God, who can make the feeblest means effectual, would open the eyes of some one, nay of many deluded sinners in this assembly, that they may turn from their vain wanderings, and enter upon that way, which leads to a city that hath foundations. In all our possessions and enjoy

ments, a chief requisite is durability. This fixes the value and determines the excellence of things. It is durability, that marks the dif ference between a diamond and a bauble; it is this that distinguishes a reality from a fiction, the demonstrable truths of reason from the delusions of fancy. It is this qual ity that gives weight and efficacy to all other qualities, whether good or bad. Evil, if it be but momentary, is but little to be dreaded; and good, if it be the good of a moment only scarcely deserves our care. It is duration that gives to misery its pangs and to happiness its delights; this makes a hell of hell, a heaven of heaven. The wise and prudent of the world, therefore, whenever they would appreciate the value or weigh the importance of things, have ever been governed by this excellent criterion. And mankind in general are more or less inflenced by this principle as they are more or less subject to the dictates of right reason. But while reason thus concurs with that wisdom which is from above, and declares that substantial good alone is to be prized, it is exceedingly puzzled and finally baffled in its endeavours to find that good: it knows not where to seek nor how to obtain, that permanent happiness which itself approves and with which it would be satisfied. The miser seeks it in one way, the voluptuary, in another, and the ambitious man in another; but it eludes the grasp of all. Equally does it avoid the lank form of careful parsimony, the thoughtful brow of the deep judging statesman, and the pale visage of the votary of science. But were there no disappointment in the pursuit, could the phantom-form that dances in the eye of the pursuer be obtained, and the desired object be held in undisputed and unmolested possession, satiated but not satisfied, how soon would the resistless soul be in pursuit of another object; and

could that other be obtained, how soon should we hear him say this also is vanity! Nay could he obtain all that his wandering imagination could devise, or his wayward af fections covet, yet would he at last exclaim, "all is vanity and vexation of spirit.' And the reason is, the human soul was not designed to be satisfied with temporal and visible things; it was created for a nobler end. An attentive observer of human nature may readily perceive, that the desires and passions that agitate the breast of man are allied to infinitude; that they are in their nature boundless. He may perceive that the human soul is what the word of God represents it to be, an immortal spirit, groping in darkness and under the influence of evil principles, by which it is induced to seek its happiness in objects which are not adapted to its nature, nor at all calculated to satisfy its desires. This general uneasiness and discontent, which so deeply marks the character of man, affords a strong presumptive testimony that he is destined for a future state of existence. The All-wise Creator has not endued any species of the brute creation with a single faculty or quality but for some definite purpose. Every member has its proper office, every sense its peculiar object. Not a passion is given in vain, not a desire agitates the breast but an object may be found that is calculated to satisfy that desire. Each species has a constitution nicely adapted to its own peculiar climate, where it will live and flourish in content. Man inhabits all climates, but he is content in none. He is endued with faculties whereby he can accommodate himself to all the varieties of temperature, and subsist in every region of the globe, but in all he is uneasy: he pines in all. He sighs for something which earth cannot afford. Place before him at once the varied productions and congregated stores of every clime; it is not

enough. Boundless ambition, immortal hopes, unlimited desires! these are not to be satisfied with terrestrial things. When the ox shall bathe his tongue in blood and gorge himself with flesh, or when the tiger with carniverous tooth shall crop the herbage of the field, and be content therewith, then may an immortal spirit be content with the vanities of time.

But it is not merely the unsatisfying nature of earthly things, that renders the pursuit of them thus frivolous and vain. Were they permanent in their kind, and satisfying in their nature, yet how wretched would be the man who should set his affections on them. If happy in the possession, how could he bear the thought of a separation. The approach of death which is now sufficiently appalling, would be rendered doubly alarming; the king of terrors would appear clad in tenfold horrors. For frail and transient as are the objects of human pursuit, man himself is more frail than they. Yea, the slightest fabric may outlive the hand that reared it. How exceedingly vain then is the pursuit of earthly good! when not only disappointment in the pursuit, and dissatisfaction in the possession, but even the narrow limits prescribed to our present existence, forbid the idea of enjoyment.

But let us relieve the mind, wearied with contemplating vanities, by dwelling for a few moments on the consideration of real, permanent happiness. For there is a city that hath foundations, there is a good which he who seeks shall find, and he that finds shall enjoy, and enjoy forever. The gospel unfolds a treasure suited to the vast desires of the soul. the mind of man expatiate and expand in a congenial clime. Here are fruits adapted to its taste. No more will he sigh for the crude trash of time. For he that eateth of this bread shall never hunger for

Here may

other food, and he that drinketh of this water shall never thirst, but shall and within him a well of water springing up into eternal life. How wise then, and how rational the pursuit of these substantial joys, this permanent happiness.This heavenly course of God's people, or the Christian pilgrimage, is admirably typified in the story of the patriarch Abraham. He was called of God to leave his father's house, to quit the land of his nativity, and go in search of another country. The Christian also is called of God to relinquish objects, to which he is by nature most strongly attached, to give over the pursuit of happiness in the way, where he had fondly hoped to find it, and take quite a different course. Abraham went forth at the command of God, not knowing whither he went; the Christian also walks by faith and not by sight. Abraham was excited to obedience by God's promising to give him the land of Canaan for a possesion; the Christian rejoices in the "hope that is set before him," and trusts that ere long he will terminate his wearisome pilgrimage, and rest in the regions of the heavenly Canaan. Abraham sojourn ed in the land of promise as in a strange country, living in tabernacles; the Christian considers that this is not his abiding place. Abraham looked for a city which hath foundations, whose maker and builder is God; the follower of Christ looks for an enduring substance, and for a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

But should we for a moment compare the Christian course with that of the worldling, or with any one, whose chief happiness consists in things of this world, great indeed would be the contrast; Neither is exempt from troubles and care; both have trials, and crosses, and difficulties, to encounter; but the one labours for the meat that perisheth, the other for

a crown of immortal glory. The Christian, cheered by the hope that is set before him, rejoices in adversity; while the man of the world, terrified by the certainty of approaching death, grieves in prosperity. The one hopes, the other fears; one walks in light, the other gropes in darkness. Both are travellers, both journeying through a country of varied prospect, where they are continually bidding farewell to scenes which neither shall visit more; and both are hastening with equal celerity to an awful momentous point. But ah! how different the conditions under which they go; how very dissimilar the manner of their procedure. The one would fondly hope his journey might never end. He would fain banish from his mind everything that indicates his advancement towards the goal. He shuts his eyes and dreams that he is stationary. Thus wilfully blind as to his own real situation, he scrambles around, and endeavours to load himself with a thousand useless and hurtful encumbrances. To some objects he attaches himself so closely, that when by some unexpected jar they are suddenly wrested from him, his very heart bleeds under the separating stroke. And though warned by many a token whose import he cannot doubt, that he is approaching the end of his career, he heeds them not; and though faithfully admonished and tenderly advised by some fellow traveller to make preparation for that world to which he is hastening, he stops his ear, turns perhaps a scornful eye, and resolves within himself to drag to the very verge of eternity his load of worldly cares; there ar rested by the stern and irresistible mandate of death, he reluctantly lets go his grasp, and covered with confusion, and goaded with the keen stings of remorse, he passes the awful bourne.

But not so with the other. He considers himself, as he is, a stran

ger and sojourner here, having no abiding place. And though their way be sometimes rough and dangerous, yet he fixes an eye of faith on the mark that is set before him, and presses onward for the prize. He is not regardless of the objects around him; if a kind Providence permit, he can enjoy the good things of this life, but he does it with a reference to the life to come; he uses them as a wise and prudent traveller the conveniences of the way, not to retard his progress, but to enable him to prosecute his journey in safety and success. If he suffer the want of these things, yet is he not in despondency; he considers that his chief treasure is in heaven. The afflictions of this life serve to quicken his pace in the path of duty; they tend to wean him from the world, and fit him for heaven. Therefore he rejoices in tribulation; and the more as he sees the day approaching; and when the time of his departure is at hand, his faith is increased, his hopes are full of immortality; while with cheerful aspect he bids the world adieu, and enters into the joys of his Lord.

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is discarded by all, and reproached by the world. But strange to tell, these very reproaches are converted into blessings. They serve to rouse to vigilance at the very moment when he was most in danger. Had he heard their applauses instead of reproach, they would probably have lulled him into ignoble repose; he would have relaxed his vigour in the heavenly race, and would have been in great danger of turning again to the beggarly elements of the world. But now the world has no allurements for him ; he has nothing to expect from it but a repetition of injuries and wrong; therefore he girds up the loins of his mind, renounces anew the world and its vanities, fixes his eye on heaven, declares plainly that he seeks a country; that he looks for a city that hath foundations, whose maker and builder is God. Thus all things work together for his good.

But who is this man that discovers so much wisdom and prudence in the course of his life, and so much happiness at its close? What school, what sect of philosophy is he of? Ask the Stoic,-he disclaims him the Cynic,-he brands him with the epithet of wine bibber and gluttonous; while the Epicurians wonder that he goes not to the same excess of riot with themselves. Ask the sceptic, he will tell you that he is a fool, a mere dupe, because he exercises implicit faith in the Bible, believing it without sufficient proof, to be a revelation from God: while the modern man of reason and liberal sentiment will tell you, that he is a bigot; that his opinions are contracted and illiberal, and that he is far from having a correct idea of the great doctrines of the Bible. Thus he

To the votaries of worldly joys there is one consideration which above all others is most dreadfully appalling, viz. that of the shortness of their duration. No contemplation is so distressing as the thought that they must surely end. But dreadful and unwelcome as it is, it will frequently intrude itself upon them, maring their brightest scenes. In vain do they endeavour to guard against it. In spite of all their efforts it will haunt them still, repeating at intervals the sickening tale, which death shall verify. No rank or character is exempt. To the great and the noble it cries in terrifying accents, saying to the wealthy, Go to now ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that shall come upon you, your riches are corrupted, your gold and silver is cankered, and your garments are moth-eaten. It invades even the ear of majesty, saying to the trembling monarch," Thy king dom is departing from thee." is this voice unheeded; however some may affect to despise it, none

Nor