(1.) Those who are undecided about the truth or reality of religion at all, or of any system of religion. They embrace no system; they make no pretensions to any religion. They are lookers-on in the world, and observers of the various forms and systems of worship, professing liberality to all, and manifesting a preference for none. They are undetermined whether Christianity is preferable to infidelity; whether Protestantism is preferable to the Papacy; whether deism is preferable to atheism; and whether any form of paganism is not as safe as the purest form of Christianity. They are not decided whether the system which proclaims that all men will be saved is not as likely to be true as that which proclaims that "the wicked shall be turned into hell"; nor are they determined in their own minds whether it is not as well to depend on their own morality as to depend on the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ. They conform to any mode of worship only because it is the prevailing form, and for the same reason that they would have been Mussulmen at Mecca or Constantinople; worshippers of Confucius in China; followers of Zoroaster in Persia; or atheists in Paris, amidst the scenes of the French revolution.

(2.) A second class is composed of those who hesitate between Christianity and infidelity. On the one hand, there are all the happy effects which Christianity produces; and all the arguments from miracle and prophecy in its favor; and all the influences of education; all the convictions of conscience, and all the offers which it makes of an eternal heaven;-and on the other, there is all the force of the difficulties which are acknowledged to exist in the Bible; all the reluctance to embrace its great and incomprehensible mysteries; all the influence of pride of heart, and the love of fancied independence; all the power of corrupting passion, and the desire of indulgence in sin, prompting the individual to cast off the restraints of religion; all the love of the world; all the force of the fact that multitudes of the great, the rich, the scientific, are understood to have cast off Christianity, or to have doubts about its truth. And multitudes, therefore, are in a state of avowed or secret doubt, and are hesitating whether Christianity be true or false, and whe

ther they shall embrace that system, or some form of the almost infinite number of forms in which infidelity manifests itself in this land.

(3.) There are those, as a third class, who are awakened to see their guilt, and who are hesitating about giving up their hearts to God. They see that they are sinners. They know that they are exposed to the wrath of God. They have no doubt of the necessity and the importance of religion. They have no doubt of the truth of Christianity. They have long thought seriously on the subject; have often prayed and wept; and have often desired, as they supposed, to be Christians. Many of them have been trained in pious families, and in the Sabbath-school; and they have often, and long, and deeply felt that it was necessary for them to be born again. But they hesitate. There is the love of some sin which they are not willing to abandon; or there is the fear of shame, and the apprehension of derision; or there is a secret unwillingness to be saved by the mere mercy of God, and the merit of the Saviour; or there is a disposition to defer it to some future period; or there is deep absorption in the business of the world; or there are the allurements of youthful pleasures; or there is the withering influence of some infidel companion that ridicules the anxiety of the soul, and poisons the mind, and is the means of often grieving the Spirit of God.

(4.) A fourth class is made up of those who are constantly forming resolutions to attend to the subject of religion, and to become decided Christians. Probably most of those who are here to-day, who have travelled any considerable distance on the journey of life, can recollect many such resolutions seriously formed, and as often disregarded and broken.. They can recall many periods of their youth, when their minds were tender, and when they were almost resolved to be Christians; many periods in sickness or in other afflictions, when they proposed, and solemnly promised to God that they would live to his glory; many times under the preaching of the gospel, when they purposed to forsake their sins, and give themselves to God. But they are still undecided. Their vows, and purposes, and promises, are forgotten. Their love of the world is too strong for

them to forsake it yet, and they too much desire the indulgence of sin to abandon it, and live a life of piety. Notwithstanding all these resolutions, they are to-day as undecided as they were years ago, and perhaps during many years they have come no nearer to a decision.

(5.) A fifth class is made up of those who are undecided about making a profession of religion. That it is a duty they feel and admit; and it is a duty which they often purpose to perform. Yet one opportunity passes by after another, and they are not prepared; one communion occurs after another, and they still hesitate. There is the admission that it is a duty; there is a settled purpose to do it at some period of life; but there is, on the other hand, the fear of the world, or the love of some habit that could not be indulged in consistently with a profession of Christianity, or there is the plea that they are unworthy, or that they would not be able to adorn their profession; or there is the ever-ready plea-a plea, alas! answered with so much difficultythat many professors do little honor to their high calling. Thus life wears away. One communion season passes after another; and one year rolls on after another, and in the mean time there is no decision, nor is there any advance made towards a decision. Many an individual can look back over a dozen or a score of years, and find that during that period he has made no advance towards a decision; and some even on whom the snows of age have fallen, have been agitating this question during the better part of a century, and are now going down to the grave still halting between two opinions: In the mean time their name is with the world, and their combined example is the argument to which the wicked appeal, that men may be as good out of the church as in it, and that if such persons of known and established character, venerable by age, and respected for their virtues, are safe unconnected with the church, others may be also. And there is no art which Satan practices that evinces more skill and cunning than in retaining such persons on what is deemed neutral ground, and in preventing, by a thousand pleas, their giving their names and their influence to the cause of decided piety, and to God.

These are the persons whom I wish to address. I have classified them, in order that there may be no mistake as to who I mean; and to each class, and each individual, I wish to address some remarks, showing the unreasonableness of remaining in this condition, and urging them to an immediate decision-either one way or the other. This was my

II. SECOND OBJECT. Under this head, assuming mainly the form of direct address, I shall urge several considerations as reasons why a decision should be made without delay.

(1.) The first is, that our great interests, if we have any great interests, or any that are much worth regarding, are on the subject of religion. If this be so, then religion is the last thing that should remain unsettled and undetermined. It can make very little difference to a man, whether he is rich or poor; honored or despised; sick or well; a bondman or a slave. Whether there is an eternity or not, these things are comparatively of trifling moment. How soon is the most exquisite earthly pleasure passed! The charms of the sweetest melody, how soon it dies away on the ear! The tenderest ties of friendship, how soon are they severed! The most splendid mansion, how soon it must be left! The widest reputation, how soon must we cease to enjoy it! And so with the bitterest grief, the keenest sorrow, the most agonizing pain, how soon it is all gone! Whether we are rich or poor, honored or dishonored, life is like a vapor that appears for a little time, and then vanishes away. Of what importance can it be to the vapor that you see in the morning as it lies on the mountain side, whether it be admired by a few more, or a few less mortals; or whether it roll a little higher, or sink a little lower, since it must soon vanish in the beams of the morning sun? So of the vapor of life. The cloud that you see lie along the western sky, as the sun sinks behind the hills, so gorgeous, so changing, so beautiful, of what importance can it be whether a few more or a few less tints be painted there; or whether a few more or a few less eyes gaze upon it-for the darkness of midnight will soon conceal it all. So with the beauty and the gorgeousness of life. So with your dress, your equipage, your

furniture, your dwellings. The night of death cometh, and will shut all from your view.

If man has any great interests, they lie beyond the tomb. If he has none there, life is a bubble, a vapor, a gorgeous illusion, a changing cloud, a mist on the mountain side. And if this be so, it is as well for a man to make up his mind to it, and to eat and drink, for to-morrow he dies. Then he should ascertain this, and have no trouble about the future. He should settle the question, and make as much of luxury and pastime; of the feast and the dance; of the theatre and the ball-room; of riotous indulgence and of ambition, as possible. He should so settle it as to have no trouble from his conscience in the most riotous pleasures; no fear of God in the scenes of sensual indulgence and mirth; no fear of hell while he revels on the bounties which chance may spread around him; no superstitious apprehensions of a judgment-seat while he rolls in dissipation, and tramples on the rights of others. For if there is no eternity, it is utter folly to act with reference to it; if there is no hell, it is folly to be restrained by any such unfounded apprehension; if there is no God, then men should not be disturbed by any superstitious belief that his eye is upon them. But if there is a God, a heaven, a hell, an eternity, then life becomes a very different thing. Then man's great interests are transferred at once to the regions beyond the grave. Then life, now so busy and active, becomes so trifling that it may be said that ALL his interests are there. The great things which are to affect us most deeply do not cease, but just commence, when we lie down on a bed of death. There, amidst the darkness of the dying scene, existence is just begun; and there we are just entering on the scenes which must thrill through the soul, and absorb all its powers forever. Then the eyes turned away from the gorgeousness of the illusive scene here-the vain pageant of this world-are opened upon the realities of the judgment-bar; the throne of God; and the splendors of the unchanging world. Then the ear made deaf by dying to the charms of sweet music, is opened to the sweet strains that float forever over the plains of heaven, or the groans and sighs of the world of wo. Then the soul, insensible longer to the comforts