there may be partiality, but there is not friendship, such as it existed between Jesus and John; such in fact as that for which Jesus prayed, when he said, 'Holy Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are one.'

My christian friends, if you have found one, who leans on your breast, and you are not afraid that he should listen to the secrets that disturb it; if wisdom and virtue have directed you to him if ardent love of truth, generous accommodation to each other, fear of God, attachment to his gospel, and hope of everlasting life have bound you together, cherish such a union of minds. The grace of Jesus Christ will temper every desire of your hearts, and mellow your affections by the gentle influences of his gospel. Your interests will more closely intertwine as you draw nearer to the grave, and become more detached from the surrounding distractions of the world, and the tomb, when it closes upon you, shall not separate you, for as God is true, they that sleep in Jesus he will bring with him. Jesus, who once raised a friend from the tomb, will not let it close forever on those who love him, and who love like him.

SERMON XIX.

ON SELF-EXAMINATION.

A DISCOURSE PREACHED ON THE LAST DAY OF THE YEAR.

LUKE, XVI. 2.

GIVE AN ACCOUNT OF THY STEWARDSHIP.

ONCE more a day has arrived which reminds us of the astonishing flight of our time. And of what time? Of that brief space in which is crowded the whole scene of our mortal probation; that momentary space in which is determined the everlasting destiny of man. I tremble when I think that we are now taking an eternal leave of one more of those few years that are allotted to the life of man. Man fleeth as a shadow, and continueth not. Let us employ the fleeting moments of this day in reflecting upon the poverty of human existence, before it escapes and shuts up forever the closing year.

Why is it that the points and bounds of our passing time, when they present themselves, affect us so unpleasantly, and spread such a gloom over our meditations? Is it that we were not aware of the

approach of this last day of another year? No, surely; for every departing week, every setting sun has given us an admonition of this day, and has prepared us for its arrival. Is it because this day informs us how old we are, and that we are so much nearer to the close of life? No, surely; for every other day has told us the same truth, and besides this, who is there but imagines that he has many years to live? No, my friends; it is because this day awakens our sleeping recollection and brings up the story of our lives. It is because this day interrogates us with more than common solemnity, What account can you give of the year that is past? It summons us to look into our characters, our families; to examine the posture of our affairs with regard to the great objects of our existence on earth, and something whispers that all is not right, and that if we can shut our eyes without apprehension, it is no longer without peril. This, this it is, which gives this day its terrors. The sun rises as surely, the face of nature is the same, the provision for our life is as sure and regular as ever; but yet a voice seems to issue from the closing portals of the year, Give an account of thy stewardship,' and a secret alarm steals over the mind at the consequences of our delay.

Since, then, we have reached, by God's blessing, so favorable a spot for reflection, let us devote this opportunity to severe self-examination. To assist you in this duty, which, though painful, must not therefore be avoided, allow me to suggest to you

some subjects of inquiry. In doing this, I would not assume the office of an inquisitor, nor even that of a monitor; but only give some refreshment to your memories, and some direction to your meditations.

In this review of our character and situation we must, if we would do it usefully and effectually, limit ourselves to some definite periods of time, and portions of our conduct. There is nothing more proper than to confine it to the year that is past, and to consider the state of our minds and hearts, our domestic, our social, and our religious condition.

1. In the first place, when we examine the improvement we have made, at any time, in mind and disposition, there presents itself to our view a meagre account of our mental treasures, and an humbling sense of our defects of temper. Do we find that we have supplied during the last year the chasms and vacuities of our knowledge, or are we yet as ignorant as ever of many things most important to acquire? Have we set apart a portion of our leisure to the cultivation of our understandings? Have the difficulties, for instance, which have hitherto obstructed our faith, or kept alive our prejudices against Christianity, been honestly examined and fairly removed, or do we remain as ignorant of God and of his gospel, as at any former period? Though many incidents we meet with, arouse a temporary interest in religion, have we taken pains to preserve this interest and to follow

the light which has sometimes darted across our path, or have we sunk back again into the darkness which usually envelopes our meditations? If, on the contrary, while we have increased in years, the memory and the sentiment of the most important truths in religion have been fading away, can we be satisfied with such a state of mind, even though on other subjects we may have learnt much, and have added to our experience in politics, literature, and the conduct of life? The subjects relating to our religion and to our duties, are vast and impressive, and they cannot be learnt at a glance. Let us not go through another year in all the presumptuousness of ignorance; upon subjects, too, which in a single hour may burst upon our unprepared minds with all the terrible certainty of another life.

Again; can we discover during the last year any melioration of our tempers, and any improvement of our habits? We have formerly suffered much sordid attachment to wealth. Are we disengaged from this slavery? We have sometimes felt the stings of envy, and the troubles of vanity, peevishness, and discontent. Are we yet free from these miserable tormentors, or are we at this moment suffering as much as ever from envy, pride, disappointment, and unsatisfied desires? Are the resentments which we once felt, at last extinguished; and has the coldness which we have indulged towards some men, given place to more cordial sentiments? The thought of death has perhaps