what the boundless magnificence, with which the eternal Architect has adorned the temple of the universe. Now, it is one of the highest benefits derivable from the death of such men as we have here revered and loved, that it diminishes the sensible remoteness of that happier world to which we hope hereafter to ascend. The strangeness and impalpable spirituality of its whole being seems abated, in equal measure, with our familiarity with the names and character of its inhabitants. We love to recal their features, their voices, their conversation, their gesture; and to think of them, (for so indeed they are) as still near to us, and unchanged. They revisit us in our slumbers;-they meet us in our way;-the remembrance and the emulation of their virtues is blended with the animating consciousness that they are the observers of our conflict, and shall, in a very little while, come forth to greet us on our entrance into the heavenly city. We feel that we are "compassed about" with them, as with "a cloud of witnesses;" and our principles gather strength and energy with the increasing ardour of our hopes, and the equally increasing depth and clearness of our spiritual impressions:—which, in proportion as they are more immediately derived from the reality and the life,-as embodied in the deathless recollection of those with whom we have taken sweet counsel on earth, and who are now numbered before us among the just made perfect, become not only more vivid and of greater force, but more fitted also, by the mere increase of their familiarity, to counteract the operation of surrounding and perishable objects, and

to aid us in the difficult achievement of substituting faith for sense, and the influence of an eternal future for the solicitations and ever-varying allurements of the passing hour.

Finally,-Let the event we this day contemplate teach us to count upon the vanity, and to expect the speedy dissolution, of all temporal things, and to lay up our treasure, and elevate our affections, where the changes and ills of mortality shall be remembered no more. TIME is the empire of desolation and of decay, wherein all that awes or delights us moulders into magnificence, or fades into beauty. Would you learn what here is beautiful? Look not on the glories of the summer, nor on the pride of manly vigour, nor on the gorgeous splendours of the noon-day sun;-but look rather on the withering leaf of autumn, on the silver locks of age, on the soft and tender radiance of the declining day. Would you learn what is noble and majestic, and fills the mind with a sense of overpowering greatness? Go not to the crowded city, or the busy mart of commerce; look not on the pavilions of royalty, or the gaudy trappings of military state :but go to the desert and the solitary plain, where the remains of ancient glory stretch out in silent and melancholy grandeur;-see there the bulwark and the aqueduct, the column and the triumphal arch, lie heaped together in indiscriminate and universal ruin. Repair not to the camp, resounding with martial music, and glittering with a thousand banners waving proudly to the sun;-but to the field of ancient combat, where all is now still and

peaceful, and no other voice is heard than that which murmurs so fearfully in the moans of the passing wind. Go not to the temple, but the sepulchre ;not to the palace, but the tomb.-But ETERNITY is the reign of endless youth and vigour. There, all that is great is imperishable, all that is lovely blooms without decay. Around that throne on high, innumerable bands of blessed and immortal spirits adore, without weariness or repose, the unchanging majesty of their Creator. Our fathers and our brethren are there. There is our inheritance, and our happy home. And they that have gone before us beckon us away;-they point to the bright path which leads us upwards to their peaceful and blessed abodes; they tell us of the joys awaiting us, when we shall be received into their society. Let us arise and follow them, "for this is not our rest:" and never, never let us remit in our exertions, till we have attained to an habitual and holy separation of thought, and feeling, and desire, from all we are so soon to leave behind amidst these regions of death;-and till, in the exercises of faith and hope, of patience, and watchfulness, and meditation, and prayer, we become prepared to partake of their enjoyments, and to mingle in their songs, there;-where their powers are ever active, and their pleasures are ever new.

PARENTAL DUTIES.

AN ADDRESS,

DELIVERED IN

GREAT GEORGE STREET CHAPEL, LIVERPOOL,

FEBRUARY 21st, 1837,

ON OCCASION OF THE PRIVATE ANNUAL MEETING OF MINISTERS FROM LANCASHIRE AND NEIGHBOURING COUNTIES, FOR PURPOSES OF SOCIAL DEVOTION AND MUTUAL BENEFIT; THE SUBJECT HAVING BEEN PRESCRIBED AT The preceding MEETING IN MANCHESTER, JUNE, 1836.