and maintain his outraged authority. With the rod of discipline, comes oftentimes desolation, rebuke, discomfort, darkness and barrenness, in spiritual experience. Should these various bitter experiences, sent to the soul, or the Church, by way of fatherly discipline, fail of recalling the backsliders-should they yet pursue the world, deaf to the voice of love, alluring them back to God-deaf also to the voice of his authority, and to that of his providence, loudly rebuking their perfidy, I can see but one alternative. According to the principles of the Bible they must perish as incorrigible, just as if they had never professed religion. To bear the name of a Christian, cannot carry with it the virtue to save a soul. Not the name but the thing, the vitality, the real essence is essential. Accordingly, I see not why, if admonition, promise, threatening, and all disciplinary influences which the Saviour may employ, fail to recover those who are bent to backsliding, they must not suffer the full penalty of unrepented, unpardoned sin.

1. The first appliances, however, which God will use arc disciplinary. And the first consequence to be apprehended by a backslider, whether an individual or a Church, is outward rebuke. How often has God crossed the path of a Christian's worldliness, or of a Church in its declension ! What signal rebuke he has administered! With the individual how many times has he dried up the streams of idolized accumulation!-permitted his store, his workship, his dwelling to be consumed with flames, his ships to be engulphed in the waves, his harvest fields to be blighted. How may times has affliction uttered God's rebuke! Sickness, prolonged, it may be, and painful, in his person or family, has admonished him. And how many times has it proved that nothing would avail till death took the first-born, and it was over the narrow grave of a loved one that the first tears of repentance fell, the first resolution to be entirely devoted to the Savoiur was formed, and the first steps of the backslider's return taken.

In like manner has it been with churches in their general declension. Their candlestick has been removed out of its place. The fire of devotion has gone out on their altars. Israel of old illustrates this. The Seven Churches of Asia are seven illustrations, and so too many churches at the present day, which have a name to live, but are dead.

2. Another consequence is the discomfort of the forsaken soul; its restless condition, the possibly deep gloom which may settle down like night upon it. It must be unhappy when are withdrawn, with a grieved departing Saviour, the sweet influences of his grace, as well as the joyful assurance of blessedness hereafter.

The power of faith to uplift the soul, and fortify it against rumberless depressing influences, is certainly not one of the least of the blessings of Christianity. Its power to irradiate the future with the soft, calm light of Hope, and to blunt the thorns of our

pathway to the tomb-this is not one of the least of its blessings. It is not a blessing to be despised. It must not be thrown away. And yet whoever is bent to backsliding from God, throws it away. I may, on this point, appeal to your own consciousness. Leaving a Savjour, do you not, fellow Christian, also leave Christian enjoyment? Do you not leave the inspiring, buoyant influence. of Hope? Even so. And what is the equivalent? Nay, rather let me ask, what is the compensation? Alas, what is it? Darkness in the soul, leanness, doubts, fears, compunction, the goads of conscience. The soul is no longer like a watered garden, but is a dry and thirsty land, where no water is. The burdens of life become more oppresive, while yet there are no everlasting arms underneath.

You, whose experience may have taught you how evil a thing it is, and bitter, to depart from Christ, may well inquire

"Where is the blessedness I knew

When first I saw the Lord?
Where is the soul-refreshing view

Of Jesus and his word?

What peaceful hours I then enjoyed!
How sweet their memory still!

But now I find an aching void

The world can never fill."

3. The last consequence which I have time to mention, relates to the future world. It takes hold of retribution. It is this, that unless you repent and do your first works, you must perish. There is no talismanic charm about the name of Christian, or about a profession of religion which can rescue the hopeless backslider. He must lie down like other sinners, under the wrath of God. Yes, beloved hearer, whoever among you are bent to backsliding from God, if you repent not, you cannot enter heaven. Think, then, of the possibility, after all, of your perishing-of the certainty of it, unless you repent. Nor is this all.

Connected with this consequence to yourselves, are melancholy consequences to the unconverted in your families, and in the community. How seldom a sinner repenteth, while the Church is far from God! How seldom !

What will then become of your impenitent children-of these beloved youth, these young men and young women, that love not the Lord Jesus Christ? What will become of these unconverted husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, who are not even thoughtful about their souls, and who will not be, until the backsliding of the Church is healed?

Indeed, it would seem that on the decision you make, relative to returning to God, hinges the salvation, not only of your own souls, but that of your dearest relatives and neighbours. It has well been said, that you are touching chords which will send their vibrations through eternity-holding, as it were, the heart. strings, not of the temporal life of one individual, but the immor

tality of many. Ponder this well. It will constitute, be assured, food of abundant reflection in another world.

And now, in closing, one word to my fellow sinners. In this discourse have been exhibited some of the marks by which to identify those who are bent to backsliding from God-the guilt of their condition and conduct, as also the consequences of it which prompt repentance can alone avert; consequences to themselves personally, to their families, to the churches composed of them, and indirectly to you, inasmuch as your future turns, to a great extent, upon the fidelity or perfidy of the Church.

Now, has it not occurred to you to ask what your character is in the sight of a holy God-what your guilt is, and what your future must be, unless you escape to the Lord Jesus Christ? If even Christian people fall into such guilt, so displease Jehovah, and bring wrath upon themselves, how must it be with you, who are not, like them, restrained by any attachment to the Saviour's person or cause, nor by any solemn vows of consecration, nor by any peculiar influences of guarding grace? What a burden of guilt is yours were God to lay it now open apon your dormant conscience? What a prospect, too, for eternity? If God, has so much against professing Christians, for their worldliness, what must he have against you? And if they will scarcely be savednay, if some of them will be disappointed in the final day, where will you appear?

It is not indeed alleged against you that you are bent on backsliding. No. For you have never at all consecrated your hearts to Ged. But the allegation in your case is, that you permit your hearts to be full of evil, only evil, and that continually. Alas, how can you stand in the Judgment? Not having devoted to your Saviour the least confidence, or affection,-no gratitude, no cheerful service, having lived solely for yourselves, repelling every felt obligation, admitting practically no allegiance to heaven, how can you endure to fall into the hands of an angry God?

Consider well this solemn inquiry, " If the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" Yes; if the Redeemer, if holy angels, and their own consciences too, condemn Christians for withholding a portion only of their hearts from Christ, where will you appear who are altogether devoted to self and sin.

SERMON DCIX.

BY REV. G. A. CALHOUN, D.D.

NORTH COVENTRY, CT.

ADVANTAGES OF GOD'S GRACIOUS PRESENCE.

"And let them make me a sanctuary, that 1 may dwell among them." EXODUS XXv. 8.

Were you to destroy your bibles, demolish your sanctuary, make common the Sabbath, close the lips of the preacher, and cause the the voice of prayer no more to be heard; you would occasion a great diminution of present enjoyment. There are not a few, who take pleasure in reading the Bible. There are those who hail with joy the approaching Sabbath; there are those who esteem it a blessed privilege to enter the courts of the Lord; there are those, who would deeply regret a denial of the rights of baptism, and the Lord's Supper; and there are those, who would hang their harps upon the willows, and mourn in bitterness, were they refused the privilege of prayer.

We see a company assembling for public worship, with anticipations of much satisfaction in the transactions before them. During the services of the occasion, we observe a fixed attention a glow of animation, an expression of joy excited by the presence of God. The assembly is dismissed, and many of them retire, having had a feast more satisfactory to them, than that of" a stalled ox." Look at that man, who seldom, if ever, enters the house of God; has he enjoyment like this?

We hear Christian friends in conversation. Now their theme is the perfections of Jehovah; and admiration and joy swell their breasts. Now redeeming grace is their topic, and how mild and placid their countenances. Now they speak of the progress of the Gospel-the increase of the faithful-the success attending the cause of benevolence-and the final triumph of the cause of Christ; and how elevated and celestial their feelings. Look at that man, who disregards religious institutions; has he comforts like these?

We now silently approach a dwelling. It is the dwelling of the pious. As we are about to tread the threshhold, the voice of prayer greets our ears. The father, and mother, and children, around their family altar, are on their knees before God. The fire of love is kindled in their breasts. The God of love is spe

cially present. Their faces shine while they boldly intercede, that they may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need. Look at the irreligious father, who spurns at the duty of family devotion; has his household peace and comfort like this? To-day we meet a pious father. As he affectionately takes our hand, tears of joy flow from eyes unaccustomed to weep. What causes this overflowing of heart? Oh, his long lost child, -the child of his hopes, the child of his prayers, and the child of his tears, is found. And found by him who came to seek and save that which is lost. Has the ungodly father joy like this?

We now walk in secret places, and what objects are these which we behold? Yonder is an aged pilgrim, wearied with the calls of the world, and the noise of her companions to the grave who has retired with her Bible to enjoy a season of undisturbed communion with God. Oh, how refreshing, how sweet to her taste this communion with her heavenly Father! Yonder, too, is a youth, who has recently been adopted into the family of God. He is presenting his thank-offering for converting grace, and pleading at the throne of mercy for his companions in sin. In the attitude of supplication, he lingers and pleads, and lingers and pleads. His lips break their silence. We hear him saying, "I will not let thee go except thou bless me"-except thou convert and save my companions. Look at those, who scoff at the religion of the cross; are they found in places so sacred, and in employments so delightful, so heavenly as these?

We now visit houses of affliction. Entering one, we find a man of forty-five. A short time since he was the picture of health. This man did not pray in his family. He did not fre-. quent the house of God. To the sacredness of the Sabbath he paid but little attention. And for the support of religious institutions he made no sacrifices. Disease has grasped the springs of life, and in full strength he is writhing and groaning with tortures of body; and this is not all which renders the sight appalling. He is now brought to see himself in the hands of death, unprepared for the retributions of eternity. He entreats us to instruct him, and pray for him. And with a countenance terrific, a soul filled with anguish, and the darkness of despair gathering around him, his cries for pardon and salvation are incessant, until death closes the scene, and there is a great and awful silence. Well did wicked Balaam say. "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."

But as afflictions are not confined to the families of the ungodly, we will enter another dwelling. Here we find an emaciated body, worn out with disease and distress. This person is a female, a tender plant; which has been watched, and nourished, with all the attention and solicitude of a fond mother's care; but the rough winds, and violent storms of death, are now beating upon her. Her eyes are sunk, her bosom heaves, her lips quiver-all, all bespeak the presence of the king of terrors.