gent hand maketh rich. Prudent men pursue their worldly calling with as much industry, and as much cheerfulness, as if the connection between the means in use and the object in view, were ever so certain. Men love the world, and in regard to their worldly interest they generally reason properly and act prudently. They naturally have not a love to religion; and would excuse themselves from its obligations; hence in their reasonings on this subject they run into the grossest absurdities. "The children of this world are in their generation wiser than the children of light."

In June, 1803, a youth, in his fifteenth year, by a sudden casualty suffered an internal injury under which he languished in extreme distress for a number of days, and then expired. He was a youth of a serious mind and amiable manners. In his illness he exhibited a pattern of patience and resignation, and expressed a calm hope of a blessed immortality.

On the Lord's day next preceding his death, a number of young people, returning from public worship, called at the house to see him. He received them with attention, and addressed them in the following manner :—

ago,

"You see, my friends, the situation that I am in. A few days I was in health like you. By a sudden accident I am confined to my bed, and probably shall soon be laid in my grave. None of you know, how soon you may be in a condition like mine. You see in me the necessity of being early prepared for death. I advise you to think of the uncertainty of life, and to prepare for death immediately. Delay not such a work any longer; no, not for a single hour. I particularly advise you to reverence the sabbath, and the house of God. There are some young people, who are too vain in their talk on the sabbath, and too light and inattentive in their appearance in the time of worship. Avoid these evils. They will cause you to mourn at the last, when your flesh and your body are consumed, and to say, how have we hated in

struction and our hearts despised reproof. Never use profane language. This is a sin, which young people too often practise. I have sometimes heard it with grief. Remember, that for every sinful word you speak, you must give an account. Obey and honour your parents, and treat all elderly people with respect. Ask counsel and instruction from them, that you may grow in wisdom and in favour with God and men. Read the scriptures, that you may learn the way of salvation, and turn your hearts and your feet into that way. You are dependent on God's grace. But you must seek it, if you hope to obtain it. Seek unto God betimes. Seek him while he may be found. I cannot say much. But I beg you to remember the little that I can say. I see you now in tears, and you think, you will follow my advice. But I fear, you will soon forget it. You will not always feel as you do now, while you are looking on my dying body, and hearing my feeble voice. But that you may bring my advice to mind, gỗ sometimes to the place where my body will soon be laid. Perhaps a sight of the clods which cover it, will remind you of my advice, and awaken your resolution to follow it. You know not how soon you may be laid near me. You think religion is important to me, because I am soon to die. It is as important to you, as it is to me; for you are as mortal as I am, though perhaps you are not to die quite as Whenever you die, you will need its comforts, as much as

soon.

I do now. I beg you to secure these comforts in season. And this is the season."

This was the substance of the young man's advice to his fellow youths, as related to me by his father, the next day, when I visited the family.

The father is a respectable man, and has ever appeared friendly to religion; but, on professed scruples, had delayed to attend the communion. I thought I might profit by the present occasion in renewing former advice. I spake to him in the following manner.

"I am exceedingly pleased with your son's counsel to the young, and there is one part of it which strikes me with peculiar force. He advised them, now and then, to visit his grave, that they might better remember, and more deeply feel, his dying exhortation. This is so similar to the dying command of Christ, that I cannot forbear to remark to you the similitude.

"The Saviour, when he was on earth, spent the greater part of his ministry in giving good instructions to those who would hear him. When the time of his death drew near, his instructions were more frequent and affectionate; and he urged them by the solemn circumstances of his approaching death. He well knew that good counsels were easily forgotten; he therefore recommended the frequent remembrance of his death, as a mean to impress his words more deeply and more indelibly on the heart. The place of his burial could not be visited by his disciples in all ages, and in all parts of the world; and if it could, yet his body would not be there, for it was soon to rise. He therefore instituted a particular ordinance, as a representation and memorial of his death; and commanded, that this should be frequently observed in remembrance of him, to shew forth his death, till his second coming. The end for which he appointed this ordinance was, that we might remember him, and the words which he spake― remember his death and the benefits which it procured.

"Now, sir, you certainly think that your son gave his companions good advice, when he recommended their visiting his tomb, that they might revive a remembrance of his instructions; and you wish they would comply with it. And ought not we much rather to regard the dying command of the Saviour, who has required you and me and all to come to the place, where he is set forth as crucified for us; and there to awaken the recollection of his instructions and our resolution to obey them? Their

attention to your son's counsel is expedient; our obedience to the Saviour's command is indispensable."

At the next communion he was present as an affectionate spectator; and at the next following he was present as a devout communicant.

On the sabbath that followed the young man's death, I applied to the youth in general, the counsel which he had given to some of them; and urged their attendance at the communion, by the argument which I had pressed on the father. This sermon is inserted in my fifth volume.

A sermon on the infirmities and comforts of old age, first preached to my own people, January, 1805, was soon after preached to the people in Springfield, at whose motion it was printed.

Two unhappy instances of suicide in Suffield, the latter in February, 1805, gave occasion to my sermons on that subject. They were first printed in Suffield; and afterwards revised and printed in Springfield.

A severe drought in the summer of 1805, suggested the duty of seeking to God for rain. I invited my people to assemble for that purpose, and delivered to them a sermon on the subject. The sermon was printed.

In October, 1805, the great bridge between Springfield and West-Springfield, which is nearly seventy rods long, and cost about thirty-seven thousand dollars, was completed, and the 30th day of that month appointed for opening it. Mr. Howard, the minister of Springfield, being infirm, application was made to me to deliver a discourse on that day. It was urged, that the concourse of people on so singular an occasion, would probably be great, and an apposite discourse might not only prevent irregularity and disorder among the people, but contribute to improve their sentiments and morals. I complied with the request. The day was fine;

G

the assembly numerous and profoundly attentive. The day passed with perfectly good order. A copy of the sermon was given to the proprietors, at their request, and published at their expense.

In December following, a foreigner, who had resided in my parish, but then lived in Springfield, was occasionally on the west side of Connecticut river, and very late in a dark evening, went from a house about half a mile north from the bridge with an intention to cross over to Springfield; but he was no more heard of.* The more probable and prevailing opinion was, that, the night being extremely dark, he passed beyond the path which turned to the bridge, and went forward, until he came to Aga* wam river, which empties into the Connecticut; and, the bank being steep and the water high, he plunged down the bank, and was carried off in the current. But as there had lately been a most daring robbery and murder on the publick road, a few miles east from Springfield, the minds of people were alive to the suspicion of murder; and a man was sent to Albany to learn from a pretended revealer of secrets, what was the fate of the man, who hạd so suddenly disappeared. This expedition, which was encouraged by some of my own people, as well as by others, was the occasion of my discourse, entitled, "Illustrations and reflections on Saul's consulting the witch of Endor." It was preached and published at the request of some of my people.

The workings of imagination in some people's minds on the event of this man's disappearance, brought to my recollection an incident in my neighborhood some years before.

A poor man, and not of the best character, came to my house in great agitation, and said to me: "You requested me to work for you to-day, and I told you, I would; but there has something

* His remains were found in, or near the river in East-Windsor, in April fol. Towing.