MARK xiii. 36.

Watch ye therefore, lest coming suddenly, be sleeping.

AMONG the parables of our Saviour, several recorded by the Evangelists, which him as a Prince, or Lord and Master of a far parting for a season from his servants, an absence, appointing them their proper work solemn charge to wait for his return; at wh he foretold them, that he should require an of their behaviour in his absence, and he eit mates or expresses a severe treatment of the should neglect their duty while he was gone, no preparation for his appearance. He inforr also that he should come upon them on a and for this reason charges them to be alway and upon their guard, ver. 35. "Watch y fore, for ye know not when the Master of the cometh, whether at even, or at midnight, or a crowing, or in the morning."

Though the ultimate design of these parabl the 'coming of Christ' mentioned therein,

the great day of judgment, when he shall return from heaven, shall raise the dead, and call mankind to appear before his judgment-seat, to receive a recompense according to their works; yet both the duties and the warnings, which are represented in these parables, seem to be very accommodable to the hour of our death; for then our Lord Jesus, who has the keys of death and' the grave, and 'the unseen world,' comes to finish our state of trial, and to put a period to all our works on earth: He comes then to call us into the invisible state; he disposes our bodies to the dust, and our souls are sent into other mansions, and taste some degrees of appointed happiness or misery, according to their behaviour here. The solemn and awful warning which my text gives us concerning the return of Christ to judgment, may be therefore pertinently applied to the season when he shall send his messenger of death, to fetch us hence: "Watch ye therefore, lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping."

When I had occasion to treat on a subject near akin to this,* I shewed that there was a distinction to be made, between the 'dead sleep of a sinner,' and 'slumber of an unwatchful Christian.' Those who never had the work of religion begun in their hearts or lives, are sleeping the sleep of death; whereas some who are made alive by the grace of Christ yet may indulge sinful drowsiness, and grow careless and dead sinners from their lethargy, and to k Christians awake.

First, Let us survey the sad conseque attend those that are asleep in sin and dead, when the hour of natural death a They are such as these,

I. 'If they happen to be awakened on t of the grave, into what a horrible confusio tress of soul are they plunged? What ke of conscience for their past iniquities s them? What bitter remorse and self-repre the seasons of grace which they have wast proposals of mercy which they have abus jected, and for the divine salvation which s to be lost for ever, and put almost beyond of possibility and hope. They feel the me death, laying his cold hands upon them, shudder and tremble, with the expectati proaching misery. They look up to heaven see a God of holiness there, as a consumin dy to devour them, as stubble fit for the flar look to the Son of God, who has the keys in his hand, and who calls them away from

of the living, even to Jesus the compassionate Mediator, but they can scarce persuade themselves to expect any thing from him, because they have turned a deaf ear so long to the invitations of his gospel, and so long affronted his divine compassion. They look behind them, and with painful agonies are frighted at the mountains of their former guilt, ready to overwhelm them: They look forward, and see the pit of hell opening upon them, with all its torments; long darkness without a glimpse of light, and eternal despair with no glimmerings of hope.

Or if now and then amidst their horrors, they would try to form some faint hope of mercy, how are their spirits perplexed with prevailing and distracting fears, with keen and cutting reflections? Oh that I had improved my former seasons for reading, for praying, for meditating on divine things! But I cannot read, I can hardly meditate, and scarce know how to pray. Will the ear of God ever hearken to the cries and groans of a rebel that has so long resisted his grace? Are there any pardons to be had for a criminal, who never left his sins till vengeance was in view? Will the blood of Christ ever be applied to wash a soul, that has wallowed in his defilements, till death roused him out of them? Will the meanest favour of heaven, be indulged to a wretch who has grown bold in sin, in opposition to so loud and repeated warnings? I am awake indeed, but I can see nothing round me but distresses and discouragements, and my soul sinks within me, and my heart dies at the thoughts of appearing before God."

bed, and the tumults and flutterings of thou attend such a late conviction. There can any effectual proofs given of the sincerity c pentings: And I am verily persuaded the of them sincere; for we have often found lent emotions of conscience vanish again, i ner has happened to recover his health: T to be merely the wild perplexities and str nature, averse to misery, rather than avers Their renouncing their former lusts, on the ders of hell and destruction, is more like t ment and irregular efforts of a drowning constrained to let go a most beloved object, ing eager hold of any plank for safety, rat the calm and reasonable, and voluntary des mariner, who forsakes his earthly joys, ventu self in a ship that is offered him, and sets sa heavenly country. I never will pronounce forts and endeavours desperate, lest I limit t of God which is unbounded; but I can g little encouragement for hope to an hour or this vehement and tumultuous penitence, on brink of damnation. 'Judas repented, but