a riper age, or struck down by an unforeseen blow, will be dropping off from the stage of life, and mourning and regret must be the portion of those who remain behind. Where then can be found a more availing lenitive for these afflicting sorrows, than in the consideration, that the change which we so much regret has actually proved a change most happy and advantageous for those who repose in death; that they, the virtuous and the good, whom here we tenderly loved, are, at that very moment of dissolution which seems so dreadful, conveyed to a paradise of enjoyment, where they live in a purer state, are soothed with pleasing recollections and the brightest hopes, are alive perhaps to many feelings and affections of their former condition? Let the state of the soul in death be considered to be a state of torpor and inaction: and the mind shrinks back from the idea with a cold and comfortless feeling; under this anticipation we believe ourselves to be destined, for a long and dreary period in which thousands of generations perhaps. are entering on the stage of life, and departing from it, to a destitution of all positive enjoyment, to an extinction of all energy and affection. And all that sorrow for the departed remains in full force, which is founded on the knowledge of the present deadness of all their living powers

and perceptions. On the other hand, if the state of the departed be, as it assuredly is, a state where the vital principle is still in action, where the soul is still alive to hope, is still open to enjoyment; if it be, as assuredly it is, a state of calm repose and expectant happiness; then is there indeed reason to rejoice and not to sorrow for those who abide in death. They are not dead, even for the present; they are not even now deprived of that exercise of affection, of those capacities of happiness, which they here possessed: but they enjoy those capacities in a riper state, they are able to exercise them in a wider scope. They are now perhaps alive to the love of those whom they have left on earth; perhaps they observe their actions ; perhaps they share their feelings; and feed on the sweet expectation of a second meeting in far happier abodes.

But, if this belief be calculated to soothe the regrets for the departed, which must arise in the breasts of those who remain on earth; it is still more availing to animate their virtues, and to stimulate their hopes; to wean them from all excessive attachments to this world's good, to diminish all undue reluctance in submitting to death. The soul of man will ever indeed experience some natural dread on approaching that awful period. It clings with fond affection to the

many objects of its interest and regard on earth. It especially shrinks from the thought of entering on a long continued state of torpor and insensibility. But, when the gratifying assurance is pressed upon it, that it passes, at the period of its dissolution, at once and without delay, into a paradise of enjoyment and repose; every undue feeling of alarm becomes hushed, every hope of better things becomes quickened and invigorated. Death no longer wears an aspect of terror: it no longer threatens even a temporary extinction of vital powers: it presents an immediate opening into a new scene of life and perception. There will the soul be alive to many of its former feelings: there will no breath of anxious trouble ruffle its repose: there will it again enjoy the loved society of those, from whom it has here been severed; and, above all, there will it be soothed and gratified by hope, that best and richest element of happiness; the sure and well-grounded hope of rising at the last day, to a reunion with a more glorified body, in a state of happiness, such as eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, perfect and unchangeable.

SERMON XVI.

THE ALLIANCE OF RELIGION AND LEARNING. (Preached on Commencement Sunday before the University of Cambridge.)

JOHN viii. 12.

I am the light of the world.

Ir admits of no question that our Lord applies this expression, in a primary sense, to Himself, as the dispenser to mankind of the most valuable of all knowledge, the knowledge of true religion. His Apostle St. John, in the opening portion of his Gospel, speaks of Him in similar terms, as "a light which shineth in darkness," and as " the true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world."

'

And who does not at once acknowledge the propriety of these expressions? Who does not perceive that, as the great natural light which adorns the firmament, dispels with its rising beams the shades of darkness which envelop the

a John i. 5. 9.

t

earth, so He, the Sun of righteousness, chased away the spiritual darkness which covered the minds of men, and poured into them the bright effulgence of heavenly truth? Before His appearance upon earth, mankind were lost in ignorance and error. Their understandings were darkened as to all that regarded their relation to the great God and Father of all, and the true end and destiny of their being. Ignorant of Him to whom alone the heart of man should turn with prayer and adoration, they paid unhallowed service to them which were no gods. They were destitute of any sure foundation of religious or moral duty. They possessed no certain rule to guide them in life; still less were they blessed with any solid or availing hope in death. But, when in a spiritual sense God commanded that light should be, the darkness fled. Our blessed Lord taught men to know the supreme, invisible and only God, and to worship Him in spirit and in truth. He instructed them in those paths of duty which lead to their surest happiness. He brought to light life and immortality," teaching from the highest of all authorities, that most momentous of all truths, that all mankind are placed here in a state of preparation for an eternal state, and that their condition in that eternal state depends entirely on their present conduct. But while it was undoubtedly in this primary

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