Such then, my young friends, are the natural and experienced consequences of the inordinate love even of innocent amusement, and such the intellectual and moral degradation to which the paths of pleasure conduct. On that path you are now entering, the season opens to you many various sources of enjoyment,-and many a siren voice is prepared to invite you to indulgence and joy. At such a time, let me entreat you to pause, ere you begin your course; ere those habits are acquired which may never again be subdued and ere ye permit the charms of pleasure to wind around your soul their fascinating powers.

Think, with the elevation and generosity of your age, whether this is the course that leads to honour or to fame ;-whether it was in this discipline that they were exercised, who, in every age, have blessed, or have enlightened the world,whose shades are present to your midnight thoughts,--and whose names you cannot pronounce without the tear of gratitude or admiration.

Think, still more, whether it was to the ends of unmanly pleasure that you were dedicated, when the solemn service of religion first enrolled you in the number of the faithful, and when the ardent tears of your parents mingled with the waters of your baptism. If they live, is it in such paths that their anxious eyes delight to see you tread ?— If they are no more, is it on such scenes that they can bend their venerated heads from Heaven, and rejoice in the course of their children?

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But, far more than all, think, my young friends, on your entrance upon time's eventful journey, whether it was to pursue the course of an idle, a selfish, and an inglorious life, that you were created "in the image of God,”—and that the inspiration of the Almighty himself gave you understanding?-whether this was the course which the Saviour of the world pursued, and on which he hath called you "to follow him ?"-and whether this is the character of those "spirits made per66 fect," who, after having finished the journey upon which you are now entering, "stand before "the throne of that God for ever ?"

SERMON XXI.

ON WINTER, AS THE SEASON OF RELIGIOUS THOUGHT.

PSALM Ixxiv. 17.

"Thou hast made summer and winter."

UPON a former occasion, I addressed myself to the young of our congregation, in reference to that season of amusement which winter generally brings; and I endeavoured to explain to them some of those dangers to which the unrestrained love even of innocent amusement naturally leads, and what are the melancholy effects which it too frequently has, both upon their future conduct and happiness.

There are many others, however, to whom winter arrives, beside the young and the gay;—there are other sentiments than those of joy, with which the hearts of many meet its approach; and there are higher instructions which it is fitted to give, than those which youth alone can derive from it. It is to this description of our congregation, to the serious, the thoughtful, and the mature, that I now

wish, for a few moments, to address myself; to shew them what are the lessons which they may draw from the appearances they witness, and to suggest to them some of those reflections which the season naturally awakens, and which it would be wise in us all to render familiar to our minds.

I have before had occasion to observe, that, while the great end of the variation of seasons is the support and maintenance of the material world to which we belong, it has yet also an indirect effect in the moral and religious instruction of man; and that, by this silent means, "day unto "day uttereth unto him speech, and night unto "night teacheth him knowledge." There are emotions which every where characterize the different seasons of the year. In its progress, the savage is led, as well as the sage, to see the varying attributes of the Divine Mind ;—and, in its magnificent circle, it is fitted to awaken in succession, the loftiest sentiments of piety which the heart can feel. When spring appears,—when the earth is covered with its tender green, and the song of happiness is heard in every shade, it is a call to us to religious Hope and Joy. Over the infant year, the breath of Heaven seems to blow with paternal softness, and the heart of man willingly participates in the joyfulness of awakened nature. When summer reigns, and every element is filled with life, and the sun like a giant pursues his course through the firmament above, it is the

season of solemn Adoration ;-we see then, as it were, the majesty of the present God;-and wherever we direct our eye, "the glory of the "Lord seems to cover the earth, as the waters "cover the sea." When autumn comes, and the annual miracle of nature is completed ;-" when "all things that exist have waited upon the God "which made them, and he hath given them food "in due season," it is the appropriate season of Thankfulness and Praise. The heart bends with instinctive gratitude before him whose beneficence "neither slumbers nor sleeps," and who, from the throne of glory, "yet remembereth the things that "are in Heaven and Earth."

The season of Winter has also similar instructions;-to the thoughtful and the feeling mind it comes not without a blessing upon its wings;and perhaps the noblest lessons of religion are to be learnt amid its clouds and storms.

1. It is, in the first place, a season of solemnity, and the aspect of every thing around us is fitted to call the mind to deep and serious thought. The gay variety of nature is no more ;-the sounds of joy have ceased, and the flowers which opened to the ray of summer are all now returned to dust. The sun himself seems to withdraw his light, or to become enfeebled in his power; and while night usurps her dark and silent reign, the hosts of Heaven burst with new radiance upon our view, and pursue through unfathomable space their bright