peace, and the effect of it quietness and assurance for ever. Isa. xxxii. 17.

Of some grossly wicked persons it is indeed said, that "they have no bands in their death." Ps. lxxiii. 4. This perhaps may principally intend, that they escape a violent death, by the hands of public justice, which their crimes may have deserved: Or that their strength continues firm near to the close of life, and they are not distinguished by any peculiar distress, and agonies, in the time of dying. They are those who "die in their full strength, being wholly at ease and quiet;" and not those that "die in the bitterness of their souls, and never eat with pleasure;" as represented, Job xxi. 23, 25. Or, if the expression should be allowed to signify, that they are not bound with the terrors of conscience, in their dying moments that they are not terrified, either with the remembrance of their sins, or the prospect of their punishment: yet this cannot be justly called peace in their death. It is owing to a hard heart, and a seared conscience, which produce a stupid inattention, to their real state and character: It is as remote from that real peace, enjoyed by the true saint, upon Christian principles, as a lethargic insensibility, in an apoplectic person, is from quiet and natural sleep, in one that is in good health. Persons truly and eminently pious, often enjoy peace, upon the principles of the gospel, at their death, as the beginning of that full and everlasting peace, to which death introduces them. "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace." This leads me to say,

4. The death of a righteous man brings him into a state of everlasting life and glory. The end of this life is, to all men, the beginning of an eternal state of existence. The human soul is immortal; it will never die. But how vastly different the condition which follows upon death, to the righteous and to the wicked! "Say to the righteous, it shall be well with him. Wo to the wicked, it shall be ill with him. The wicked shall go away into everlasting punishment; but the righteous into life eternal."

Death puts a final period to all the trials, sorrows, and sufferings of a good man; it introduces him into that rest which remains to the people of God, in heaven. There all his desires shall be satisfied there all the powers of his soul shall be delightfully employed in the service of God; in a happy consort with angels and the spirits of just men made perfect. The felicity which then commences, shall continue and increase for ever. He shall be all joyous and active, in the business and comforts of the heavenly world, and be an entire stranger to any weariness, or imperfection, in this blissful state. Such are the consequences of death to the righteous. Much reason is there to say, "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord." Well may we desire to die the death

of the righteous, and to have our last end like his. On such accounts, as have been suggested, the death of the righteous is desirable. I proceed to the third and last observation, which I shall make on the words, viz.

III. That many persons wish to die the death of the righteous, who will not live the life of the righteous. This was the case with Balaam, whose character, as I said before, was not good. Many wish to be saints at death and after it, who allow themselves to be sinners, and gross ones, through the course of their lives. A desire of happiness, the invariable dictate of nature, and inseparable from the human mind, leads them to wish for a share in the felicity, which the gospel reveals, as the lot of the righteous, in the future world. They have indeed no just and consistent notions of the blessedness of the righteous, at, and after death. They consider not that it consists in a conformity to God, in the temper of their minds-in being holy as He that hath called them into his kingdom, is holy-being in his sacred presence, and engaged in pure and holy employments. As such, they do not desire it; they cannot consistently with the habitual love and practice of sin.

Many have a general notion, that a state of happiness is reserved for the righteous, beyond death; and that there is none other, but one of misery and torments; they wish to partake of the former, though they have no relish for the pleasures and comforts of a religious life, in this world, which, in reality, are the beginnings of the felicity of heaven, and of the same nature, though in a lower degree. They would be glad to enjoy the pleasures of sin, while they live, and when death puts an end to them, escape the wages of sin, and be admitted to the rewards of grace. In this case they adopt the wish of Balaam; Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. This is only a fruitless wish. Indeed, if a person made it the matter of a petition to Heaven, it would not only be vain and fruitless, but full of impiety. It would be, in effect, praying God to alter the fundamental laws of his kingdom, which determine, that "without holiness no man shall see the Lord "-to confound the difference between righteousness and unrighteousness-to do what, in the nature of things, is impossible, namely, to make a man happy with what is directly contrary to the governing temper of his mind-with what is invariably displeasing and offensive to him. Thus absurd and fruitless is it, for a person, allowedly wicked, to wish to die the death of the righteous, and to have his last end like his.

Having endeavored to illustrate these observations suggested by the words, I proceed to some practical improvement.

Is death the lot of all men, of the righteous as well as of others?

How reasonable is it that we consider it, with application to ourselves, and labor to have our minds deeply impressed with a sense of our mortality? To cultivate serious meditations on the certainty of our death, and its daily approaches is an important duty. "This my body which is now animated by a living spirit is mortal, and tending to the dust, out of which it was formed: In a few days it will become a lifeless corpse, and be deposited in the grave, among those of my friends, who are already dead. In a very little time, my soul must go into the world of spirits, and appear before my final Judge, to give an account of my conduct in this probationary state, and to be fixed in endless happiness or misery, according to the deeds done in the body. It is impossible I should long escape the stroke of death, and I know not but it may lay its cold hand upon me before the dawn of another day. The summons will be irresistible, and must be obeyed. Prepared, or unprepared, I must go, when God calls. Nothing further can be done to secure a happy eternity, or to escape a miserable one, than is accomplished in this transitory life. Art thou duly affected, O my soul, with a sense of the certainty, and importance of this change! Art thou as diligent in preparing for it, as will appear reasonable when it does come, or as thou wilt then wish thou hadst been?"

Such serious reflections on the daily approaches of death, with particular application to ourselves, are highly proper, and by the divine blessing, might be very profitable. Is it not very much owing to the neglect of them, that so many conduct as if they were to be here always; and have their hands, and heads, and hearts, so continually crowded with the business and concernments of this life, as leaves them little time, or inclination to attend to the momentous concerns of another world? How would the serious thoughts of death, brought home to our minds, break the force of temptations to sin? How would they moderate our fondness for sensual pleasures? How would they lessen our anxiety about the affairs of this momentary life? How lively, diligent, and conscientious, would they render us, in the duties of religion? Would they not produce the temper discovered by a certain pious man, who being asked, why he was so strict in the duties of piety, and spent so much time in prayer, reading God's word, and devout meditation, gave this answer, I must die, I must die.

Such thoughts would prevent our wasting so much time in vain amusements, as too many do-our trifling with Sabbaths-our slighting the means of grace-our restraining prayer before God. We should not only acknowledge in words, that preparation for death is the one thing needful, but treat it as such. When tempted to a sinful action, we should be ready to reply, to the tempter;

"Soon I must appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, to give account of myself to him, and what a dreadful article in the account, would this wicked action be, should I consent to the commission of it?" When solicited to trifle away a day, or a week, in vanity, we should be ready to reply, "I have but a few days to spend on earth; I know not but this may be my last; I am therefore bound to employ it well, in the duties proper to it. I have no time to throw away in negligence and folly." Such advantages might arise from the habitual, and serious thoughts of death.

The

2. Are there so many things in the death of the righteous to render it desirable? This suggests great comfort, and support to us, when we are called to part with pious friends, by death. change, to them, is safe and happy. It is the period of their trials, sorrows, and temptations. They have weathered the storms of this tempestuous world, and arrived at the haven of everlasting rest. They are entered into the joy of their Lord. O how comforting these considerations concerning them! It would hardly consist with love and friendship, to wish them back again, in this world of trouble and sin.

Such supporting sentiments, I doubt not, we have just reason to entertain, concerning the late worthy pastor of this church, and society, on whose funeral we are now attending. Judging by the fruits of piety and virtue which appeared in him, had we not abundant ground to number him among the righteous in a gospel sense, while he lived? And have we not the same ground to consider the change by death, which has lately taken place upon him, as safe and happy; and as having transmitted his spirit to the rewards of the righteous in the kingdom of his great Lord and Master? Though I am not fond of funeral eulogia, yet silence on the removal of one eminently pious, and useful, in the church of Christ, might be censurable. I wish I was better able to do justice to his character and memory.

The great Author of nature was pleased to endow him with very good mental powers. These being brightened and improved by a learned education, united to a firm and happy constitution of 'body, and sanctified by God's grace, fitted him to discharge with dignity and usefulness, the duties of the Christian and ministerial character: He shone with distinguished lustre, in the orb in which He, who holdeth the stars in his right hand, was pleased to fix him. Not only this society, and this town, but the neighboring ones, have seen and felt, the radiance and influence of this "burning and shining light." He was a zealous defender of what he took to be "the faith once delivered to the saints." He treated much on what have been called, the peculiar doctrines of grace. These, he considered, as doctrines according to godliness: And he constantly maintained it, as a faithful saying, that they who

believe in Jesus, should be careful to perform good works. He knew the great design of preaching too well; and pursued it with too much fidelity, to give into the practice of which some are so fond-the practice of entertaining people with the subtleties of metaphysics; which tend rather to amuse, or perplex, than to impress the conscience, mend the heart and reform the life. As he meant always to be understood, he used great plainness of speech. A more courageous and faithful reprover of vice, both in public, and private, perhaps hath never been known among us. He complied with the direction given to the prophet; "Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet, to show my people their transgressions, and their sins." He was, on proper occasions, a Son of Thunder, endeavoring, by the terrors of the law, to awaken secure and hardened sinners; to point out to them the dreadful danger of a course of sin, and impenitency. But he knew how, happily to change his voice, and to become a Son of Consolation; and by the soft and winning charms of the gospel, to lead weary souls to Christ for rest; and to comfort those that are cast down.

He was diligent, laborious, and fervent in his work, and did not, in his public services, offer to the Lord, that which cost him nothing; but giving himself to reading, meditation, and prayer, brought into the sanctuary, what he used to speak of by the term of beaten oil, i. e. well-studied, and well-connected discourses; adapted to the several ages, characters, and circumstances of his people, and to the present aspects of divine Providence. You, of this society, I trust, are witnesses to the fidelity and tenderness with which he performed the more private parts of ministerial duty visiting the sick-counselling, instructing and comforting them-praying with and for them-endeavoring to speak a word in season to them-and to help them to a proper improvement of the dispensations of Providence. How "he exhorted and comforted, and charged every one of you, as a father doth his children."

And did not his life and conversation happily correspond to his doctrine and instruction? Are ye not witnesses, and God also, "how holily, and justly, and unblamably he behaved himself among you?" He was a lover and promoter of peace-diligent and skilful in his endeavors to quench the coals of beginning strife, before they kindled into a flame.

How steady a friend-how warm an advocate was he, for civil and religious liberty, and the rights of mankind? How firm a patriot in the late struggle for freedom? And it is remarkable, that the last public service he performed, in character of a minister, was to lead in your devout acknowledgments to God, for espousing the cause of America-establishing our independence, and restoring