"AN HONEST MAN IS THE NOBLEST WORK OF GOD."

What! Honesty the perfection of virtue? What! Is that the noblest creature of God, which is consistent with the most consummate selfishness, and which may exist in unjarring harmony with impiety towards God and cruelty towards men? Is rigid justice in one's dealings with his fellow-creatures, the highest excellence of moral character? Why, it is the lowest on the list of the virtues. It is no compliment to a man to say that he is honest, because it is so shameful to be otherwise; and to say it of the dead, as the most that can be said of them, is very much like an insult to their memory. Such feeble praise is heavy censure. He must be poorly off for virtues, who boasts of his honesty. But let it be understood, as the poet hath said, that honesty is the perfection of virtue, and we know the consequence. Most men are satisfied to approach perfection. To be all but the noblest work of God, they think is doing well; for according to this scheme, the man that is all but honest, is all but at the summit of virtue, all but the noblest work of God. The truth is, it is no very great doing, to give every man his legal dues. It is our duty, and our glory, and our happiness, to give to others much more than their dues.

INFLUENCES.

The man who is exposed to evil influences, who sees evil example, who imbibes erroneous doctrine, who frequents evil places, and keeps evil company, is not the only man whose last state is worse than the first. It is a certain fact, with which every moral agent should be acquainted, that a man may grow worse and worse, more guilty and more depraved, under the most benign and blessed influences to which the human character can be exposed; and his progress to evil will seem even to be accelerated by such influences. The case of Judas Iscariot, is a striking proof and melancholy illustration of the truth of this assertion, which may seem to some an incredible paradox. Judas walked in the light of the highest example that ever shone upon earth. Such men as John and his fellow apostles were his companions. Such places as the garden of Gethsemane were his resorts. Such families as that of Lazarus and his two sisters he visited. Such sounds as those of prayer and praise he habitually listened to. He heard the Gospel from him, in whose breast the grace that originated it dwelt, and who spake as never man spake. He witnessed daily deeds of benevolence. He inhaled the most healthful atmosphere, and listened, and moved, and had his being amid the most benignant influences. And yet what became of him all know, a traitor, a deicide; worse than he would have become if thieves had been his companions, and murder and

rapine his employ; a more depraved and guilty being than he could have become under any other supposable circumstances. And why? Because he carried and cherished in his heart, and would by no means part with one depraved disposition-accursed covetousness, which defeated, yea, vitiated, in their effect on him, all good influences.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

How common is it among men to desire to know what is thought of them by their friends and acquaintances; and if their name has been carried across the waters, and to distant countries, they feel a desire to know whether it is well or ill esteemed. Strange then that men should feel so little interest in ascertaining whether the family in heaven, the innumerable company of angels, and the just men made perfect, have ever hailed and in songs celebrated their repentance. Why have men no curiosity to know, especially, in what estimate they are held by the blessed Trinity? Many seem not to care whether He smiles or frowns, whose smile is heaven, and whose frown is hell.

Oh, the strange infatuation of men! What will be the next news from Europe? Which way the price of some staple commodity is likely next to fluctuate? Who will next be the chief magistrate ?are the ques

But where are they

What is to be their

tions which interest most men. going to pass their immortality? state forever? Whether are they maturing for heaven or hell?-are uninteresting inquiries.

We need not travel to the pole to ascertain how it points—the little needle of the compass tells us. Nor need we look at the sun to find its place in the heavens -the dial plate can tell us. So is the heart to him that studies it, the index of the direction and destiny of the soul.

DEATH-BED REPENTANCE.

As for that sorrow and regret which is felt by the rich and dying, let it not be mistaken for repentance. It proves nothing. It is a miserable hope that is built upon it. No man has any assurance that since the foundation of the world, more than one man, repenting thus late, repented savingly; for the dying man has no opportunity to "bring forth fruits meet for repentance," and only "by their fruits shall ye know them."

Perhaps nothing would more strikingly illustrate the deceitfulness of sin, than the perversion thereby proced, in regard to future repentance. It tells how y excellent opportunities there will be for repene in the progress of life, seasons of afflictions, ods of leisure, occasions of sickness, and what a

golden time the last, the sickness that shall be unto death, will afford, what a glorious opportunity then, in the midst of medicines, and in the company of nurses, and physicians, and pastors, when there is necessity to constrain, and agony to urge on, and no world to attract, no friend to oppose, no formidable cross to take up, but death is in near view and every thing favorable! The poor sinner is made to think a return of the Pentecost would hardly equal such a time in advantages for repentance! He forgets that the soul is not merely bound with filaments-that there are chains to be broken. He forgets that in making peace with God, the divine consent and concurrence are as necessary as his. He forgets too, that true repentance is not a mere and that there is a sorrow for sin, for which hell is a penitentiary.

sorrow,

There is among the realities of this world, what answers to that which in the parable of the virgins is set forth in figure. A person, he may be one of those who have borne the lamp of the Christian profession, and gone forth to meet the bridegroom, makes in one of his last hours, perhaps his very last, the painful discovery that he has no grace in his heart. What shall he do? His mind is now awake. But the approach of death has already been announced; and the cry, "he cometh, he cometh," has been reiterated in his ears, and he hears the fatal foot-fall at hand. What shall he do? He has no time to lose. He applies to those around him; but all the help they can afford is friendly counsel -"go buy ;" and he hastily goes; and with tears and sighs he asks for the holy oil; and he offers the world,