versity which he might have to meet. In language figurative, but sufficiently plain, the prophet is called to consider, that if lighter trials so much disconcerted him, how he would endure more severe affliction : "If thou hast run with the footmen," contended with thine equals," and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses?" or execute thine office in defiance of rank and authority? "And if

in the land of peace wherein thou trustest, they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan?" What temper would he maintain, what conduct would he pursue, should an hostile army invade Judea, throw the country into confusion, and spread universal desolation?

Such appears to be the primary meaning of the text, considered in its connexion. But the language is metaphorical: it is a sort of proverbial saying, and may be applied to any occurrence that agitates with distress, or threatens with danger. Its accommodation to the subject already introduced is natural and easy.

I. We notice the propriety of the expression, in application to THE EVENT OF DEATH: "The swelling of Jordan."

Jordan is a river of considerable note, flowing between the Desert of Arabia and Palestine. It is frequently mentioned both in sacred and common history. Modern travellers speak of it, and variously describe its appearance and extent. The prophet Jeremiah, at least three times, adverts to "the swelling of Jordan," which he does in allusion to a known fact, that at certain periods, particularly about " the time of barley harvest," this river used to rise to a considerable height, to overflow its banks, and to spread with violence in all directions.

But what relation does this bear to the solemn event of death? We reply,-The Wilderness of

Arabia, through which the Israelites journeyed, is frequently considered as an emblem of the world, or of human life; and Canaan, the land of promise, which they reached, as an emblem of Heaven: on the same principle, and with equal propriety, Jordan may be regarded as an instructive representation of death. As a river, death lies between this world and the next; nor can we enter the promised inheritance above, but by passing the important change. As a river, it constantly flows; sometimes silently, and at other times with impetuosity and noise. It flows gradually, but with irresistible might, until it loses itself in the boundless ocean of eternity. As a river also it frequently swells, it rises high, it spreads wide, and commits awful depredation to the terror of a guilty world.

And what have you thought of death? Is there not propriety in this representation of it? Have you regarded the event as of little consequence, as a small stream over which you may step with the utmost ease? Have you not rather contemplated its magnitude as a river deep and wide, in which you expect to meet with at least some difficulty? Rivers swell by falls of rain, and by the accession of tributary streams; and death is formidable owing to our defection from God, our accumulated sins, and unreasonable guilty fears. To thousands this may well be the case; and we only wonder that the very prospect of this awful event to the wicked does not embitter all their enjoyments, and fill them with habitual dread. But death is terrific, in itself considered, to the Christian-to the man who looks beyond it with cheering hope. You need not be told, that there is something in the idea of crossing this river at which nature recoils; the last struggle, the final separation, the pang of departing life, the rending asunder of body and spirit, cannot be anticipated as a trifle. No-it is, in every case, "a serious thing to die."

You acknowledge it; the heart of sensibility feels it; and the question of universal, of personal application is this:-"How wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan?"

II. We urge the inquiry on VARIOUS CHARACTERS, and offer such advice as seems to be appropriate.

It may previously be observed, that how a man dies becomes a concern of such vast importance, because of what is after death; because of his accountability to God, his rational and immortal nature. Brutes die, and they cease to exist; but man dies, and his existence is perpetuated. At the moment of his dissolution he enters eternity; his spirit sinks into wretchedness, or ascends to glory.

Is there an infidel in this place?-a man who scoffs at the Bible, and treats religion with contempt? We shall not reason with this man, for he repels argument; nor is it worth while to answer all the cavils which his pride and enmity may cherish against Revelation; but we apprize him of danger, we solemnly warn him, and may God fix the warning on his conscience! Infidels die, and dreadful beyond expression has been the end of such. This "Jordan" has swelled to a tremendons height, and sunk them in confusion and despair. One exclaimed, struggling in death:-"That there is a God I know, because I feel his wrath; that there is a hell I am certain, having received the dreadful earnest of my inheritance there." His last cry was, when he could struggle no longer: "Oh! the insufferable pangs of hell and damnation !"

The late excellent Bishop of London has remarked, that the writings of Voltaire" have unquestionably produced more infidels among the higher classes, and spread more general corruption over the world than all the voluminous productions of all the other phi

losophers of Europe put together;" and mark the end of this man! It is stated as a well-authenticated fact, that the nurse who attended him on his deathbed, being soon after his death called to attend another person in dying circumstances, eagerly inquired whether this person was an infidel; assigning as the reason of her inquiry, that she had suffered so much, had been so greatly terrified, by the extreme dread and horror which Voltaire had expressed, that she was determined to attend no one who was not a Christian. There was much effort to conceal the agonies of his mind from the knowledge of the world, but the effort was vain. His last words are said to have been: "I am abandoned by God and man.'

You are shocked at the end of infidels, and well you may; but the number of those who are deliberately and avowedly such is comparatively small; and as you are not of their character, you apprehend no danger. But are you therefore safe?

Many, it is feared, attending our places of religious worship, and some connected with orderly families, though not sunk in infidelity, are yet as ignorant almost as heathens, living in sin, the enemies of God, and of themselves by wicked works. This may be the condition of some of you, but you must die; and what sort of a death will be yours? You seldom think of dying, and when the thought does intrude, you are buoyed up with a kind of hope; but have you not heard-" The hope of the wicked shall perish,"-" the desire also of the wicked shall perish;" and if both his hope and his desire perish, what becomes of himself? The answer of the Bible is sufficient:"The wicked is driven away in his wickedness"-he "shall go away into everlasting punishment!"

We are constrained, however painful the duty, to address many of our hearers as persons living in sin

and totally unfit to die. God forbid that you should be of this number; at least that you should continue in this state! Awake to serious reflection. Consider the misery in which you lie, and the danger to which you are exposed. Implore the mercy of Jehovah, through Jesus Christ. Flee to this Friend of sinners, as your only Refuge. "Repent, and believe the gospel."

There are others who make a general profession of religion, who are neither so careless nor so wicked as some of their neighbours, but are not religious characters. It is probable there are some such here: in your spirit, you are worldly; in your disposition, earthly and sensual; you are not men of prayer, and can hardly deceive yourselves so much as to imagine that you are men of piety. But you must die! the great event of death awaits you. And "how will you do in the swelling of Jordan?" Will the world help you? Will its pleasures and pursuits relieve you? Just the reverse! If you enter this river as worldly characters, its swell will be fearfully great, its violence you cannot withstand, you will be "drowned in destruction and perdition.'

Professors of religion, beware of the world. We admonish you faithfully of its fascinating snares, and its deadly influence. Remember what it did for Demas, for Judas, for Simon Magus, and for multitudes beside. The world has slain its thousands and its tens of thousands. It has you in its power, and unless rescued by the omnipotence of Grace you will sink in remediless ruin.

Some have more than a general profession of religion; their pretensions are so fair, and so plausible, that by men they are deemed Christians, but may not be such in the sight of God: in his allpiercing eye, the most specious professors may be hypocrites and deceivers; and "how will they do in the swelling of Jordan?" The case of such a man is per