DISCOURSE VII.

MIZPAH.

"And Mizpah; for he said, the Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another." GEN. XXXI: 49.

Any person who reads the book of Genesis, even n a cursory way, cannot fail to remark the sentinents of piety and gratitude in which it abounds. t is descriptive of an early period in the history of ur race, when the simplest manners prevailed. Even in those days there were cunning men; for the eautiful sentiment of the text was uttered by La an, who had given fearful proofs of unrighteousless. But at the time referred to, such persons vere seldom found, in comparison with the present; nd even they were obliged to affect artlessness in heir habits. In that age, Government was simple; ut now it has become complex. Manners were dicated by the heart; but now they are conformed to tandards entirely artificial-in which outward pro

Tession prevails over inward homages. In looking at the advances and over-actings of a concrete refinement which now prevails, one is almost tempted to wish that the patriarchal age could be recalled, that we might taste those social pleasures which would be free from the alloy of insincerity, and that men might speak all they feel, and feel all they speak. Then would that lost and golden age be revived, which poets have so often celebrated, and of which the imagination still loves to dream.

Jacob, after laborious services, had escaped from Padan Aram; but had been overtaken by Laban, his kinsman, in Mount Galeed, near Hermon. The particulars of the interview are given; but it is not necessary to repeat them in this congregation, for no doubt they are fresh on your minds. An altercation, indeed, would, probably, have taken place between the parties; but the Lord had composed the irritated mind of Laban before he got sight of the caravan of Jacob after which he had set out in the very hottest haste. All hearts are subject to Divine control. The passion of a man may resemble the wave that lashes the shore; but under Divine management, it may die away, and leave in its place some harmless shell. Thus Laban retired, after the settlement of a long family feud, and went back to his flocks. Jacob kept on his way; but they had, before their separation, entered into a covenant,

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or stipulation, to keep the peace. Laban seems to have played a deep game to the last of this transaction; and we fear that when he called the heap of stones by the name of Mizpah, or watch-tower, that he had not lost his peculiarly selfish views. He probably alluded, in the seemingly pious views of the text, to some suspicion that Jacob might pass that pillar, or heap, with a view to his injury; whereas, Jacob had been the injured party. But the Christian can, in a delightful sense, adopt our text in all his separations, and say-the Lord watch between me and thee whilst absence shall continue. We propose to make a practical use of this sweet and engaging passage, in which we recognize a Providence that watches over us wherever we go, or wherever we stay. To this end let me ask your devout attention whilst we try to illustrate the following simple propositions:

1st. Separations tender and touching-are continually taking place among men.

2d. There is a Power competent to control all consequences which may arise from such separations. 3d. It is our duty to acknowledge our dependence on that power; and

Lastly, What is implied in our recognition of that dependence? And may the Spirit of all Grace be with us when we speak, and with you when you hear ; and thus, if there be any stream of comfort in the

text, it will find its way into those cisterns which your faith may hold out in this sanctuary of the Lord.

In returning, then, upon these views, we remark, that separations among men occur every day. We have no allusion here to the many which are mentioned in history. Socrates parted from his pupils; Lady Jane Grey from her husband; Mary, Queen of Scots, from her servants; Lord Russell from his wife; Charles I. from his son; Louis XVI. and Marshal Ney from their families; Washington from his officers, and Napoleon from his Generals, under circumstances peculiarly affecting. Nor do we allude, here, to that multitude of martyrs who have taken leave of their families at the dungeon, or at the stake. In the reign of Queen Mary, John Rodgers was followed to the stake by his weeping family; but his courage was not at all shaken. We could cite your attention to a thousand touching incidents, from the records of martyrology, in which resignation to the Divine Will has been displayed; but my allusion is to the ordinary intercourse of life, and to that partial rending, which so often takes place, of ties entwined about our hearts.

It has pleased our Creator to establish among us a variety of pleasing connexions, which are the source of great happiness, mingled, however, with frequent pain. The most interesting of these, is

that of husband and wife-a relation treated of most solemnly in the Bible. The vocation of the one frequently calls him from home; and it is more immediately his duty to provide for that household of which he is the constituted chief. To the one belong the outward toils of life- the din of business, and that tumult of the passions which results from self-interest. Self-interest among men often hushes the voice of conscience; and the adjustment of worldly affairs leads multitudes into temptation and danger. The husband may belong to the Army of his country, and his duties may lead him into climates unpropitious to health and life. He may be exposed on the day of battle, or he may be stretched on his bed of hair, or wrapped in such blankets as soldiers use; or he may be borne bleeding from that field, on which he has plucked a laurel at the cannon's mouth. Or his vocation may be to plough the distant waves, and wrestle with giant billows on the mountains of the sea. His lonely barqe may, at times, skim over the summer ocean, and touch the strand of islands from which fragrance rolls; but, peradventure, he may face the storm, and be left all alone on the wreck which that storm has created. These are not the creations of a morbid fancy, but realities, known to exist, and the power of which is felt every day. Now, if Leonidas and his consort parted with a tenderness that