SERMON XIV. PSALM XCIV. 19. IN THE MULTITUDE OF SORROWS, WHICH I HAD IN MY HEART, THY MERCIES HAVE REFRESHED MY SOUL. THIS pfalm is fupposed to have been written by David; who, though a great king, had felt as many forrows in his heart as most men. Sorrow, you fee then belongs to all stations of life. We are affured in scripture, that all mankind are born to trouble, as the sparks fly upwards. If the .poor feel diftreffes from having too little; the rich feel them as often, and perhaps more keenly, from having too much. Abundance creates unfatisfied defires; and unfatisfied defires produce painful disappointments. Where there there are great poffeffions, there will be frequent lofs. While the poor are more moderate in their defires; and having little, have less to lose. Diseases are incident to all and if we live into old age, infirmities and disorders ftare us in the face; the certain fignals of our approaching dif folution. From all these causes such a variety of evils flow in upon us, that every man occafionally feels a multitude of forrows in his heart. As we are all therefore, more or less, the children of forrow, it is a great happiness to have fomething, as the Pfalmift says, to refresh our fouls. For though our forrow makes a part of our state of trial; and is of great service to us, as I endeavoured to fhew you in a late difcourse; yet still our heavenly Father allows us to take all proper means of mitigating it. I fhall recommend to you, therefore, the holy Pfalmift's example on this occafion; and fhew you, how you may refresh your fouls, in the multitude of your forrows, as he advifes you, by the mercies of God. The worldly man indeed hath no dependence on these mercies. He acts, as if this world was his only fource of confolation. He finds all his comforts in it; and has no idea of any happiness, but what it provides. And no doubt there are great comforts in this world; and the grateful man will always thank his heavenly Father for them. But if God provide us ftill better comforts, we are furely very improvident, if we do not take them alfo into the account. Though our earthly comforts are good in their kind; it is furely too much to confider them as fully fufficient to make us happy even in this world. They are, in the first place, attended with unquietnefs, and disappointment; fomething unpoffeffed, which feldom makes them what we expected. Then again, the poffeffion of them is infecure. Some unforeseen accident may arife, which, depriving us of one poffeffion after another, may, in the end, leave us nothing to refresh our fouls.But if the good things of this world could be fecured to us even till death; what then? Do we look for nothing farther? We cannot take the comforts of this world out of the world with us; and as we have fouls to be provided for, we fee, without fome comforts of a fpiritual kind, there will be a great want of provifion ftill.-Let us then examine with holy David, what the mercies of God will do for us: let us fee what these mercies are-what fpiritual comforts they will afford us in our diftreffes or or in David's words, what refreshment they will give our fouls. THE first mercy then which we receive from God Almighty, is our creation-the plain, fimple fact, that God made us.- Now, in what way fhould this mercy, in the multitude of our forrows, refresh our fouls?—Why thus. Can you conceive that God Almighty would call you into being create fo many things around you for ufe-and then throw you afide, your and take no farther notice of you? Can you conceive, that he would create a thing, without any farther defign, than merely to create it; and then dismiss all concern about it? It is impious to believe it. You have the comfort therefore of fuppofing, that one mercy will insure another. So that in all your forrows, you may take it for granted, that that God, who created you, has you ftill in his eye-that he will still take care of you—that whatever diftreffes are laid upon you, are meant for your good-and that he will never forfake you, if you never forfake him. THIS comfort is farther infured by your prefervation. Your continual prefervation is a mercy, mercy, which comes ftill nearer home. You experience it every time you draw your breath. In him you live, and move, and have your being. If he taketh away your breath, you die, and are turned again to your duft. Not a Sparrow, you read, falleth to the ground, without God's permiffion. Even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. If then God thus continually preserves you, you are assured, that every thing that befals you happens through him; and have a still farther confolation, that all your afflictions are of his fending-unless indeed you draw them upon yourselves by your own vices and follies; then indeed the cafe is different; and you must thank yourselves for the mischief-but if your afflictions are of God's fending, your continual prefervation gives you new ground for believing they must be right.— How ought you then, in the multitude of your forrows, to refresh your fouls with this mercy? You are not only under the general government of God, as a part of his creation; but, you fee, every one of you is under his particular care, THIS confolation is ftill farther enforced by many inftances of God's goodness, which most of you probably have experienced peculiar to yourfelves |