of God to bathe and swim in from time to time; and supposing that the river means the Spirit of God, as I believe really it does, why then the streams that flow from this river are the means of grace, the ordinances of God, which God makes use of as channels, whereby to convey his blessed Spirit to the soul. Nay, by the river we may understand, God himself, who is the believer's river, the Three-one, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. This river is in the midst of the city, not at the courtend of the town only, or one corner, or end, but quite through, in a variety of streams, so that high and low may come to it for supply; and not only be supported, but have their hearts made glad daily thereby. God help us to drink afresh of this river. If this be the case, well may David triumph and say, "glorious things are spoken of the city of God;" are spoken of her, in the feminine gender. The church is spoken of in that sense, because Eve, the first woman, was the mother of all believers; we may apply this to a single saint, as well as to a community under trouble, she shall not be moved. Not moved? Pray, would you have them stupid? Do you love when you strike a child, to see it hardened and regardless? Do you not like the child should smart under it and cry, and when it is a little penitent, you almost wish you had not struck it at all. God expects, when he strikes, that we should be moved; and there is not a greater sign in a reprobate heart of a soul given over by God, than to have affliction upon affliction, and yet come like a fool brayed in a mortar, unmoved and hardened. My brethren, this is the worst sign of a man or woman being given over by God. Jesus was moved, when he was under the rod; he cries, "father! if it be possible let this cup pass from me!" He was moved so as to shed tears, tears of blood, falling to the ground. Wo, wo, wo be to us, if when God knocks at the door by some shocking domestic or foreign trial, we do not say, my God! my God! wherefore dost thou strike? When we are sick, we allow physicians to feel our pulse, whether it be high or languid; and when we are sick, and tried with affliction, it is time to feel our pulse, to see if we were not going into a high fever, and do not want some salutary purge. It is expected therefore that we should be moved; we may speak, but not in a murmuring way. Job was moved, and God knows when we are under the rod; we are all moved more than we ought to be in a wrong way; but when it is said here, she shall not be moved, it implies not totally removed; "perplexed," says the apostle, "but not in despair: persecuted, but not forsaken: cast down, but not destroyed:" therefore removal means destruction; when the earth is moved, the mountains shake, and the waters roar, where

can we flee? what can we see but destruction all around us? But, my brethren, since there is a river, the streams whereof make glad the city of God, since God is our refuge, since God is our strength, since God is our help, since God is a present help, since God is a very present help in time of trouble, since God is in the midst of her, since God causes the streams to make her glad, blessed be God, we shall not, my brethren, be totally moved, nay, though death itself does remove our bodies, though the king of terrors, that grisly king, should come armed with all his shafts, yet, "in the midst of death we are in life," even then we shall not be moved, even though the body is removed in sleep, the soul is gone where it shall be sorrowful no more. One would have imagined that David had said enough, but pray observe how he goes on, he repeats it again, for when we are in an unbelieving frame, we have need of line upon line, words upon words; God shall help her; ah! but when? when? when will he help her? when will he help her? Why, right early: God shall help her, and that right early. Why, sometimes we knock for a friend, but he will not get up early in the morning, but God shall help us, and that right early in the morning. Ah! but, say you, I have been under trouble a long while; why, God's morning is not come you said right early; yes, but you are not yet prepared for it, you must wait till the precious right moment comes, and you may be assured of it. God never gives you one doubt more than you want, or even defers help one moment longer than it ought to be.

Now my dear hearers, if these things are so, who dares call the christian a madman? If these things are so, who would but be a believer? who would not be a faithful follower of the Son of God? My brethren, did you ever hear any of the devil's children compose an ode, that the devil is our refuge; the God of this world, whom we have served so heartily we have found to be a present help in time of trouble? Ah! a present help to help us after the devil: or did you ever hear, since the creation, of one single man that dared to say that all the fortysixth psalm was founded on a lie? No, it is founded on matters of fact, and therefore believer, believer, I wish you joy, although it is a tautology. I pray God, that from this time forth till we die, you and I, when under trouble, may say with Luther, come let us sing the forty-sixth psalm. As for you that are wicked, what shall I you in high spirits to-night? Has curiosity brought you here to hear what the babbler has to say on a funeral occasion? Well, I am glad to see you here, though I have scarce strength to speak for the violence of the heat, yet I pray God to magnify

say

to you

? Are

his strength in my weakness; and may the God of all mercy overrule curiosity for good to you. I intend to speak about his death to the surviving friends; but my dear hearers, the grand intention of having the funeral sermon to-night, is to teach the living how to die. Give me leave to tell you, that however brisk you may be now, there will be a time come when you will want God to be your help. Some pulpit may ere long be hung in mourning for you: the black, the dreary appendages of death may ere long be brought to your home; and if you move in a high sphere, some such escutcheon as this, some achievement may be placed at your door, and wo, wo, wo be to those who in an hour of death cannot say, God is my refuge. You may form schemes as you please; after you have been driven out of one fool's paradise, you may retreat into another; you may say, now I will sing a requiem to my heart, and now I shall have some pleasant seasons; but if God loves you he will knock off your hands from that, you shall have thorns even in roses, and it will embitter your comforts. O what will you do when the elements shall melt with fervent heat; when this earth, with all its fine furniture, shall be burnt up; when the archangel shall cry, time shall be no more? Whither, then, ye wicked ones, ye unconverted ones, will ye flee for refuge? O, says one, I will fly to the mountains. O silly fool, O silly fool, fly to the mountains, that are themselves to be burnt up and moved. O, says you, I will flee to the sea. O you fool, that will be boiling like a pot. O then I will flee to the elements. They will be melting with fervent heat. I can scarce bear this hot day, and how can you bear a hot element? There is no fan there, not a drop of water to cool your tongue. Will you fly to the moon? That will be turned into blood. Will you stand by one of the stars? They will fall away. I know but one place you can go to, that is to the devil; God keep you from that! Happy they that draw this inference; since every thing else will be a refuge of lies. God help me from this moment, God help me to make God my refuge! Here you can never fail; your expectations here can never be raised too high; but if you stop short of this, as the Lord liveth, in whose name I speak, you will only be a sport for devils; a day of judgment will be no day of refuge to you; you will only be summoned like a criminal that has been cast already, to the bar to receive the dreadful sentence, "Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." There is no river to make glad the inhabitants of hell; no streams to cool them in that scorching element. Were those who are in hell to have such an offer of mercy as you have, how would their chains rattle! how would they come

with the flames of hell about their ears! how would they rejoice even there, if a minister was to tell them, come, come, after you have been here millions and millions of years, there shall come a river here, to make you glad. But the day is over; God help us to take warning; and oh! with what gratitude should we approach him to-night, for bearing with, and for forbearing us so long; let each say to-night, why am I out of hell? How came I not to be damned, when I have made every thing else my God, my refuge, for so many years? May goodness lead every unconverted soul to repentance, and may love constrain us to obedience: fly, fly, God help thee to fly, sinner. Hark! hear the word of the Lord, see the world consumed, the avenger of blood, this grim death, is just at thy heels, and if thou dost not at this moment take refuge in God, to-night, before to-morrow, you may be damned for ever; the arms of Jesus yet lie open, his loving heart yet streams with love, and bids a hearty welcome to every poor soul that is seeking happiness in God. May God grant that every unconverted soul may be of the happy number.

But my brethren, the most heavy task of this night yet lies unperformed; indeed, if my friendship for the deceased did not lead me to it, I should pray to be excused, my body is so weak, my nerves so unstrung, and the heat beats too intensely on this tottering frame, for me to give such a vent to my affections, as I am sure I should give if I were in vigorous health. You may easily see, though I have not made that application, with what design I have chosen this Psalm; you may easily see by the turn, (I hope no unnatural one,) that has been given to the text as we have passed along, that I have had in my view a mournful widow here before me. Did I think, when this black furniture was taken from the pulpit, when two branches were lopt off within about a year, one after another, both lopt off from on earth, I hope and believe to be planted for ever in heaven, little did I think that the ax was in a few months to be laid to the root of the father; little did I think that this pulpit was then to be hung in mourning for the dear, the generous, the valuable, the universally benevolent, Mr. Beckman; a benefactor to every body, a benefactor to the Tabernacle; he has largely contributed both to the Chapel and Tabernacle, and, my dear hearers, now his works follow him, for he is gone beyond the grave.

Such a singular circumstance, I believe, rarely happens, that though I was last night at near eleven o'clock dead almost with heat, I thought if death was the consequence, I would go to the grave and have the last look at my dear departed friend; to see a new vault opened; to see a place of which he has

been, in a great measure, the founder; to see a place which he was enlarging at the very time he died; to see a new vault there first inhabited by the father, and two only sons, and all put there in the space of two years' time; oh! it was almost too much for me, it weighed me down, it kept me in my bed all this day; and now I have risen, God grant it may be to give a seasonable word to your souls. Oh! my friends, put yourselves in the state of a surviving widow, and then see who is secure from cutting providences. The very children when they are young are a trial; but the young man for whom a handsome fortune awaited; for a tender loving father to have his son taken away; for the widow to have her husband taken away soon after; indeed, dear madam, you had need read the forty-sixth Psalm; you may well say, "call me no more Naomi," that signifies pleasant, "but call me Marah, for the Lord hath dealt bitterly with me." These are strokes that are not always given to the greatest saints. Such sudden strokes, such blow upon blow; oh! if God is not a strength and refuge, how can the believer support under it? But blessed be the living God, I am a witness God has been your strength; I am witness that God has been your refuge; you have found, I know you have, already, that there is a river, a river in which you have swam now for some years, the streams whereof make glad your waiting hearts. Surely I shall never forget the moment in which I visited your deceased husband, when the hiccoughs came and death was supposed to be really come, to see the disconsolate widow flying out of the room unable to bear the sight of a departing husband. I know that God was then your refuge, and God will continue to be your refuge. You are now God's peculiar care, and as a proof that you will make God your refuge, you have chosen to make your first appearance in the house of God, in the Tabernacle, where I hope God delights to dwell, and where you met with God, and which I hope you will never leave till God removes you hence. Whatever trials await you, remember you are now become God's peculiar care. You had before a husband to plead for you; he is gone, but your pleader is not dead, he lives and will plead your cause; may you find him better to you than ten thousand husbands; may he make up the awful chasm that death has made, and may the Lord God be your refuge in time, and your portion to all eternity; and then you will have a blessed change. You are properly a Naomi: I would humbly hope that your daughter-in-law, which so lately met with a stroke of the same nature, will prove a Ruth to you, and though young and having a fortune, she may be tempted to take a walk in the world, yet I hope she will say, "where