of death, and to cross the swellings of Jordan, ere they could tread the shores of the heavenly Canaan. Even the Son of God himself, before he was crowned with glory and honour, suffered the agonies of death-the accursed death of the tree, and was entombed in the new sepulchre of Joseph of Arimathea.

The

There is no war, however protracted and sanguinary, in which a truce is not admitted. contending parties, worn down by fatigue, and having their ranks thinned by the sword, ask of each other repose, before the conflict is renewed. At other times, tired with the struggle, and disgusted with scenes of carnage and of blood, they propose terms of peace, and withdraw from the murderous field. But death is a cruel tyrant; his thirst of conquest is insatiable; he never says "It is enough!" but rides forth, in all the pomp and pride of victory, conquering, and to conquer. He cuts down successive generations of mankind, without any distinction of age, rank, or clime.

There are few warriors so void of the common feelings of humanity, as not to be moved by the tears of the vanquished, or the suppliant intreaties of a fallen enemy. History has recorded some remarkable instances of noble generosity on the part of conquerors. But death is inexorable. He is not to be restrained by infant cries, nor by

beauty's tears, nor by manly eloquence, nor by the sage importunity of hoary age. Like those barbarians who, in former times, laid waste the sweetest fields of nature, and wantonly demolished the finest specimens of art, to complete their savage triumphs; he robs the world of its brightest ornaments, and cuts off its fairest hopes. While he hurls his shafts at the sons of decrepitude, ignorance, and poverty, he blasts the bloom of youth, and the flowers of genius, and dashes at his feet the crowns of royalty. Xerxes, after destroying all the temples of Greece, spared that of Diana, on account of the elegance of its structure: and yet no qualification, either of person or of mind, can move the unpitying eye, or turn away the scythe of death.

"Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow;

A blow which, while it executes, alarms
And startles thousands with a single fall.
As when some stately growth of oak, or pine,
Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her shade,
The sun's defiance, and the flock's defence,
By the strong strokes of lab'ring hinds subdu'd,
Loud groans her last, and rushing from her height,
In cumbrous ruin thunders to the ground;
The conscious forest trembles at the shock,
And hill, and stream, and distant dale resound."

While death is unsparing and relentless, he is also invincible in his attacks. There are many evils which we may successfully resist, or carefully

avoid. We read of some renowned worthies 66 who subdued kingdoms; stopped the mouths of lions; quenched the violence of fire; escaped the edge of the sword; waxed valiant in fight; turned to flight the armies of the aliens." And yet, in vain we attempt to grapple with the power, or elude the pursuit, of the last enemy. "Strong as death, and cruel as the grave," is a proverbial expression; and he who would enter on the conflict must find his resistance impotent. "There is no man hath power over the spirit, to retain the spirit; neither hath he power in the day of death." Infidelity and profligacy may assume a tone of defiance, and jest unseemly with the solemnities of a funeral scene, and an opening sepulchre; but their swelling words of vanity will soon be silenced, and their music turned into the voice of mourning. Many instruments have been invented, and modes of stratagem, or of defence, have been adopted, to stay the progress of the conquering hero, and defeat his bold and daring enterprises. But death laughs at the shaking of the spear; and proudly sets at nought all that nature or art could oppose to his triumphs. His designs are not to be thwarted by the subtlety of the politician; or the force of marshalled armies; or the entrenchments and fortifications of ancient cities. Veiled by the curtains of an impalpable immateriality, he passes unseen through every obstacle, and seizing, with iron hand, his victim,

obliges him to exclaim, "Thou hast found me, O mine enemy!"

Uncertainty is attached to all human warfare. He that wins to-day in the field of slaughter, and wears the laurel of victory, may to-morrow be routed by the enemy, and become his captive in chains. Hence, in the Roman triumphs, it was the custom for the conquering General, as he rode in state through the metropolis of his country, amidst the shouts of teeming multitudes, with the chief of his enemies bound in fetters to the wheels of his chariot, to have a slave running at his side with this corrective of his glory"Look behind thee, and, in the persons of thine enemies, learn that thou thyself art a man subject to the same casualties and dishonours with others!" The success of a battle depends on so many contingencies, which no human prudence could foresee or guard against, that the wise are frequently taken in their own craftiness, and the mighty men are vanquished. But the war of Death is never doubtful. He marches with sure step, laden with the spoils of the conqueror, and exulting in the certainty of his aim. Those who never fought but to conquer, have themselves been subdued by this insatiable foe.

Whither, then, shall the sinner turn in the day of visitation? or how shall he escape the righteous

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indignation of the God of heaven? No policy can evade the piercing eye of omniscience. Like a flame of fire, or like a meridian sunbeam, it penetrates the thickest gloom, and throws its light on the hidden things of darkness. "Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee." Although we seek concealment in the clefts of the rock, or in dens and caves of the earth; although we cry to the mountains, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb; we cannot elude the vigilance of that Being, who "looketh on the earth, and it trembleth: who toucheth the hills, and they smoke."

"Death lurks in ambush; Death, without a name,
Shall pluck thee from the pinnacle of fame;

At eve rejoicing o'er thy finish'd toil,
Thy soul shall deem the universe her spoil;
The dawn shall see thy carcase cast away,
The wolves, at sun-rise, slumber on their prey.