Christians, of every capacity, It is high time, to awake! Shake yourselves from the dust of spiritual sloth,--of carnal care,-of slavish fear, and gird on, the whole armour of righteousness. How many are dying around you! With how many, is this the last hour! Have you done what you could, for the salvation of your household, your children, your servants, your neighbours;--yea, all around you? Remember, the solemn account you are to give,---one day; of the improvement of all opportunities,-time, talents, &c. for doing good. Will not those of your domestics that have ever, turned at your beck, and that have never dared to disobey your word,-be witnesses against you, in a future world, That, notwithstanding the influence you had over them, and the advantages so vastly superior,--you had done no more, for their salvation? Oh! will not many a Dives, hereafter, be thrust down to Hell;---while a Lazarus, despised, sick, and poor, will be borne of Angels, to Abraham's bosom?

Hypocrites will be greatly tried at such a time as this. Now will they be confounded, who love not the Lord Jesus in sincerity. Their masks will fall off, when death, in terrific form shall invade them; then, as the foolish virgins,---too late, they will begin to cry, "Give us of your oil, our lamps have gone out!" "But the true disciples of the Lord, will be ready, when the midnight cry is made, (even many, that never assumed the name of Christian,) and shall go in to the marriage supper of the Lamb;-while these, shall cry without, "Open unto us," in vain. Multitudes, are as whited sepulchres,

that appear beautiful without;-but are within, full of dead men's bones, and all uncleanness. Covetousness, constitutes vast numbers, "hypocrites" of the highest order. Notwithstanding, their great pretences to holiness, they are "idolaters,"—and an abominations in the sight of God. Let them not pass this over, as though it were a slight of fence;---but take warning, and "Beware of covetousness!" Lest the things, their souls lusted after, should sink them, with the mercilsss glutton,---to behold the boundless riches, and unfading treasures of Heaven,-sold for every vanity, and so, at last, gone forever.

Mourners, in towns and cities, (vast numbers) that go about the streets, have seen their households, torn asunder! Awful separations have been made! A bosom friend is gone, a lovely child, an indulgent parent, a kind brother, and "All, is gloomy solitude!" "All, is as death!" "The fullstrown, silent grave-yard," says the parent, the mother, contains all, that was once dear to me, below!" "The sun, of my earthly joys, has gone down-never to rise again!"-Mourner, "hope thou in God, and thou shall yet praise Him!" He doth not willingly afflict, nor grieve the children of men,---but to make them partakers, of far superior comforts. He hath given you, thus far support;that your body, is out of the grave;---and your soul is out of Hell. Be thankful, for the least of His mercies:-He still, careth for you. The loss of your friends, you deeply deplore;-but remember, if they died in Christ-To die was gain. If you had not that evidence, of their interest in the Lord

Jesus, that you desired;-you know not, what mighty change was wrought in them, at the last hour; or even, with the last expiring breath. The pains, intolerable, they then endured,-which were of short duration,-were perhaps the last, the only suffering, they will ever know. You are left, behind, desolate to weep;-but, dry your tears. Be dilligent, to have your work done, below-and well done. Then, in a little while,-though your kindred, return not to you, you will surely go to them:

And in-Salem's fair, and happy land;
You'll no more take the parting hand."

HYMN,

Written by the late Bishop of Calcutta, and sung at Whittington Church, (England) on occasion of his preaching there, for the "Church Missionary Society,-1820.

1. From, Greenland's Icy Mountains;
From, India's choral strand;
Where, Afric's sunny fountains,
Roll down, their golden sand.
From, many an ancient river;
From, many a palmy plain;
They call us, to deliver,
Their land, from error's chain,

2. (What, though, the spicy breezes,
Blow, soft, o'er Ceylon's Isle:
Though, every prospect pleases;
And only, man, is vile.

In vain, with lavish kindness,
The gifts, of God are strown;
The Heathen, in their blindness,
Bow, down, to wood and stone.)

3. Shall we, whose souls are lighted,
By wisdom, from on high;
Shall we, to man benighted,
The lamp of life, deny?
Salvation! O Salvation!
The joyful sound, proclaim;
Till each, remotest nation,
Has learn'd, Messiah's Name.

4. Waft, waft, ye winds, His story,
And you, ye waters, roll;
Till like a sea of glory,

It spreads, from pole to pole.
Till, o'er our ransom'd nature,
The Lamb, for sinners slain;
Redeemer, King, Creator,
In bliss, returns to reign.

HYMN, II.

1. O'er, the gloomy hills, of darkness;
Look, my soul, be still and gaze!
All, the promises do travel,
With a glorious day of grace.
Blessed Jubilee,-

U

Let, thy glorious morning, dawn.

2. Let the Indian, let the Negro, "
Let the rude Barbarian, see;
That, divine and glorious conquest,
Once obtain'd, on Calvary.
Let the Gospel,-

Loud resound, from pole to pole!

3. Kingdoms wide, that sit in darkness, Grant them, Lord, the glorious light: And from eastern coast, to western, May the brightness, chase the night. Chase the darkness;

From their long benighted eyes!

4. Fly abroad, thou mighty Gospel,
Win, and conquer, never cease:
So Immanuel's, fair dominions,
Shall extend, and still increase.
Till the Kingdoms,-

Of the world, are all his own.

THE END.