Will it be thus?

last sacrament?

Ought it to be thus, at our

If so, there may be something, there ought to be much, of this realizing sense of eternity, at every sacrament. Any one, even the next, may be our last.

But, however many "solemn feasts may be between us and the " marriage-supper of the Lamb" in heaven, each of them has the same connexion with heaven as the last will have. And, as the last may, from our extreme weakness, or extreme pain, be any thing but a "time of refreshing," it becomes, yea, it behoves us, to try at the next, and at every subsequent sacrament, how much we can connect it with heaven and eternity. The mind cannot, indeed, throw itself, even by an effort, so far "within the veil," as the immediate prospect and pressure of death will throw it. We cannot force such glimpses of eternity, as the approach of death forces upon us. cannot command that entire and intense concentration of spirit in the house of God, which is so natural, though inevitable, in the house of mourning, at the moment the mourning begins. There, and then, without effort, and

We

even without intention, we find ourselves absorbed with eternal things. The departure of one spirit into the invisible world, displaces, for a time, this world, in all the spirits present. The unclothed soul cannot rise more rapidly to the throne of God, even if borne on angels' wings, than the thoughts and feelings of survivors rush into the realization of meeting God. Their spirits are "naked and open," too, before God, although in another sense for at this solemn moment they heed nothing, and hear nothing, of all that is "under the sun.”

On such occasions, the soul asserts its own immortality, and springs at once into its own. element, in spite of all the temporal considerations which may be around it. Neither grief nor gain can materialize it, for a time. Its freedom and force may not last long; but there is an immortal energy about them, for a little, that makes the body feel that its limits are too narrow, and its breathing too slow, for the full action of a fully conscious spirit.

When we come from such a scene to the first sacrament after it, this absorbing consciousness of our immortality, although soft

ened and tranquillized by the interval, is yet so vital and vivid, that it gives to that sacrament much of the aspect of a last one. Deep thoughts of our own death, mingle with our sweetest recollections of the Saviour's death. We communicate for eternity. There is an air of eternity about the sanctuary, and about ourselves too. Our sympathizing friends feel the 66 unction," as well as the weight, that is on our spirit. For it is not their sense of our loss alone, that so readily and fully harmonizes their looks and tones with our own, when they meet us for the first time, after we come from the house of mourning to the house of God, That holy and solemn awe which breathes in all their manner towards as, is chiefly derived from us. They feel that we have been so near the eternal world, that any thing not solemn, would be as unkind to our seriousness as to our sorrow. They know that we went so far down into "the swellings of Jordan," with the spirit which so recently passed through them, that they look as if they saw drops of the cold and dark waters still hanging upon us. And we, too, feel, however soothed or recon

ciled, that it would be a kind of sacrilege even to smile, for a time.

These familiar facts prove, not that it is possible, or even desirable, to communicate in this spirit always; but that it is possible, and therefore desirable, to cultivate so much of a realizing sense of eternity, that each sacrament may have an express reference to it. And this, each may have, as well as the last, without at all overcasting or overstraining the mind. Our first did neither; and yet it was very solemn.

The form of these remarks is very defective, or the design of them is sadly misunderstood, if they seem to inculcate the necessity or the desirableness of an habitual awe on the spirit, equal to that we have just contemplated. The spirit could not sustain such a load, long. It would "fail" under the strain and pressure of habitual concentration. Indeed, any concentration of its thoughts and feelings, which would unfit us for the ordinary duties of life and godliness, is to be deprecated. We were not made, nor yet redeemed, for thinking only, nor for feeling only. Thinking deeply,

for the sake of thought; or feeling deeply. "lust of

for the sake of emotion, is oftener a the mind," than a grace of the Holy Spirit. And, in the case of that, almost convulsive excitement, which is produced by the shock, or the fear, of death, there is little or no religion in it. It takes place, in almost all its forms and force, where there is no religion at all. Even some of our domestic animals are overwhelmed by the loss of their young.

Nothing, therefore, can be farther from my design, than to represent "the power of godliness," as an overpowering emotion, or even as powerful excitement. Indeed, one grand feature of it is,-power over all excess both of thought and feeling. The foregoing references to our final sacrament, and to the first one after bereavement, are intended, therefore, not to bring up, at every sacrament, all the feelings peculiar to these extraordinary occasions; but to bring out of that chaos of feeling, the light of eternity which pervades it; and to embody that light in an orb which shall shine as calmly, and constantly, and brightly, on the sacramental table, as the lamps of the temple shone