No. II.

THE POSSIBILITY OF REALIZING ETERNITY.

WHILST there is nothing we more readily admit than the grandeur and solemnity of eternity, there is, perhaps, nothing we are more reluctant to dwell on. We have, indeed, no objection to hear, occasionally, a well-timed and solemn-toned appeal to the awful realities of eternity; nor do we dislike those occasional gleams of it which flash upon our spirit when we are communing with God in prayer. We are rather pleased, than otherwise, to feel, now and then, that we are not insensible to the glories of heaven, and the terrors of hell, nor altogether uninfluenced by them. Indeed, we should question both the soundness and the sincerity of our faith, if it never realized" the

things which are unseen and eternal," except when it was forced to do so by ministerial and providential appeals. Thus the subject has upon its side our understanding entirely, and our conscience too in no small degree.

This is, so far, well. It does not, however, disprove the assertion, that we are reluctant to cultivate realizing views of eternity. Deliberate efforts to acquire and keep up a solemn sense of eternal things are very rare; and not at all equal, in kind or degree, to the efforts we make in order to maintain a becoming sense of the evil of sin, and the necessity of holiness. We are even afraid of an abiding impression of eternity; and suspect, if not believe, that it would throw a gloom over life, and turn seriousness into sadness. This lurking suspicion is not dislodged, nor much shaken, even when we remember that it is on the bright side of the pillar of eternity we are invited to dwell. We cannot forget that it has a dark side too, which may turn upon us oftener than we should like. And we see, with some clearness, that

even on its bright side, we should be kept more

familiar with death than we wish to be at pre

sent. We can hardly conceive it possible to think much of eternity, without thinking too much about death; they are so closely associated in our minds. The latter appears to us the dark shadow of the former, even when the former is brightest.

Thus there is against the habit of looking daily to eternal things, all the natural and acquired force of our love of life, and of our fear of death. The claims of immortality present themselves to us, pointing to the grave, and muttering our mortality. We believe that Jesus Christ brought immortality to light; but, somehow, we feel that it is the king of terrors who holds up the prospect to us. Our "last enemy," rather than our best friend, is most seen, in connexion with our glimpses of the invisible world.

There are also causes of reluctance, which are more discreditable to us. We see, at a glance, that an habitual sense of eternity would impose and compel more self-denial, or selfcontrol, or self-examination, than we altogether like. We feel, instinctively, that certain tem

pers and tendencies, if not some habits also, would require great and immediate improvements, if they were confronted from day to day with the claims of Heaven. Every aspect of immortality is so full of solemn protests against all compromises with the flesh and the world, that even the most exemplary cannot but see clearly, and feel deeply, that they are not altogether that manner of persons" which, as heirs of immortality, they ought to be.

These are not imaginary nor slight causes of that shrinking from the realization of eternity which is so common. We are eagle-eyed in discerning how a habit of realizing it would bring all our habits-public, domestic, and secret-under solemn revision and stricter discipline; and thus, whatever is bad in our nature and character, as well as all that is weak in them, is averse to the duty, because it involves so many other duties.

It is this, much more than the difficulty of forming clear views of invisible realities, that prevents us from looking often to the things which are unseen and eternal. There are,

indeed, mental hinderances, but they are neither so many nor so great as the moral hinderances. This is self-evident from the single fact, that we understand enough of the nature both of heaven and hell, to make and keep us intent upon reaching the former and escaping the latter. Our knowledge of them is not so dim nor indefinite, as to prevent us from prizing the great salvation. Were we, therefore, as intent upon present deliverance from all wrong habits and tempers, as upon future escape from the wrath to come, we should find our knowledge quite as sufficient to induce greater holiness, as it is to endear the Cross. It looks ill, therefore, when we, who never complain, nor pretend, that our views of eternity are either too few or feeble to endear the atonement, pretend that we know too little of it to live under its direct influence. This does not tell well. That which binds us to the Cross, notwithstanding all its mysteries and all its odium, could not fail, if equally applied to universal holiness, to bind us to it also. Besides, (and let the fact prevent for ever, in our case, all