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away from among the wicked, and the restraints now reluctantly submitted to, would be quickly spurned and forgotten; and bold and rapid would be the general advance in wickedness. If, with the multitude of the orderly and the pious every where scattered through the land, and restraining the wicked by the mild majesty of goodness, there is still so much drunkenness, and dissipation, and sabbath breaking, and profaneness, what would very soon be the state of public morals, were the pious all taken to heaven to-day? Were the devout and the godly all withdrawn, the sanctuary closed, and the voice of the preacher heard no more, vice would reign triumphant over the land; and our lovely villages, and flourishing towns, would speedily exhibit only a counterpart to the wretched cities long since merged in the depths of the Dead Sea. How appalling, then, must be the prospect of being entirely secluded from the good, associated with none but the wicked, and with all the wicked of every class and degree of turpitude, and with the father of lies, and with his fiendish hosts, in one horrid community! If such be their prospect, who will not exclaim with the Psalmist, Gather not my soul with sinners. But consider

2. Not only will the society be composed wholly of the wicked, but, their evil passions, uncontrolled, will be the source of constant wretchedness.

All experience shows, that tastes long fostered, habits long indulged, become fixed, and exert a powerful influence over the whole man, even against his better judgment and his sober wishes. The covetous man, in proportion as he becomes sensible of the meanness of his governing passion, finds himself stripped of ability to control it. The drunkard, with the fixed conviction that he is such, finds himself borne irresistibly along by a current of his own forming; and then, even the moving tears of a ruined family, and the thrilling interests of an immortal soul, all affectingly calling on him to pause,— yea, even the tremendous gulf of perdition roaring and raging full in view before him, only rouse him madly to redouble his speed, as if anxious to drown reflection in the very horrors of destruction. So, also, the licentious, while, with each reiterated indulgence, the appetite is cloyed, and gratification diminished, yet find the chains of their own forging but the more firmly riveted upon them; and, as the galling weight of those chains is becoming more painfully felt, the power to burst them, and the inclination to attempt it, are the more sensibly diminishing. In like manner the ambitious, the envious, the malicious, the irascible, and the fraudulent, are every day increasing the power of their dominant passion, and rendering the prospect of their emanci pation the more hopeless.

Now what is there to warrant the idea, that propensities cherished and obeyed through life, will be lost in death? What authorizes the expectation that the soul, merely by a separation from the organ of its communication with the material universe, will lose its peculiar and distinctive characteristics? The mechanic, or the artist, is a mechanic or an artist still, when he has laid aside his tools; he has the same knowledge of his art, the same love for its exercise. In like manner, the soul must be the same still; as ambitious, or irritable, or proud, or selfish, when it has laid aside the body, (which

is only the soul's instrument for acting on material objects,) as before. The wicked, therefore, will carry their evil passions still in their bosoms, to the world of spirits; and, if so, they bear with them eternal fires of wretchedness to consume them.

Even in circumstances the most favorable to happiness, one single evil passion will fill a man with misery. What will riches and honors avail him, who is burning with ambition, or pining with envy, or who is agitated by vindictive passions? What can the kindest attentions of the most affectionate friends contribute to the peace of that man whose bosom is the seat of discontent, or who, from a consciousness of secret, unsuspected crimes, despises and abhors himself! What an amount of misery is sometimes inflicted on a large and amiable family, by a single vice of one member! What would be the condition of that family, of which each member should be the slave of some one odious propensity, and all clashing, in their pursuits, one with another? It would be wretchedness intolerable! What mind, then, can conceive the depth of misery that must pervade a vast community, of which each member is vicious-a slave to vile, ungovernable passions: where generosity, kindness, forbearance, and moderation are wholly unknown; where selfishness reigns uncontrolled in every heart; where each one is stung with fierce passions, and intent on his own gratification, regardless of all around him; whom he hates and despises, and by whom, as he is well aware, he is himself às heartily despised and hated. Is this the fellowship of the lost? Then gather not my soul with sinners.

3. They lie under the curse of Almighty God.

God is the great fountain of light, and joy, and gladness, to the intelligent universe. 'Tis his smile that lights the sun, and gilds the landscape with beauty. 'Tis this that sends the sweet thrill of joy through the bosom of youth, alleviates the toils of manhood, kindles the fire of domestic comfort and domestic love, and soothes the cares and alleviates the sorrows of declining age. If God frown upon us, the heavens are hung with blackness, the earth sickens, vegetation languishes, business fails, labor is fruitless, commerce decays, and pestilence and death desolate the abodes of men. 'Tis God's smile that fills the heart of the contrite with peace, renders the sanctuary a banqueting hall to the soul, pours a flood of transporting radiance into the Christian's closet, nerves him to successful combat with spiritual foes, gives him strength to walk steadfast in the narrow way, dispels even the darkness of death's gloomy vale, and opens to the view of the dying saint the glories of the heavenly inheritance. Deprived of all created good, the favor of God were happiness enough. Without it, the possession of a world were but splendid inisery.

But where sinners are gathered, the favor of God never beams. They are left to the wretchedness of their own vices, unmitigated by one smile from God, unsoftened by one token of his favor or of his pity. Not only so they are not merely deprived of his favor, they are not merely left to the uncontrolled dominion of their cruel and tormenting passions, but they are made to feel the weight of his positive anger, the bitterness of his tremendous curse.

It is, I admit, a distressing, an overwhelming reflection; but the Scriptures distinctly present it before us, and represent the doom of the wicked by the most appalling imagery. They are consigned to a fiery lake, prepared, originally, for the devil and his angels. They are cast into outer darkness, tormented in flames, without the possibility of obtaining the least mitigation of their sufferings; which extort from them incessant weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth; while the worm that never dies ceases not its gnawings within! Now this is no fanatic vision, it is no superstitious raving. It is a sober delineation of awful truth, made by the God of truth and love,-if haply we may be roused by it to adequate effort for effecting a timely escape! Read, then, this fearful delineation; ponder it well, and flee- Oh, flee from the wrath to come, while yet you may! Wrath-how intolerable! To be cast where all that is loathsome and repulsive in character shall surround you; where fierce passions shall rage in a continual tempest within; where the hand of the Almighty shall kindle fiery torments within you; where your breath shall be blasphemy, your drink tears, your only music groans and lamentations! Shall any of us sink under this tremendous curse? God, in mercy, forbid it!-Gather, Oh, gather not my soul with sinners! be the earnest cry of each of us!

4. To aggravate the curse, memory will still live, and conscience never fail to perform her dread office. We are, indeed, fearfully and wonderfully made; and not more so in our corporeal frame, than in our intellectual and moral conformation. How important, for instance, is the single faculty of memory. Without it, accountability were out of the question, punishment and reward alike impossible. Let a man be entirely deprived of memory, and he becomes conscious only of the sensations of the present moment; the past and the future are to him equally a blank. Science would be to him inaccessible, and all knowledge unattainable; for science is but a systematic arrangement of facts ascertained, and of the conclusions deduced from them; and knowledge is but the result gathered by memory from the experience of past events. Skill, and foresight, and care, without memory, were equally impossible. For how should he, who retains no recollection of the past, either pleasant or painful, know what, to-day, may yield pleasure or inflict pain? How, then, shall he plan for the one, or guard against the other? He must, inevitably, remain a mere passive recipient of sensations occasioned by the objects which are, present, ignorant alike of the source and the consequences of his sensations; profoundly ignorant whether those feelings be a part of himself, the result of the operation of his own powers, or occasioned by objects external to himself; ignorant whether he ever felt the same before, or shall ever feel the like again; ignorant, in short, of every thing but the sensation of the moment. What idea could such a person form of punishment or of reward? Place such a being in heaven, and after millions of ages spent there, he would be no happier than at the moment of his admission! Thrust him down to hell, and he at once tastes the sum of his misery in the first pang; with its endurance, it is forever buried in oblivion. The past is forgotten, and is no more; the future is unseen, unanticipated, and is not. In the passing instant his consciousness

and his very being are wholly concentrated. Take away memory, and, it is plain, conscience expires with it, and remorse becomes impossible.

But, memory we have, and memory we shall forever retain. The saints in bliss remember their former pollution-they remember the terrors of the law, and they remember the efficacy of atoning blood; and hence burst their ascriptions of praise to Him who redeemed them unto God. Memory will act, also, with never dying vigor, in each bosom throughout the vast multitude of sinners. This is plain from the nature of the case; memory is an original faculty, inherent in the mind, and indestructible as the mind itself. It is plain from the charge urged home by the Judge of all the earth, on the consciences of the wicked arraigned at his bar -" I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat; I was sick and in prison, and ye visited me not." (See the close of Matt. chap. 25). It is plain from the conversation between the father of the faithful and the rich man tormented in hell: 66 Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things." (See Luke, 16th chap.)

In this world, the mind is so occupied with business, and cares, and pleasures, that the greater part of our actions are speedily forgotten by us; but in the world of retribution all those objects will be removed, and those pursuits will be at an end. The mind, with all its powers restored to pristine, immortal vigor, with the memory of each event fresh as at the moment after its occurrence, will be ever active in the dread review; each action will be weighed and scrutinized, and conscience, with eagle eye to see the truth, and stern integrity to declare it, will fearlessly and loudly pass sentence on each action, as its bearings and influences on other persons besides the actor himself, rise up in view. Then will each cherished sin betray its native deformity, and discover its murderous work on the soul. Then, also, in the view of the impenitent, will the conduct of God be fully vindicated; his sincerity and earnestness in the gospel offer will be distinctly seen, and thoroughly believed; and the damning guilt of unbelief, will be doubted no more. Despairing groans and tears of blood will reveal the agonizing conviction.

Could the condemned outcast but believe himself blameless; could he only believe his punishments to be heavier than his desert, it would surround him as with a panoply, and shield him from the fierceness of divine wrath. But this it is that fans the fires of hell, and pierces with ten thousand barbs the suffer. er's panting heart, he knows he is reaping but the just reward of his doings. Heaven's glories beheld in distance, and the echo of celestial hosannahs heard in hell's dark caverns, shall only rouse conscience to proclaim,— "Atoning blood flowed for us too; a heavenly portion was offered to us too,— but we spurned it for the momentary pleasures of sin." All hell quakes at the confession! its fiery billows rise, and roll, and rage, and break upon the ear, "Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not.”

"These are the words which glow'd upon the sword
Whose wrath burn'd fearfully behind the cursed,

As they were driven away to Tophet

Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not

These are the words to which the harps of grief
Are strung; and to the chorus of the damn'd
The rocks of hell repeat them evermore,
Loud echoed, through the caverns of despair,
And pour'd in thunder on the ear of wo!"

And quivering lips and hollow groans reply," We knew our duty, but we did it not.' Our doom is just. The terrors of a guilty conscience, who can bear! Merciful God, gather not my soul with sinners!

5. They know their doom is unalterably fixed; escape, relief, and change, and death, are alike hopeless.

On this subject reason utterly fails, analogy can furnish no clue to guide; the collected wisdom of all created beings were incompetent to decide what should be the duration of punishment inflicted on incorrigible rebels against heavenly majesty, -on the daring despisers of God's offered mercy. But this impenetrable mystery the Infinite Mind has vouchsafed to clear up. The compassionate Saviour himself has said, "the wicked shall go away into everlasting punishment; into hell, where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched."

Appalling though the prospect be, inscrutable though the reasons be that render such a decision necessary,-to doubt it were folly, and to deny it, worse than madness, since the Son of God asserts it. This it is that forms the crowning point in the wretchedness of the damned,-their woes shall never end! Those fires will never die out; that worm will never cease its gnawings; that frame, lacerated in every fibre-quivering in every muscle, and bleeding with anguish at every pore, will never sink exhausted. Respite there is none, relief none, change is hopeless, escape impossible, and death-oh! 'tis a living death; the soul grappling in one eternal struggle with the monster death,-bleeding in intensity of agony from his envenomed darts,-is ever-fainting, ever-dying-but never, never, never dead! Were annihilation. possible after countless ages had rolled away, the gloomy anticipation might yield some relief-lend some support to the soul against its tide of sorrows; but annihilation is hopeless-it is impossible for God has pronounced the curse eternal. His breath fans the fire—his almighty arm sustains the sufferer to endure it. Eternity!-an eternity of wretchedness!-how unspeakably awful! Such an eternity, so filled up with suffering, awaits the impenitent. What,-oh, what then shall it profit me, if I gain the whole world,-its highest honors, its finest treasures, its richest enjoyments, and then lose my soul? God of mercy! gather not my soul with sinners!

From the pit, whose horrors we have been contemplating, there comes up the voice of admonition. T'en thousand groans commingle in the sound; ten thousand sighs waft it to our ears-he who is living in sin, impenitent, unsanctified, is fitting for a place in this horrid society. Are you a lover of wine, and a friend to strong drink? are you covetous? are you wrathful and unforgiving? are you a votary of pleasure, a lover of vain company, idle talk, unseasonable humor, and polluting joys? Then are you in the broad way, hurrying on with rail-road speed to join the thousands in the pít, who, when here, trod

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