in the likeness of, man, and cut off out of the land of the living. Wonder, O Heavens ! Be astonished, O Earth! He died the death, of whom it is witnessed, that He is " the true God, and "eternal life." The one exposed himself to peril in the service of his sovereign and his country; which, though it was glorious to do, yet would have been ignominious, in such circumstances, to have declined. -But Christ took the field, though he was the blessed and only potentate; the King of kings, and Lord of lords. Christ took, the field, though He was sure to drop in the engagement; and put on the harness, though He knew beforehand that it must reek with his blood. That Prince of Hea ven resigned his royal person, not barely to the hazard, but to the inevitable stroke; to Death, certain in its approach, and armed with all its horrors. And for whom? Not for those who were in any degree deserving; but for his own disobedient creatures; for the pardon of condemned malefactors; for a band of rebels, a race of traitors, the most obnoxious and inexcusable of all criminals. Whom he might have left to perish in their iniquities, without the least impeachment of his goodness, and to the display of his avenging justice. The one, 'tis probable, died expeditiously; was suddenly wounded, and soon slain. A bullet lodged in his heart; a sword sheathed in his breast; or a battle-ax cleaving the brain, might put a speedy end to his misery; dispatch him "as "in a moment."-Whereas, the divine Redeemer expired in tedious and protracted torments. His pangs were as lingering as they were exquisite. Even in the prelude to his last suffering, what a load of sorrows overwhelmed his sacred humanity! Till the intolerable pressure wrung blood, 1 John v. 20. instead of sweat, from every pore: till the crimson flood stained all his raiment, and tinged the very stones. But, when the last scene of the tragedy commenced; when the executioner's hammer had nailed him to the cross; O! how many dismal hours did that illustrious sufferer hang; a spectacle of woe to God, to angels, and to men! His temples mangled with the thorny crown! his hands and feet cleft with the rugged irons! his whole body covered with wounds and bruises! and his soul, his very soul, pierced with pangs of unutterable distress! So long he hung, that nature, through all her dominions, was thrown into sympathizing commotions. The earth could no longer sustain such barbarous indignities without trembling; nor the sun behold them without horror. Nay, so long did he hang in this extremity of agony and torture, that the alarm reached even the remote regions of the dead.-Never, O my soul, never forget the amazing truth. The Lamb of God was seized; was bound; was slaughtered with the ut most inhumanity; and endured death, in all its bitterness, for thee. His murderers, studiously cruel, so guided the fatal cup; that he tasted every drop of its gall, before he drank it off to the very dregs. Once again; the Warrior died like a hero, and fell gallantly in the field of battle.-But died not Christ as a fool dieth? Not on the bed of ho nour, with scars of glory in his breast; but, like some execrable miscreant, on a gibbet; with lashes of the vile scourge on his back. Yes, the blessed Jesus bowed his expiring head on the accursed tree; suspended between heaven and earth, as an outcast from both, and unworthy of either. What suitable returns of inflamed and adoring 2 Sam. iii, 33. Of this indignity our Lord complains: Are you come out as against a thief? Matt. xxvi. 55. devotion can we make to the Holy One of God; thus dying, that we might live; dying in ignominy and anguish; that we might live for ever in the heights of joy, and sit for ever on thrones of glory.-Alas! it is not in us, impotent, insensible mortals, to be duly thankful. He only, who confers such inconceivably rich favors, can enkindle a proper warmth of grateful affection. Then build thyself a monument, most gracious Immanuel, build thyself an everlasting monument of gratitude in our souls. Inscribe the memory of thy matchless beneficence, not with ink and pen; but with that precious blood which gushed from thy wounded veins. Engrave it, not with the hammer and chisel; but with that sharpened spear which pierced that sacred side. Let it stand conspicuous and indelible, not on outward tables of stone; but on the very inmost tables of our hearts. One thing more let me observe, before I bid adieu to this intombed Warrior, and his garnished sepulchre. How mean are these ostentatious methods of bribing the vote of fame, and purchasing a little posthumous renown! What a poor substitute for a set of memorable actions is polished alabaster, or the mimicry of sculptured marble! The real excellency of this bleeding Patriot is * Sir Bevil Granville, slain in the civil wars, at an engagement with the rebels.It may possibly be some entertainment to the reader if I subjoin Sir Bevil's character, as it is drawn by that celebrated pen which wrote the history of those calamitous times. That which would "have clouded any victory," says the noble historian, "and made the loss of others less spoken of, was the "death of Sir Bevil Granville. He was indeed an ex"cellent person, whose activity, interest, and reputation, "were the foundation of what had been done in Corn"wall: his temper and affections so public, that no ac#cident which happened could make any impression upon "him; and his example kept others from taking any "thing ill, or at least seeming to do so. In a word, a "brighter courage and a gentler disposition were never "married together to make the most cheerful and inno"cent conversation." Clar, Hist, Reb, vol. ii. written on the minds of his countrymen. It would be remembered with applause, so long as the nation subsists, without this artificial expedient to perpetuate it.-And such, such is the monument I would wish for myself. Let me leave a memorial in the breasts of my fellow-creatures. Let surviving friends bear witness; that I have not lived to myself alone, nor been altogether unserviceable in my generation. Oh! let an uninterrupted series of beneficent offices be the inscription; and the best interests of my acquaintance, the plate that exhibits it. Let the poor, as they pass by my grave, point at the little spot, and thankfully acknowledge"There lies the man, whose unwearied kindness was the constant relief of my various distresses; "who tenderly visited my languishing bed, and "readily supplied my indigent circumstances. "How often were his counsels a guide to my per"plexed thoughts, and a cordial to my dejected "spirit! "Tis owing to God's blessing, on his sea"sonable charities, and prudent consolations; "that I now live, and live in comfort."-Let a person, once ignorant and ungodly, lift up his eyes to heaven, and say within himself, as he walks over my bones; " Here are the last remains "of that sincere friend, who watched for my "soul. I can never forget with what heedless "gaiety I was posting on in the paths of perdi"tion: and I tremble to think into what irre"trievable ruin I might quickly have been plung"ed, had not his faithful admonitions arrested "me in the wild career. I was unacquainted "with the gospel of peace, and had no concern for its unsearchable treasures; but now, en"lightened by his instructive conversation, I see "the all-sufficiency of my Saviour; and, animated "by his repeated exhortations, I count all things "but loss, that I may win Christ. Methinks his "discourses, seasoned with religion, and set home "by the divine Spirit, still tingle in my ears; are "still warm on my heart; and, I trust, will be "more and more operative, till we meet each "other in the house not made with hands, eter"nal in the heavens." The only infallible way of immortalizing our characters; a way equally open to the meanest and most exalted fortune; is, "To make our call"ing and election sure;" to gain some sweet evidence, that our names are written in heaven. Then, however they may be disregarded or forgotten among men, they will not fail to be had in everlasting remembrance before the Lord. This is, of all distinctions, far the noblest. Ambition, be this thy object, and every page of Scripture will sanctify thy passion; even grace itself will fan thy flame.-As to earthly memorials, yet a little while, and they are all obliterated. The tongue of those, whose happiness we have zealously promoted, must soon be silent in the cof fin. Characters cut with a pen of iron, and committed to the solid rock, will ere long cease to be legible. But as many as are inrolled "in the "Lamb's Book of Life," He himself declares, shall never be blotted out from those annals of eternityf. When a flight of years has mouldered the triumphal column into dust: when the brazen statue perishes, under the corroding hand of time: those honours still continue; still are blooming and incorruptible in the world of glory. Make the extended skies your tomb; Yet know, vain mortals, all must die, Would bounteous heav'n indulge my pray❜r, I frame a nobler choice; Nor, living, wish the pompous pile; Data sunt ipsis quoque fata sepulchris. Juo. |