undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts. Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar; and he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy lips, and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged."

I have chosen the words, from the natural reference which they bear to the late solemn occasion of our assembling in this place. We, too, like the prophet, were in the temple of the Lord, and we beheld him in spirit sitting upon his lofty throne. We, too, were admitted into the presence of celestial beings, and we heard the blessed in heaven, and the good upon earth, crying one unto another, and saying, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory." In that hour, my brethren, which of us did not feel the selfabasement of the prophet, and say in his heart, "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts ?" Yet the altar before which we were assembled was the altar of mercy and redemption; and the bread of life which " touched our lips" conveyed to our consciences a stronger assurance than even the live coal, or the voice of the seraph, "that our iniquity is taken away, and our sin purged."

The subject into which I am led by these reflections, is the consideration of two prevailing sentiments, which the meditations, and the more solemn ceremonies of religion, naturally inspire; sentiments which are produc

tive, in particular, of the best consequences, when we rise from the altar of our Saviour. The first sentiment which the contemplation of religious objects inspires, is a. deep sense of their dignity, and of our littleness. Whether we look abroad through nature, and trace the Deity in the magnitude of his works; in the sun which flames above our heads; in the splendour of the starry heavens; or in the rolling billows of the deep; or, when retiring from the contemplation of nature, we look into the depths of the Divine Providence; the laws by which a moral creation is upheld; the traces of the Divine hand in the course of human affairs; and especially the stupendous scheme of revelation; on such occasions, we are struck with an overpowering sense of the excelling glory of the Lord, and are lost in equal astonishment at our own littleness and imperfection. It is then, that, with the prophet, we behold the train of the magnificence of God filling the temple of earth and of heaven; and that, with the psalmist, we cry aloud, "What is man, that thou art mindful of him; and the son of man, that thou visitest him?" It is then, too, that we feel struck with a sense of our offences, of our imperfect and wandering exertions in the service of this mighty and allbounteous God; and that we feel the full force of the sentiment of Isaiah, "Woe is me! for I am undone ; because I am a man of unclean lips."

Amidst such humility and self-abasement, the first sentiments of religion rise in the human heart; and in the heart of a being like man, who is ever prone to weakness and to sin, such feelings must ever accompany all his religious impressions. Yet they are not, as the world supposes, sentiments merely of gloom and depres.

sion. They are melancholy and severe, but they are sublime! Man is weak and sinful, and he feels that he is so, and cries out, that he is perishing in the waves, and is undone; yet he fixes the eye of faith on the gracious Being who conducts him through the deep; and, in the very wreck and ruin of his hopes, he clings, with eagerness, to "the Rock of his salvation."

The second sentiment, therefore, my brethren, which rises in the midst of our religious contemplations, is that of trust in the goodness and mercy of God. This is the "live coal" which is carried by a seraph from the altar, and rekindles our failing souls; and this is the voice of peace which assures us that our " iniquity is taken away, and our sin purged." Wherever we look abroad through nature, we behold a universe rejoicing in the bounty of the Creator; to every thing its portion of bliss allotted; and the smallest insect that flutters in the sun-beam provided with the means of happiness, no less than the seraphims who sing the praises of the Lord of Hosts. Amidst this profusion of bounty, is man forgotten? and is that being who is made but a little lower than the angels, left to wretchedness and despair? If he has sinned, is there not mercy with the Most High ? will God be angry for ever, and cast off, without hope of pardon, his wandering and prodigal son? Nature herself, my brethren, speaks to us of mercy with the Most High; and her gentle voice sometimes whispers to us, with the seraph of the prophet, that our “iniquity is taken away, and our sin purged." Revelation speaks to us in still more commanding words; and at that altar from which we have now risen, I trust we have heard a voice which will bring us peace and assurance for ever. We have there adored in gratitude and humility the mighty sacrifice of our redemption; and we have heard the words which say, If God gave us his only Son, will he not, with him, also give us all things?"

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Such, my brethren, are the contemplations into which our religion has lately introduced us, and such are the sentiments which must in some measure have arisen in all our hearts. From that altar we are now returning into the world; and having felt our weakness and infirmity, and having had our hearts re-assured by the promises of the spirit of God, what remains for us to do? The prophet will tell us in the words which follow the

"Also I heard the voice of the Lord saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I: send me." We have knelt down before the cross of Christ; we have felt the wounds of our consciences healed by the drops of his blood; and we are advancing, I trust, with renewed spirits into the dangers and the trials of the world. What, then, ought to be our principle of action? " Here am I (says the prophet), send me;" or, in the language of a greater than the prophet, "Lo, I come to do thy will, O God!" At the altar of Christ, the glory of the Lord has been unveiled to us; and, raising our eyes above the things of time, we have beheld his train filling the temple of eternity. We have seen all things in heaven and in earth obeying his will; from the sparrow, which falleth to the ground at his command, to the seraphim, who sing their eternal hymn, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of Hosts, heaven and earth are full of his glory." We have seen the First-born himself bowing his head in death, to accomplish the will of the Father: yet, amidst all this

grand display of the sovereignty of God, we have found, alas! our own hearts but too often rebels to his will. Abashed at his presence, and self-condemned, we have cried out, "Woe is me, for I am undone;" but in the midst of our humiliation and tears, the living flame of his love has touched our hearts, and the seraph of peace that hovers round the altar, has assured us that " our iniquity is taken away," and now sends us back into the world, willing instruments in his hands.

In the world into which we are returning, temptations of different kinds will again recur to mislead us. Some of us, probably, are returning into scenes of affliction, and may be tempted to murmur against the dispensations of Heaven. Yet, my brethren, if such is the call of your Father; if it is into the scenes of sorrow that he sends you; still say with the prophet, "Here am I." Forget not so soon the contemplations in which you have been engaged. Remember that the Master before whom you have now bowed, was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. You have lately risen from the view of his sufferings*, and have seen that he refused not the cup which his Father gave him to drink. Still more, you have seen the reward of his filial obedience. When the bitterness of death was past, you saw him restored to life and immortality; and you now are assured that, " at the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow." Learn from him to suffer; and the meekness of your patience will like his be rewarded, when sorrow shall be no more!

Many of us are returning into scenes of ease and prosperity. It is in these chiefly that we are likely to