as their everlasting friend, to whom they owe all their happiness; all casting their crowns at His feet, and all, with one heart and voice, lifting up before Him the song "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive honor, and power, and glory, and blessing, for ever and ever! Amen."

SERMON XVII.

THE UNREASONABLENESS OF COMPLAINT.

LAMENTATIONS, iii. 39.

"Wherefore doth a living man complain? a man for the punishment of his sins."

THE prophet here, in the language of solemn expostulation, simply, but strikingly, intimates the utter unreasonableness of a living man's complaining, under any conceivable circumstances in which he can be placed; and this unreasonableness he considers unanswerably established by the simple fact, that he is a living man-that he is still permitted to dwell in the land of the living, and therefore within the reach of the pardoning mercy, and sanctifying grace of God-and this one consideration completely shuts him out from all right to complain, no matter what the measure or multitude, the depth or duration of his sufferings may be; because as a

sinner, he has deserved, as the punishment of his sins, eternal sufferings at the hands of his offended God, and consequently, if that God had dealt with him according to his sins, and rewarded him according to his iniquities, at the moment of complaining, he would not be among the living, but the dead-the dead in the most awful sense of the word, those on whom the second death has passed that death which never dies. Surely then, let a man's trials and tribulations be what they may, the mere fact, that but for the astonishing patience and long-suffering of the God against whom he has sinned, he would be enduring, not the mitigated sorrows of earth, but the unmitigated torments of hell, is abundantly sufficient to show the utter unreasonableness, under any conceivable affliction, of a living man's complaint. I would then desire, at the outset, to impress this one truth upon your minds-that a living man cannot possibly have any just cause of complaint against God, let his sufferings on earth be what they may, inasmuch as the simple fact of being out of hell, is with any, and with every man that lives on the face of the earth, such an amazing proof of the patience and forbearance of God, as to bar all right to the shadow of a reason for complaint, and to demand, in its stead, the warmest feelings of gratitude, and the loudest songs of praise. I have repeated this simple statement, again and again, because we live in a world abounding with

complainers a world where the spirit of complaint ing is cherished in almost every heart, and the language of complaint is heard from almost every mouth; and yet a world, where this one consideration alone is sufficient to prove, that a single complainer should not be found upon its surface, nor a single complaint rise up from any one of its habitations before the throne of God. No! did all the dwellers upon earth understand, remember, and feel as they ought, how the account stands between them and the God of heaven, whatever language might be heard on earth, the language of complaint, at least, would never insult the ears of the living God. The language of complaint, did I say? Oh! on the supposition I have made, earth would become one great altar, from which the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and the song of praise, would continually go up before Jehovah's throne. We may therefore lay it down as a certain position, that wherever the spirit of discontent is cherished in the heart, or the language of complaint is heard upon the lips, there is there either a total ignorance, or a temporary forgetfulness, or a very inadequate sense, of the guilt and desert of sin: and that the most effectual silencer of all complaint, is a heartpiercing, soul-humbling sense of our utter and inexcusable sinfulness in the sight of God, with its consequent desert of eternal wrath, and everlasting woe! In truth, a deeply-humble spirit, broken and

contrite under the sense of sin, and subdued and softened by a sense of pardoning love, cannot complain, but must necessarily be a deeply-thankful spirit. Conscious that it has forfeited all claim to the least of God's mercies, and that it has earned a full claim to the greatest of God's judgments, such a spirit, so far from complaining, let its sufferings be ever so accumulated or aggravated, is actually filled with astonishment that it is allowed to receive or retain a single blessing-and overflows with gratitude at the thought, that, compared with what it has deserved, the mercies it enjoys are so manifold and so precious, and the trials it endures so few, and so light—and even these so mingled with mercies-yea, in themselves such precious mercies, as, when viewed aright, to furnish fresh materials for adoring praise. And when from earth and time it turns its gaze to heaven and eternity, and views by faith the blessings treasured up for it there, oh! it is indeed speechless with wondering gratitude to its God, and overwhelmed with the remembrance of all it owes to His love; and how can such a spirit, with such feelings, complain? You see then, that pride, either in its full dominion or partial operation, is the parent and nurse of discontent and complaint; and humility, genuine humility, the parent and nurse of thankfulness and praise; and this humility, as it springs from, is always proportioned in its depth and influences to, the sense we feel and