"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."—Jer. viii. 20.

FEW traits of character among the ancient Jewish people appear more strongly marked than their nationality. This, the absence of which would, under ordinary circumstances, have showed want of feeling, in their particular case might even have indicated want of religion. For, as the apostle remarks, the Jews had much advantage every way; chiefly, that to them were committed the oracles of God. They, only, of all people, had been the depositaries of sacred truth, and had vouchsafed to them the knowledge of the Most High. To the minds of the instructed among them, every association which reminded them of their native country, or of the land of their forefathers, came attended by all the solemn and soul-elevating imagery which belongs to spiritual things. Fertile as was their soil, and favourable their climate, they had to boast yet more, that Judea was a portion of the earth in which the Deity had made special manifestations of his power and goodness. Scarcely a grey mountain's side, scarcely a brook which rippled through its shades, but had thrown about them the profound interest of some incident belong ing to, or illustrative of, their history as Jehovah's people. The striking routine of their liturgical ceremonies, and the embodied wisdom of their political and civil code, were not only admirable for their peculiar fitness, but even sacred, because of their First Originator: and consequently, when a pious Jew felt the influence

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of nationality, there swelled about his heart the liveliest, loftiest emotions almost of which humanity is susceptible. It was a love of church and state, connected with a corresponding love to the Divine Architect of both. How intense, indeed, must have been the attachments by which every Jewish believer found himself united to persons designated as the "Israel of God."

This spirit of a pure religious patriotism, so to speak, which invests so many of the great ones of Scripture biography, is in none of them, probably, more powerfully exhibited than in the character of the prophet from whose writings I have chosen my text. It was Jeremiah's lot to live in times of great political disturbance. The iniquity of his nation was fast ripening into judgment. The long-growing neglect of the true God had, for years back, called forth the expostulations and the warnings of heaven, but all in vain. To what a state things had come in the days of this eminent servant of God, there needs no farther evidence than the contents of the particular chapter before us. Thus, at the sixth verse, (I am quoting from the eighth chapter,) at the sixth verse he says, "I hearkened and heard, but they spake not aright. No man repented him of his wickedness, saying, what have I done? Every one turned to his course, as the horse rusheth into the battle." And from the language of the 19th verse, it appears that the shadow of the coming captivity and desolation already spread its gloom over the souls of the faithful in the land: "Behold the voice of the cry of the daughter of my people, because of them which dwell in a far country."

For himself, indeed, Jeremiah could, comparatively, have had but little apprehensions. Approved as he was, and honoured of God, knowing in whom he believed, and having his treasure beyond the fluctuations of this world's prosperity or adversity, he was prepared for eternity, and by consequence, for time. And yet, so entirely does he identify himself with those who were his kinsmen after the flesh, that, forgetting everything of his own personal security, he seems to be filled with the deepest feelings of shame, remorse, and terror. In contemplating the vast advantages his countrymen had, the fearful use they made of them, and the tremendous doom about to fall upon their guilt, self, as it were, is forgotten. The melancholy retrospect of national crime, and the not less melancholy prospect of national punishment, press with as much weight upon his sympathizing bosom, as though his own soul's deliverance was not sure. And in all the bitterness of a spirit grieved and wearied unto death, he exclaims, in the pathetic words of the text, "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."

I would God that the sound of this Scripture might enter into our ears, and call up within us all that disposition to calm and serious thought to which it seems to invite. We live, my friends, in strange and startling times. There is a jar and clang in the machinery of social life, as though it were hurrying into a velo

city that could not be controlled, and all its elaborately compacted parts were about to scatter destruction and death in the convulsion which would rend them asunder. At all events, it is not too much to say, that so it is with us in this country. And without entering into the question of other nations' hopes or prospects, surely it must be confessed, that in the present state of insecurity of life and property from whatever cause proceeding, there is much calculated to produce sorrow, shame, and apprehension. There is much, therefore, in our circumstances, nationally, to make the solemn tone of the lamenting prophet's words applicable to the present season, and the present time. And this particularly, because that whatever be the existing aspects concerning Protestantism in these lands, none others are by half so culpable as Protestants themselves. It is easy to lay blame on this party in the state, or that individual in the cabinet; but believe me, had the professing churches among us been faithful unto God, they would never now be in danger of being forsaken by man. If there be an apathy abroad concerning the interests of true religion, on the one hand, and an anxiety and activity for the advancement of a false religion on the other, may not this apathy have been engendered by the too evident remissness of those among us who should have been up and doing the Lord's work? May not this activity of the enemy have drawn strength from the perception of our languor and inertness? Ah! my dear friends, the churches of the reformation, baptized as they were in blood, were manifestly never intended of God to return with impunity into that womb of darkness from whence he brought them forth. Principles vindicated at such immense cost as those which form the basis of our spiritual and civil rights, were not to be forgotten without involving a corresponding penalty of judgment. The law of spirituals has linked together carelessness and chastisement. And it were a thing impossible that God should endow a people with privileges so vast and various as for years back have been in our possession, and not follow up the season of our neglect and contempt of them by a season of strict and sharp retribution. If there be one thing more than another calculated to give poignancy to the thoughts of a future without opportunities, surely it is the recollection of a past which abounded with them. I pretend not for a moment to say what will be, or to predict whether ultimate safety or destruction await the framework of our ecclesiastical and civil constitution. But this I cannot but declare, that our advantages were great; our means and appliances past numbering; our spiritual and moral opportunities of continued unvarying recurrence. And if we hear the moaning of the coming storm of adversity, if our horizon be darkening with clouds whose bosoms bear within the lightnings of wrath, let us remember how long was the season of our sunshine; how long from out the windows of heaven the favour and long-suffering of the Omnipotent streamed out, in brightness, over our hills and vales,

and summoned us to work, and sow the seed, and see it grow and bring forth fruit unto eternity of joy. Truly, these words become our lips too well in such a case, "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."

It is not my purpose, however, at this present, to use the language of the text as a ground whereon to raise a descant upon national advantages enjoyed, or national transgressions committed. And this because, however true all which might be advanced, it might be truth unprofitable to the great bulk of my hearers. It is easy, while using the language of lamentation over one's country's unfaithfulness, to continue unmoved at the thought of our individual neglects; and many there be, who would readily enough echo the prophet's lamenting address, "Ah! sinful nation; a people laden with iniquity;" while thinking little and caring less about their own palpable negligence in what concerns Christian faith and Christian practice. What I would wish, then, is, to bring from out the Scripture before us something which might be useful to a very large class (I regret to say) among us-the undecided. I would speak specially to them. We are now just at the conclusion of a year; another and a large section of time has been added to the eternity of the past, and this concluding Sabbath waits, as it were, to join its predecessors which have already winged their flight before the throne of heaven, there to testify concerning us what is the character of our lives, and the real nature of our prospects in the world to come. I speak now, I say, to the undecided. There are many such. Many whose religion consists rather in the seeing what should be followed, than in the cordial pursuit of what is lovely and of good report; rather in some acknowledgments concerning man's depravity, some cold statements as to the necessity of repentance, some formal admissions about the importance of Christ's salvation, and the benefits of an interest, by faith, in his finished work, than any hearty embracing of the Gospel mercies, any genuine exhibition of the work of grace upon the heart, delivering it from the influences of this world, and modelling it for an enduring residence in that bright place wherein entereth nothing that defileth. In short, some people seem, as it were, to make their religion consist in saying they ought to be religious. Now that, in one sense, such persons appear to be in far better circumstances than those who openly oppose and deride the truth, I freely admit. But, if there be no advancing beyond this point, (and with many there appears to be none,) what profits it? Indeed the greater the light and knowledge any have, if they issue not in a real unfeigned surrender of the whole man to God and to his Christ, so much the greater proportionably, must be their condemnation: and in this condemnation I include, as no mean portion of it-self-reproach. The worm that never dieth, described in Scripture as so active in producing the sufferings of the damned, is probably nothing but the ceaseless acting of remorse; nor shall there be in hell,

perhaps, one sorrow of more envenomed bite, to work the soul to wretchedness, than the full, clear, abiding recollection of opportunities departed for ever, of times and seasons when the offers of mercy came fast and frequent to the soul, when Christ, as it were, stood at the door of the heart and knocked, and the heart was all but persuaded to open to him. I pray of such, then, as may find this slight sketch suitable to their condition, to ponder with me somewhat of that depth of solemn monition contained in the text: "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."

It is a truth of Scripture, and one commending itself to reason, that there is, in the moral as well as the natural world, a summer-time. A time when the chill and gloom of former ignorance give way before the inbreaking light and warmth of communicated knowledge. A time when the sinner is brought to hear, whether he will attend or no to it, the solemn declarations of the Eternal Wisdom; of man's ruin by nature; of his restoration through the blood and merits of a Redeemer; of faith alone, as the means of taking away human guilt; and of the required agency of the Holy Spirit, to create in us a clean heart, and to impart a relish and capacity for God's service and God's favor. Now, as where this revelation of divine truth is not made, we need not look for any results of righteousness; so where it is made, and the individual is brought personally into contact with God's declared mercy in Jesus Christ, then and there we are to look for the rise and progress of religion in the heart. For it is the summer time. It is the time when the good seed of the word should germinate, and take root downward, and bear fruit upward, and all that maturing of character take place which, when completed, indicates the child of God. It is the time when conviction is to issue in conversion, and the heart is to make its selection of heaven instead of hell, and the cross is to be taken up sincerely, as the only appropriate banner whereunder to pass through life into eternity. This summertime it is which stamps upon the harvest its character of penury, or abundance; and when the harvest comes, then comes the period of decision, when the heavenly husbandman, with fan in hand, parges his barn-floors, and the wheat is gathered into the garner, and the chaff is swept away as a thing of nought. Now, the figurative language employed in the text, and which has reference to these processes in the natural world, commends itself at once to our understanding: and there is here a startling question put to us individually-have we availed ourselves of our religious privileges, and put to their right use the benefits bestowed upon us; and have we, with the Scriptures of truth placed in our hands, and the message of life sounding in our ears, have we indeed turned, and repented, and sought unto God, as he is to be seen in his only-begotten? have we tasted that he is gracious, and felt upon our souls the powers of the world to come, filling us with the love of God and the love of