its consolation, if they wrought righteousness-and from its foreboding, if they wrought iniquity, but it was also an eminent cause of the doubt and hesitation with which they held the belief of the soul's immortality. How this should be the case, is apparent from the consideration that the body of man is so connected with his spirit as that all our ideas of future happiness and misery have a relation to the material part of man, all our prospects and anticipations regard the whole of our nature; the feelings of the separate dead we can form no clear conception of; and it brings the terrors and the joys of a future state unspeakably near to us when we are brought to believe that "they who sleep in the dust shall awake, some to shame and everlasting contempt, and others to glory and honour." When we meditate on heaven, it is of singing praises to God and the Lamb, of walking the golden streets, of eating of the tree of life, of drinking the refreshing streams of the water of life, of seeing patriarchs and prophets and the Ancient of days, of rest and relief after fatigue, of solace on the removal of sorrow, of uninterrupted ease, and health, and peace. When we meditate on the state of the lost, we faintly picture the fearful gnawing of the worm that never dies, of the tongue scorched amidst the flame, of the gnashing of teeth, and torture of every kind. We may have loftier conceptions of happiness, and deeper apprehensions of misery, but we have no idea either of happiness or misery in which the body has no part. Of the intermediate state between death and the resurrection we find it difficult to conceive any thing distinctly, and our attention is but too apt to dwell exclusively on the closed eye, the silent tongue, the motionless limbs, the solemnities of interment, the wasting body, the feast of worms, the triumph of the

spoiler; in a word, "the thing men fear to look upon." When we think of Lazarus, it is of one reclining in the bosom of Abraham; or of Dives, it is of one rolling in fire, his tongue scorched in the flame, without once recollecting that the body of each is still in its place of sepulture, separate from the immortal spirit.

To soften down "the terrors of the Lord," the Socinians, those dwellers in the frigid zone of Christianity, so speak of the resurrection of the body as to weaken our belief, were we to follow their opinion, in its identity and individuality. And this is in perfect accordance with their whole system. For if the soul and the body experience a new creation, instead of a restoration to each other, how can the newly formed creature have any conscious recollection of the past, through the interval of that parenthesis of existence that is said to have taken place? And how feeble then becomes the motive which we have to the practice of self-denial! Heathenism, in its ignorance of the body's resurrection, was led to regard the immortality of the soul as a doubtful and purely speculative truth. Much the reverse of all this has been frequently advanced. But a reference to the writings of the best of their authors may determine the question.

If Plato entertained the idea that the soul could never die, it would, perhaps, be difficult to prove that the subject was not with him rather one of delightful speculation than of fixed belief, a pleasing theory, a sublime probability, rather than a practical doctrine and a truth that could not be contested. If we may infer the рориlar belief from the writings of Virgil, Ovid, and Cicero, we shall be led to conclude that death was believed to terminate existence and responsibility. Virgil scouts the fear of futurity, and praises the man who nobly

treads on the mean restraints which the forebodings of futurity would impose. In his Eneid, he calls the place of the departed the land of shadows, and its avenue the outlet of dreams; expressions which, taken in connection with what he saye elsewhere, cannot be mistaken. Ovid ascribes to mere vulgarity of mind the dread of the eternal world. "Quid-nomina vana timetis ?" Cicero exults in the prospect of meeting, beyond the grave, with the illustrious dead, but checks his triumph with the thought of the doubtfulness of that which he contemplates-"If these things are so." "Fabulæ manes," and "domus exilis Plutonia," says Horace. The poeta were the vates: the better informed, the less they believed of their mythology. Had they known, by a divine revelation, that the body should rise again, how would the belief of that doctrine have confirmed their languid hopes! The partaker of Christ's sufferings shall be a sharer of the joy to be revealed. The instrument of sin shall share in its punishment. How well fitted these truths to confirm every holy purpose, and to shake every wicked one. Let us rejoice that immortality is brought to light, and let us seek to profit by the revelation.

The text suggests for our consideration, I. The subject. II. The nature. III. The Agent of this wondrous change.

1. "This vile body" shall be changed. The epithet employed is suggested by inspiration, and it is obviously the language of truth. For, since man became a sinner, his tenement is polluted by the leprosy of its inhabitant. That this term describes the present state of the body, appears from three considerations.

First, It is the seat of disease of every form and name. No organ, however well protected against injury, no

constitution, however vigorous, is proof against disease. Exercise and temperance, an equal temperature and a composed mind, are altogether unequal to the preservation of health, much as they may conduce to it. Some diseases disfigure the body, many subject it to torture, and not a few terminate in corrupting the solids, breaking them down by decay, or infusing a poison into the fluids of the body. Who can tell their number or their names? Who can describe the frightful aspects which they assume? Some hover around infancy, and slay their thousands. Many are almost peculiar to youth. A few are incident to maturity, and numbers prey upon old age. Diseases are entailed with existence. Many drink up our spirits, and fill us with languor and sadSome make us objects of disgust to ourselves, or take away all enjoyment of life, rendering it distasteful. And, lastly, there are some which obscure the intellect, so that the light which is in us becomes darkness.

ness.

Secondly, The body is vile, because it is the instrument of sinful passion. It has a moral defilement. Much has been said on the subject of "the human countenance divine;" but how often is it distorted by passion, as well as by pain! How frequently is it marked by the workings of unhallowed tempers and impure affections! How often does the eye express pride or contempt, anger or hatred! And "the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil; full of all deadly poison." In a word, every bodily faculty that is capable of being so has been pressed into the service of sin. If the heart of the believer is a temple for the Holy Ghost to dwell in, Satan "ruleth in the hearts of the children of disobedience." And where Satan, that "old serpent," hath his seat, there will be his slime. Is it possible that the tenant should be polluted,

and yet his tenement be pure? We say, any thing is vile which has been applied to impure purposes, or which has come into contact with any thing unclean. This body, therefore, may be correctly said to be defiled by sin.

Thirdly, This body hath the seeds of corruption and death within itself. We are aware that, by mere exposure to the air, in the absence of all other contact, our bodies become defiled,-a plain and obvious proof that ours is a "vile body." All the care that the most scrupulous delicacy can have recourse to can only maintain a comparative purity; it cannot remove the tendency to defilement: for it hath its source in the very texture of our frame. Take a magnifying glass, and look at the fairest form in which pride ever gloried, and how loathsome a mass of corruption does it appear! Vanity gives place to shame, and reason whispers, the ornaments of dress are akin to the decorations of a hearse. They serve but for concealment and deception, and are designed to impose upon ourselves and others. "The voice said, Cry; and I said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass [only not half so fair] and the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the word of the Lord endureth for ever." And that enduring word tells us, there is a resurrection of the dead to glory and immortality.

Ah! how does the vileness of this body appear when it comes to be broken down by death, and hastens to dissolution and putrefaction. Even Abraham is heard to say, in the case of his beloved Sarah, "Give me a possession of a burying place, that I may bury my dead out of my sight." How poor the resource of the Egyptians, and yet how natural to those who knew nothing