Let the last expiring struggle give the signal of sorrow to those whe have hung with speechless anxiety over the couch of sickness. Carry to the grave, and to cold oblivion, the frail vehicle in which the spirit has passed its earthly sojourn. Death but sets the spirit free; and with its indestructible treasures that spirit hastens to its endless home in the heavenly country, in the eternal city of God! Thirdly. We may try the case by considering the relative suitableness of earthly and heavenly treasures to the wants of man. And here it is admitted that earthly treasures, to some extent, do minister to the necessities of the present life. Man lives, in part at least, by bread. So long as his daily labor suffices to procure what is necessary to sustain life and give vigor to health, he is to a large extent independent of wealth. Nevertheless, sickness may wither the muscular arm and bend the stout frame. It is desirable that some provision should be made for age, infirmity, the education of children, and general usefulness in the world. Be it so. Yet, after all, it remains true that "Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long." Over and beyond the amount of property needful for this, and leaving out of consideration a christian use of riches, it is maintained that wealth in itself has no property to satisfy the inner cravings of the soul. The rich man thinks he can afford to keep a luxurious table. Be it so. Let the ends of the earth be put under contribution to minister to his palate. After all, he can eat but three times a day at most, four; and each time only a given quantity; if he goes beyond that, dyspepsia and gout are the penalty. His cellar may be stocked with the wines of Italy, Spain, and the Rhine: he can drink but his single bottle at his dinner. His hard-working neighbor goes to his homely fare with an edge of appetite vastly keener, and enjoys his frugal meal with a relish as exquisite as the millionaire. Hunger is the best sauce, and a good digestion obviates all necessity for a French cook. The poor man sits at his humble board with his little family; the rich gourmand invites company-in most cases, a set of mere parasites. His saloons are opened to a gay crowd of triflers, and music and dancing, silly flirtation or ill-dissembled licentiousness, while away the tedious hours. Allow that all this did actually satisfy the soul, why, the tranquil pleasures of a quiet family fireside do the same. The rich man pays his thousand dollars for his night's dissipation, and tells you he has enjoyed himself; the other pays nothing, and enjoys himself fully as much, without the fuming and flurry of spirits beforehand, and perchance the vexation, headache, and touches of remorse, afterwards. How is the one any better off, so far as satisfaction is concerned, than the other? The case would be different, we admit, if wealth could buy peace of mind, genius, beauty, learning, wit, or even love. But none of these are marketable qualities; they are not to be commanded by money. No, nor even exemption from sickness, much less the approach of death. The man of wealth may change his locality at will. He may cross seas, scale mountains, visit watering-places; but he cannot get away from himself; he cannot escape the tedium of a listless mind, the weariness of a sated palate, and a heart ill at ease. And for the rest, he breathes nothing better than the common air which expands the lungs of the meanest slave; he cannot appropriate to himself heaven's sunshine-free to all; the very same sky expands over the poor; its "majestical canopy fretted with golden fire," its sunset draperies, its gorgeous cloud-pictures, are spread out to the eye of the poor and the rich alike. But behold, how deep, how vast, are the real wants of a soul immaterial. That man was emphatically a fool, who said to his soul"Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry!" Can any of the combinations of material, gross, outward things satisfy the pinings of a spirit made in the image of God, and fill the abysmal depths of its capacities? It must occasionally speculate upon its origin and destiny. It must ever and anon revolve the awful problems of life and death, of time and eternity, moral probation and endless retribution. In quest of an adequate and self-satisfying enjoyment, it must often ask the question, "Who will show us any good?" Conscious of guilt, it must inquire, "How can a man be just with God?" What the soul wants is knowledge-truth, especially of a moral and spiritual kind. Its vigor comes from an enlightened, well-working conscience. Its wealth is not that vulgar thing which is reckoned in pounds sterling. Its property is cultivated moral sentiment, purified affections, high and holy communion with God and goodness. To make it rich, you must make it partaker of the provisions of mercy and grace in the gospel. It must find an interest in the favor of God through faith in the sacrifice of the redeeming Son. It must have a well-grounded and clearly ascertained consciousness of this favor. Then it possesses the peace which passeth understanding. Its satisfactions are all from within, and therefore independent of outward circumstances. Its joy is the exultant glow of a spirit in vital communion with the Supreme goodness, truth, and holiness; and it moves on in a path of brightening improvement-of jubilant progress towards an endless home in Heaven, the glorious goal of its aspirations and efforts. These are the treasures which the gracious soul finds in the gospel, and finding is satisfied, and rejoices and is glad all the days of its carthly pilgrimage. But, besides the soul is immortal. Its conscious existence outruns the brief limits of its probationary term on earth; survives the stroke of death which dissolves the body; and sweeps onward around the orbit of a measureless eternity. "The spirit shall return to Him Who gave the heavenly spark ; When thou thyself art dark." Long after the transitory things of earth are passed away and forgotten, it shall remain young, fresh, hale, in the earlier stages of its immortal career. Nothing deserves the name of treasure-provision for the future-which does not embrace immortality, and take in, as the main element of its reckoning, the eternal destination of the soul. How strikingly does St. Peter describe, though in negative terms, the reversionary wealth of those who are "begotten again"-as" an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in the heavens." Their crown is "a crown of life;" their glory, "a far, more, exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Earthly treasures, on the other hand, considered not in the light of talents to be used for the glory of God and the good of man -rested in as sources of enjoyment,-trusted to as a means of meeting future necessities,-fail, as a matter of course, to answer the wants of our immortal nature. They are of the earth, earthy; they perish in the using; or we fly away and leave them forever. "I have seen minute-glasses," says one of the old men eloquent of the 17th century," glasses so short-lived. If I were to preach upon this text, to such a glass, it were enough for half the sermon; enough to show the worldly man his treasure and the object of his heart, to call his eye to that minute-glass, and to tell him, there flows, there flies your treasure, and your heart with it. But if I had a secular glass, a glass that would run an age: if the two hemispheres of the world were composed in the form of such a glass, and all the world calcined and burnt to ashes, and all the ashes and sands and atoms of the world put into that glass, it would not be enough to tell the good man what his treasure and the object of his heart is." 66 Lay up for yourselves treasure in Heaven." There is, finally, an exhortation addressed to us on the basis of the foregoing considerations, to lay up heavenly treasures. And how strong is the appeal when the incorruptibility, security, and satisfying nature of these are considered. It is worth our while to make accumulations, if these may be depended on. We spend not our strength for nought. We labor with animating encouragement when we are sure that our labor tells with certain effect upon ultimate success. There is a strong instinct in the human bosom which prompts us to acquisition; which seeks for property; which goes out after a possession we can call our own; which can be added to and increased by daily or yearly accumulations. This instinct is most commonly turned into earthly channels, and expends its energies upon earthly objects. Christianity comes to refine, expand, ennoble it. It shows us durable riches: "Riches above what earth can give, And lasting as the mind " We are exhorted to add; to give all diligence to add. Abundance is attainable. Ampler wealth, vaster resources, enlarged opulence, incite our ambition and stir our laggard pulses. Is it of the nature of treasure to multiply? Then lay up treasures in heaven. He that had received five talents went and traded with them, and made them five talents more. "Lay up," by visiting the sick, and ministering to the wants of the destitute. "Lay up," by taking God's cause to heart. "Lay up," by taking God's cause in hand. "Lay up," by resisting a temptation, by acquiring or strengthening a virtue. Do you possess earthly treasures? Tremble at your danger; for "how hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven." Avert that danger by taking heed. to the Apostolic injunction: "Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not high-minded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life." Are you poor? "Godliness with contentment is great gain." What is time to eternity? "If a son, then an heir; an heir of God, and a joint-heir with Christ." Well may you be content, with such a destiny before you. Be rich in faith. Cherish the patience of hope. Your earthly capital may be small, and your accumulations may correspond. It matters little: your spiritual capital-your soul-treasure, is the main thing. Industry, activity, consecration to God-what accumulations will they not secure! Let shame flush our cheek when we see men of the world in pursuit of gold toiling by day, scheming by night, diverted from their object by no obstacle, alarmed by no danger, periling health, reputation, life itself, that they may lay up earthly treasures. We profess to put a right estimate upon these, in contrast with heavenly treasures; and yet how is our lagging zeal put to the blush, our feeble endeavors shamed, by the example. Lay up, lay up heavenly treasures! Dwarf not your expectations to the mean ambition of merely escaping hell-of reaching Heaven, so to speak, by shipwreck. Go for an ovation; more still, for a conqueror's triumph! Covet an abundant entrance. Aspire to a crown. Win a palace. All Heaven smiles on aspirations like these. Jesus himself bids you lay up. Build your accumulations higher, and higher still. Shine out, O, City of God, with jeweled gates and golden walls and streets! Attract us by the vision of thy loveliness, win us by the melody of thine anthems! Thou art our true and proper home: where else should be our treasures? The exhortation of our Lord, in the text, finds its closing consideration in the fact, that where our treasure is there will our heart be also. Now, nothing is more certain than that God claims our heart. The first and great commandment is, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength." This law is paramount. It lies against that subtle idolatry which is so often paid to wealth. No shrine may be set up; no pageantry of outward worship may mark the devotee. He may not bend the knee before an idol, the symbol of the divinity which rules his heart; and yet the homage may be profound as the depths of the soul. We have only to ask what subject engrosses the thoughts, and possesses the greatest attraction for us. We recoil from the |