Oh! it is a dreadful thing, to learn too late the true aim and issue of our being. Let us endeavor to learn it now, while repentance is hopeful, and Mercy waits for Wisdom. Let us compare our own erring views with the revealed views of God, and correct the former by the latter; and live not for the shadow, but for the substancenot for the transitory, but for the eternal. So shall the morning mists of delusion melt away before the risen sun of truth and righteousness; and the great day of trial shall develop in us, however regarded now by the ignorant and ungodly, a wisdom as much superior to the wisdom of this world, as heaven is to earth, or immortality to time.

The text remarkably exemplifies the difference of which we have spoken the difference between God's view and man's view, both of life and of death. It is God's account of the life and the death of . David-the true object of the one, the real nature of the other. How different would have been man's account of both. Man's account of David's life would have spoken of his heroism, his magnanimity, his poetic genius, and his royal policy; and man's account of David's death would have treated of the state in which he left his family and his kingdom, the profound grief of his children and his subjects, the pomp of his funereal pageant, and the immortal fame of his virtues. On the contrary, God's account of his servant's life develops the inward motive and principle of his conduct-the two great elements of charity and piety which formed his noble character-he "served his own generation by the will of God;" and God's account of his servant's death relates only to what is real and personal in that event the saint's release from labor, the man's return to dust,-he "fell on sleep, and was laid unto his fathers, and saw corruption."

Here is the true aim of life; and here is the proper view of death. May we learn to estimate both by this divine standard; and may the testimony hereafter be borne of us, which is thus borne of David. This, substantially, must be the record, or the contrary must be the record-either, that we lived a useful life, and died a peaceful death; or, that we lived solely to ourselves, and died utterly without hope. There is no medium character; there is no medium destiny; nor can the idler in the market hope to share with the laborer in the vincyard. Let us carry this thought along with us, while we proceed to consider,

1. The True Aim of Life.

Man's natural view of it, as we have already remarked, is very different from God's. He regards himself as sent hither to grasp and to enjoy as much as he can of the world-as much as he can of its riches, as much as he can of its pleasures, as much as he can of its honors, as much as he can of its science; and if anything compels him to remember that these things are uncertain and transitory, he only pursues them the more eagerly, or clings to them the more tenaciously, for the conviction; making the most of the short and fleeting hour for acquiring them, and in the hurry of its occupation forgetting the deceitful and unsatisfying nature of the acquisition. Many live as if this world were made merely for themselves-as if it were the only world, and they its only occupants; and all the discipline of • Providence-the winds of adverse fortune, the thwarted plans and blighted hopes, which make up the experience of worldly men-can never induce them to act upon any other view of the great end of life. It may make them modify their plans, or change the particular objects of pursuit, or despair of finding satisfaction in any attainment; but it will never alter the selfishness of their motives, and the sensuousness of their aims-it will never hinder them from looking to themselves, and to the world around them, and to their own personal command of a portion of what the world contains, as the chief source of their happiness. There is something in man, stronger than reason, and stronger than prudence, and stronger than conscience, which will make us live for ourselves-for the poor joys and petty interests of earth and time-regardless of heaven and eternity—till God visits the soul with the powerful illuminations of his truth, and the gracious influence of his Holy Spirit. Then, in this new light which beams upon the understanding, this new life which quickens the slumbering conscience, this incipient renovation of the moral man, we begin to see the present as God sees ees it-in its relation to the everlasting future, and enter into his own estimate of the true aim of life. Then we learn to look upon the chief object of our being as consisting, not in secking our own interests, or gratifying our own inclinations, or building the monuments of our own fame, or furnishing our own intellectual capacities; but simply in serving our own generation by the will of God-reflecting, as mirrors, the light which has been shed upon our souls-dispensing, as almoners, the bounty which has been placed in our hands-distributing to a suffering and famishing race

the living bread rained upon us from heaven, and the living water gushing for us from the smitten rock; nor daring, upon the peril of our immortality, to monopolize the manna, or seal up the fountain. Then we learn to regard ourselves, not as isolated and independent existences, without any responsible relations to the universe or its Author; but as members of the great human family, all mankind our brethren, and God the father of us all. Then we learn to appreciate the position and the work assigned us for the benefit of those whose nature we partake and whose redemption we share. Then we learn to "look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others." Then we learn to "seek not our own profit, but the profit of many, that they may be saved." Then we learn to "do good as we have opportunity unto all men, especially to them that are of the household of faith." Then we learn to trace his blessed. footsteps, of whom, as our example-the incarnation of virtue-it is recorded, that he "went about doing good."

Such are the promptings of grace. And they are seconded by the voice of nature. Does anything in the universe exist solely for itself? Why shines the sun, or beams the star? Why blows the wind, or falls the rain? Why blooms the rose, or waves the corn? Why spreads the meadow, or towers the forest? Why glides the river, or heaves the ocean? Why trills the mellow-throated thrush his anthem, or sings the morning lark his merry roundelay? Why travels the globe in its eternal circuit, or envelops its broad convexity the allpervading atmosphere? Why wings the angel his luminous way down the empyrean, or tabernacles among us, in suffering flesh, the very God of angels? It is all for the benefit of others-for the benefit of man-to sustain and bless his being, render him a blessing to his race, and conduct him to blessedness eternal. And shall man, thus ministered to by all the creation, and by the very Lord of creationshall man, wrapped up in himself, and all unmindful of his brethrenbe the solitary exception--an anomaly in the universe?

And does not our social constitution corroborate the preaching of universal nature? What mean these mutual attractions and interests-these relations of sympathy and dependence -- which prevail among mankind? Why are we constituted social beings, endowed with social faculties and affections? Why are we so made as to be necessary to one another's happiness--even to one another's subsistence? Why have we the power of speech, and the gift of reason,

and such means of influence, and such facilities of persuasion? Why are we linked together in families and communities, instead of being dispersed in cold isolation and desolate solitariness over the face of the earth? Why were we not created incapable of communicating our thoughts and feelings one to another, or without any of those sweet drawings of the heart which we experience toward our kindred and our kind? Is not the whole social arrangement an ordinance of God, and does it not indicate his will that we should serve our own generation?

And this view of the proper aim of life is confirmed by our continuance on earth after our preparation for heaven. Are we justified and regenerate? In our justification we received a gracious title to heaven, and in our regeneration we received an incipient meetness for heaven. Why were we not immediately removed to the celestial mansions? Does not our Heavenly Father love us enough to desire the completion of our happiness? Is it not the end of his whole gracious economy to bring many sons to glory?" Why, then, does he leave us in the world, when we are not of it; when we are in danger from it; when we are despised and hated by it; when our entire sojourn amid its changeful scenes can be nothing better than a pilgrimage of tribulation and of tears? "Poor wanderers of a stormy day!" why does he not transfer you at once to a place of perfect security and blessedness? Look around you for an answer. see you? Ignorance to be instructed, errors to be corrected, vices to be reformed, virtues to be confirmed, sorrows to be soothed, burdens to be lightened, broken hearts to be healed, suffering saints to be comforted, and sinners to be led to the Lamb of God. This is your appropriate work; and you are left on earth for a season, (though God would have you in heaven, and intends ultimately to bring you thither,) that you may serve your own generation.

What

But this service of charity is to be qualified by a motive of piety. We are not to lose ourselves in vague conjectures of duty, or selfish views of benevolence. The standard is erected; the method is prescribed--it is "the will of God." The work is neither self-chosen nor self-regulated; it is subject to the Divine appointment and the Divine control. We are to benefit mankind by doing the precise work which God has given us to do, in the exact manner which he has prescribed for doing it. So that in serving our generation, we also serve God. We serve our generation subordinately, God supremely.