abodes of the blest. Or take another illustration. A stage-coach was
once upset. Many of the passengers were in great danger. One man
snatched a little babe from among the wheels, and laid it down in a
place of safety on the roadside. Twenty years after the same man was
travelling in a stage, on the same road, and telling those around him
about the accident which had taken place a long time before. A young
lady, sitting opposite, was listening to the narrative with eager
interest, and at last she burst out with rapture, "Is it possible that
I have at last found my deliverer? I was that little babe you rescued!"
Something like this will be the disclosures that death will make.
Having thus illustrated the inheritance of the people of God, let me
ask you (said he) who are not his people--what will all these things be
to you, if you die without Christ? The living ministry? The world?
Life? Death? Having spoken briefly, with power and pathos, on each of
these particulars, he very coolly and deliberately turned to Rev. xxii.
17, and read, "The Spirit and the Bride say, Come; and let him that
heareth say, Come," &c., &c., and closed abruptly, with neither an Amen
nor an invocation of any kind.

Such was the first sermon I heard in the United States. It was
thoroughly evangelical and good; but I listened to it with mingled
feelings. It was painful to think that such a ministry could co-exist
with slavery. The creed it is evident may be evangelical, while there
is a woful neglect of the duties of practical piety.




LETTER V.