death, you say, when He shall urge us by His grace-at death, we will think upon it at death, we have other affairs now-at death, that will be the proper time to think upon God; now is the time to enjoy life. In this manner life passes away. But death is before your eyes, and what can you expect? what but that God will refuse to you at death, what you have refused during life-that He will make you feel that life was the time of grace, and not the time of pleasure? It is, then, an extreme temerity for any man living, to cherish the least hope of obtaining the grace of repentance in his last days—a temerity yet more criminal in the rich and the great. This is a second reflection.

2. Is it not enough for these to have had as their share the enjoy ments of the earth? to have seen pleasure and joy flow on all sides answerably to their desires? to have united to the indulgences which spring from fortune, all those which crime and passion can give? If, after a long course of years, passed away with impunity in this tranquillity, they could, by a single sigh, by the repentance of a moment, open to themselves the gates of heaven, and pass from the felicities of time to those of eternity, where would be the justice and providence of God? Who, among the prosperous and great of the world, would not abandon himself to his passions, on condition of spending the last hour of his life in sorrow, and buying an eternity of pleasures with a few forced tears? It is justice and providence in God, that the tears shed at death should be useless tears, in order that men in general, and the great in particular, might learn to weep over their guilt, and to seek their salvation before death. For this cause the wise man cries to all those who have power and authority, that they must expect nothing else but a judgment prompt and terrible. A judgment prompt by its surprises, and terrible by its rigor; prompt without admitting any leisure to contemplate it; and terrible without the hope of mitigation.

And, Christian hearers, in the only example which we have of Divine clemency toward a dying sinner-in that solitary instance of the goodness of God in such a situation, upon whom has it fallen? Upon a miserable wretch, unknown by name, known only by his crimes, and by the honor which he enjoyed of being crucified by the side of Jesus Christ. All the examples, on the contrary, of the insensibility of God to the repentance of the dying, are taken from the most exalted characters, the most illustrious sinners. It is thus he has made it conspicuous. That Esau, who implored with tears to be received as a penitent, and who was not received, was the father and the head of an entire nation. That Antiochus, whose

vain repentance has so often sounded in your ears, was the master of Asia, and the terror of all the East. Was it not of the greatest importance to the glory of the Lord to accept the submission of the greatest king who then existed; to see him magnificently repair the ravages which he had made in Jerusalem, establish the law of the true God throughout all his empire, and embrace it himself? What progress would not such a change seem to promise to religion? But to all this God appears to shut His eyes. He finds it a greater glory and a more important interest to undeceive the great respecting this false opinion: to show them that as He distinguishes them from others in the distribution of His favors, so if He honor them with forgiveness, they must from this time abase themselves to implore His pardon. He reproves the great, however penitent they appear, and lavishes the grace of repentance, so to speak, upon the head of a wretched brigand: because he sees more malignity, ingratitude, and presumption in the sins of the great than in the sins of the poor; a more voluntary inclination for all forbidden pleasures in the midst of all lawful enjoyments; a freedom from that want that hurries into vice, that necessity which presses on to it-and in the stead a continual abundance of all sorts of good, which aggravates their guilt-theirs, therefore, is the malignity of sin in all its extent. If there is, then, any favor to be hoped for by the sinner at death, it is less to be expected by the great than by the rest of the world.

3. And yet less still is mercy to be expected by those who have lived a long time in the world. This is my last reflection. I dare assert, sirs, that one of the most singular favors which God can confer upon men, not only with respect to their desires, but with respect to their salvation, is to give them a long life, which conducts them beyond the dangers of youth, and which affords. them leisure to lament their disorders, and to correct their errors. For, to whatever excess we may be abandoned in the blindness of youth, how can it be otherwise but that in a course of years we must be awakened by some disgrace, alarmed by some sorrowful accident, disgusted at last with the world from the usage of the world itself, and convinced of the necessity of communion with God? All these gifts of God are included in this gift of old age; in that age which we have always feared, and which we have always hoped. To abuse this gift by attachment to the world, to pleasure, and to sin, is then to irritate God in the most sensible manner, and to shut the treasury of His goodness against us forever. Every day God is prolonging your life, but you shorten not the chain of your sins. Your lengthened

ports him, and the zeal which animates him, change the nature of things upon this mountain. Sin appears to be no more sin. Murder becomes legitimate, and crime demands praise! Why? because God alone is his authority. He sees none but God; he hears none but God; he recognizes neither vice nor virtue but in relation to God.

True elevation of an holy soul! Sublime impulse of a heart inspired with zeal for God! Human virtues are only efforts which we make to sacrifice our passions and self-love, that we may exalt ourselves-efforts which do not prevent us from returning again to ourselves. But Abraham goes out of himself, and rises indeed to God! Never did the Deity regard a sacrifice with so much pleasure -never did heaven behold so delightful a spectacle !

But yet this is not the greatest object which our faith discovers here. It is not the sacrifice of Abraham which demands our highest admiration. There is yet something remaining, more worthy of his attention and of ours. He is now upon mount Moriah; but let him only lift up his eyes, and he shall behold the mount of Calvary. His son will discover to him his Saviour. The arm which he has lifted up, will show him the arm of God raised against the victim of the human race; and he will find an adorable mystery which saves him, in that strange sacrifice which has excited all the tender feelings of his heart.

SECOND PART.-In fact, my brethren, the sacrifice of Abraham has been handed down to us, as a great and splendid type of the sacrifice of the cross. Abraham immolates his only son. God also sacrifices His only Son. You see on Moriah a murder in appear ance, which conceals a sacrifice in effect. On the mount of Calvary you find an oblation, where you only thought you beheld an execrable murder. The victim of Abraham has received existence by a miracle; Isaac was conceived in the womb of a barren woman. The victim of God has come into the world by a birth yet more miraculous; Jesus Christ was conceived in the womb of a virgin. Isaac is represented to us as an innocent and submissive victim, who does not murmur even when his father stretches out his arm to sacrifice him. Jesus Christ was "holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sin ners;" He was "led as a lamb to the slaughter." Abraham has already seized the knife, and is about to plunge it into the bosom of his son, without having lost any of the tenderness which he has always had for him. The Eternal Father lays His strokes upon His Son, who has ever been the object of His delight, and in whom He has always taken the highest pleasure. Isaac, the foundation of the

promises of God, on whose life depended the hopes of the Church, and who seemed to include in himself all the benedictions of God, is about to be sacrificed upon a mountain, and even by the order of God. But what a wonder! Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Redeemer of Israel, He who must bring deliverance to Jacob, and who is only sent into the world to free him from his sins-that Jesus who, so to speak, holds in His hands all the graces and all the benedictions of heaven-is about to suffer death; and even by the eternal counsel of God!

Who is not surprised, also, at this event? Isaac, reviving, as it were, after his sacrifice, and in a certain sense arising from under the knife which his father had already suspended over him, leaves a posterity numerous as the stars of heaven, and as the sand on the seahore, in which are accomplished the promises and the oracles of God. Jesus Christ, really restored to life after the sacrifice of His body, and rising gloriously after His death, beholds an infinite number of His children and disciples who follow Him, and whom He renders partakers of all the graces, and of all the blessings of heaven; acaccording to that ancient prediction, "When thou shalt make His soul an offering for sin, He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand."

Behold the agreement which subsists between these two sacrifices, and which obliges us to consider one of these objects in the other, as in the most perfect type. But behold the difference which distinguishes them, and which discovers to us how much the image sinks below the original!

Go to Moriah, and you will find there a victim who follows the priest without knowing, at first, whither he is going, and who asks his father, "Where is the lamb for a burnt-offering ?" Turn your eye toward Calvary, and you will see Jesus Christ who exposes Himself voluntarily to the sword of His Father, and who, perfectly acquainted with His destiny, says to Him, "Lo, I come to do Thy will, O God." There angels are sent from heaven to arrest the arm of Abraham; Here devils issue from hell to hasten the death of Jesus Christ. In the sacrifice of Isaac, the fire, the knife, the sacrificer are visible, but the victim does not at first appear. In the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, the victim appears first, but the knife, which is the sword of Divine justice, and the fire, which consists in the ardor of His wrath and judgments, are invisible, are only seen by the eyes of faith. Upon the mountain of Moriah, Abraham sacrifices his son to his Master, to his Benefactor, to his Creator, to his God. Upon the mount of Calvary, God immolates His Son for the salvation of men, who are

nothing but meanness, misery, and corruption. There Abrahain renounces his blood and himself to obey a God who can amply reward him for his loss. Here God gives what He esteems the most precious to save men, who have not even the means of so much as expressing their gratitude, and who could not find it in their own bosoms to do it. There we see one who is but dust and ashes, making a sacrifice to God of what he received from Him. Here we see the Deity sacrificing the object of His eternal affection and delight-His treasure-His Son-for the salvation of dust and ashes. In fine, in the one, is a man who is sacrificed to God-in the other, is a God who is sacrificed for man.

Here flesh and blood must be silent, and cease to murmur. Abraham does infinitely less for God, than God had done for Abraham. He presents his son-he binds to slay him. But God had already slain His Son for the salvation of Abraham; for this, in the language of Scripture, is the "Lamb slain before the foundation of the world." Heaven has therefore prevented the earth. And does Abraham, then, exalt himself by this action? No; he remains profoundly abased before his Creator. Does he not attempt to justify himself before God? No; but he lays himself under new obligations. He receives all from God, when he seems to give up all to God; since the father and the son, the priest and the victim, have no real existence save in the regard that God already had to the sacrifice of the cross. Had not God already sacrificed His Son for the salvation of Abraham, Abraham would not have been in a condition to sacrifice his son to God. It is the efficacy of the blood which Jesus had shed, that gives strength to Abraham, to raise the arm that he may shed his own blood. The virtue and the zeal which are so illustriously displayed upon the mountain of Moriah, have their source and substance upon the mount of Calvary. Thus, my brethren, the sacri fice of Jesus Christ is found in the sacrifice of Isaac; the sacrifice of Isaac in its accomplishment in its type, is found in the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. From the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, proceed the strength and virtue which inspire Abraham; from the sacrifice of Abraham, proceeds the light which discovers the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. But both must be found in the sacrifice of our hearts, which is their legitimate and natural end. This is the third object of our meditation, with which we purpose to finish this discourse.

THIRD PART.—It is very proper that we should admire the two Treat objects which we have just set before you; but permit us to say