March 21

"What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death?" — Psalm lxxix. 45.

WE have much to lead us to a consideration of our latter end. Time, in its measured portions, is continually wearing away; there is an annual death in nature; day after day sinks into the grave of night, and a solemn voice re-echoes from the hollow sepulchre, "What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death?" Let us contemplate

MAN'S LIFE. It may be regarded in many points of view.

Its sorrows. The time of our life is like the ocean in a storm, where one wave rolls incessantly upon another. What trying scenes! what painful anxieties! "Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward."

Its uncertainty. Dangers surround, us both seen and unseen: death lurks in secret ambush, and often rushes on his prey without a moment's warning. All around us ministers to our destruction: the air we breathe is big with death — the medicine that purifies, exhausts — the labors in which we engage, enfeeble us — and we are hastening to the house appointed for all living.

Its shortness. We have noticed the shadow swiftly passing along the ground in a cloudy day, suddenly darkening the places irradiated before by the beams of the sun, but as quickly disappearing. Such is the life of man; for he fleeth as a shadow, and continueth not.

Its value. Who can estimate it aright? How sublime are the purposes for which it is given! It is the day of salvation; it is the golden season when grace may be obtained; it is the period when the ship of the Gospel lies in our harbor, bound for Immanuel's land, waiting to take us in as passengers to that port of peace. Its allotted portions can never be re-measured; no rhetoric can recall time past; no price can redeem it. Improve it, therefore, by applying your heart unto wisdom.