self agreeable, by betraying his conscience; charitable, who makes his house and interest the refuge of his fellow-creatures, and himself the consolation of the afflicted; regards his wealth as the property of the poor; humble in affliction, Christian under injuries, and penitent even in prosperity. Who will merit salvation? You, my dear hearer, if you will follow these examples; for such are the souls to be saved. Now these assuredly do not form the greatest number. While you continue, therefore, to live like the multitude, it is a striking proof that you disregard your salvation.
These, my brethren, are truths which should make us tremble; nor are they those vague ones which are told to all men, and which none apply to themselves. Perhaps there is not in this assembly an individual, who may not say of himself, "I live like the great number; like those of my rank, age, and situation; I am lost, should I die in this path." Now, can any thing be more capable of alarming a soul, in whom some remains of care for his salvation still exist? It is the multitude nevertheless, who tremble not. There is only a small number of just, which operates apart its salvation, with fear and trembling; all the rest are tranquil. After having lived with the multitude, they flatter themselves they shall be particularized at death; every one augurs favourably for himself, and chimerically thinks he shall be an exception.
On this account it is, my brethren, that I confine myself to you who, at present, are assembled here: I include not the rest of men: but consider you, alone existing on the earth. The idea which occupies and frightens me, is this,—I figure to myself the present, as your last hour, and the end of the world; that the heavens are going to open above your heads; our Saviour in all his glory, to appear in the midst of this temple; and that you are only assembled here to wait his coming, like trembling criminals, on whom the sentence is to be pronounced, either of life eternal, or of everlasting death; for it is vain to flatter yourselves that you shall die more innocent than you are at this hour. All those desires of change with which you are amused, will continue to amuse you till death arrives; the experience of all ages proves it; the only difference you have to expect, will most likely be only a larger balance against you than what you would have to answer for at present; and from what would be your destiny, were you to be judged this moment, you may almost decide upon what will take place at your departure from life. Now, I ask you, (and, connecting my own lot with yours, I ask it with dread,) were Jesus Christ to appear in this temple, in the midst of this assembly, to judge us, to make the dreadful separation between the goats and sheep, do you believe that the greatest number of us would be placed at his right hand? Do you believe that the number would at least be equal? Do you believe there would even be found ten upright and faithful servants of the Lord, when formerly five cities could not furnish so many? I ask you. You know not; and I know it not. Thou alone, O my God! knowest who belong to thee.
