pleasing tale to our listening offspring, whose diverting prattle will revive the remembrance of our own childhood, and make the evening of life as cheerful as any part of the day. We have no fear, whatever others may suppose, that any years can come of which we shall say, we have no pleasure in them.”

If your ideas of future happiness be so sanguine, it would not be difficult to convince you of your mistake. But I shall confine my attention to the period alluded to in the words which have been read for our text, and hence I shall suggest the two following observations; that there are infirmities and disadvantages peculiar to old age; and that, therefore, it is your wisdom and interest to remember your Creator in the days of your youth.

We shall first consider some of the infirmities and disadvantages peculiar to old age.

We have a beautiful description of it in the verses following our text. "While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain; in the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened; and the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the sound of the grinding is low; and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters of music shall be brought low; also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the way, and the almond-tree shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burden; and desire shall fail: because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets."

One part of this description represents old age as impairing the mind.

This is meant by the sun, moon and stars being darkened. The light of the soul, if it be not entirely put out, is obscured; and nothing remains of its former lustre, but a gloomy, glimmering twilight. The apprehension of the aged is not so clear, nor their memory so strong, nor their affections so lively, as formerly; there is a visible and melancholy decay in all these faculties. They are incapable of bearing a part in common conversation. They ask the same questions again and again and at last but very imperfectly understand you, if they have not forgotten it, before you have time to give them an answer. Their memory fails, first as to names, then with respect to faces, and afterwards with regard to every thing else. They forget their nearest relations, and best-beloved friends; and even their own children appear to them as strangers. Scarcely any thing remains on the worn-out faculty, but some of the stronger impressions of youth. They relate over and over, some of the more remarkable events of early life, as circumstantially and gravely, as if they happened but yesterday. At times, they seem sensible of their condition; and at the sight of a particular friend, labour for words to express their pleasure: but, after repeated efforts, they signify, by a flood of tears, a vacant smile, and a most expressive silence, their inability to do it. The take no notice of what passes in this world: even their own domestic cares cannot engage their attention. The most interesting and disastrous events, which formerly would almost have broken their hearts, are now no more than a

pebble thrown into the water, which ruffles the surface for a moment, but quickly leaves it smooth as before. What is still more affecting, they sometimes lose all sense of the other world as well as of this. Instead of that desire of the means of grace, and delight in them, which they formerly experienced, Sabbaths and other days seem now alike. Their mornings and evenings, which for a long course of years, they had regularly spent in their closets, praying to their Father, who seeth in secret, those sacred hours now pass off as common time; not only without devotion, but almost without thought. This is old age, which young people are pleasing themselves with the hope of attaining.

It also enfeebles the body. Every part feels and shows it. What a collection of beautiful metaphors has the Preacher brought together, to represent the decay of this earthly tabernacle! It commences in some earlier than in others; and sometimes one organ fails first, and sometimes another. But the first symptom which the Preacher takes notice of, is the shaking of the hands. The keepers of the house tremble. The hands, by which the body is defended and maintained, and which, in young healthy people, are strong and steady, as old age comes on, grow feeble and paralytic; and sometimes to such a degree, as to render them even unable to feed themselves. Then the strong men bow themselves. The legs and thighs, which are the main pillars of the building, bend, and give way, and can no longer support their accustomed weight. See how they go, with shortened steps, and a stooping, tottering gait; first using one stick, then two; and then not able to walk at all. What

makes their confinement more irksome is, that those who look out of the windows are darkened-their sight fails; they can now only distinguish persons by their voices; they cannot help themselves to any thing they want; and which, to many, is the most grievous of all, they are unable to read the Bible: this used to be their refuge in trouble, and their song in the house of their pilgrimage, but is now to them as a sealed book, unless when, by the kindness of others, they sometimes have an opportunity of hearing a chapter.-I might easily enlarge the catalogue of bodily infirmities; but these are sufficient to show the total and pitiable helplessness of old age, in which young people are hoping to find pleasure.

It also lessens and embitters the comforts of life. "Desire fails." Persons thus advanced in age, no longer delight in those things which are highly grateful and entertaining to others, and once were so to themselves. Those objects, which all the world besides gaze at with admiration, old people look upon with perfect indifference. Even the sight of their relations, if they be able to see them, whom they once tenderly loved, is now as nothing to them; and when they are absent, they inquire not after them, for they do not find them wanting. Endeavour to entertain them with the sweetest strains of melody: they hear as if they heard not, for the daughters of music are brought low. Invite them to the grandest feast, and set before them the things which they were particularly fond of; they turn away with disgust, for the grinders cease, because they are few. In such a manner Barzillai describes the effects of old age. "I am this day fourscore years old, and can I discern between good and evil? Can

thy servant taste what I eat or drink?

Can I hear

any more the voice of singing men or singing women? Wherefore then should thy servant be yet a burden to my Lord the king ?"-So insipid are all the delights of sense to an old person, and yet this is the state in which young people expect to find pleasure!

Besides this, it multiplies and increases the troubles of life.

Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward. Every stage of life has its share; and they who live longest, often suffer most. They bury friend after friend, till at length they find themselves surrounded by strangers, alike unknown and unknowing. They not only outlive their acquaintance, but in a manner they outlive themselves. They are not what formerly they were. They have lost the vigour and sprightliness both of body and mind; and cannot bear trouble so well as they could. The grasshopper is a burden; and they rise at the voice of the bird. The least noise breaks their rest; and when once awake, they are impatient to get up. A little accident sometimes puts them out of humour; and forgetting their own weakness, they impute their uneasiness to the want of tenderness and dexterity in those who attend them. The clouds return after the rain. One ailment follows another,like a continual dropping in a rainy day ; and between real disorders and inaginary grievances, they are almost perpetually complaining. Yet young people will flatter themselves with the hopes of finding pleasure, where the old meet with nothing but trouble?

I shall only add, that it is the sure prognostic of approaching death. Their earthly tabernacle begins