And, last of all, analyze that imaginary thing that we call posthumous fame; and see whether there is any thing but v anity here. The man has died and gone to his account. As an inhabitant of the grave, he knows not anything; as an inhabitant of the eternal world, he is mingling in scenes of such surpassing interest as to cast into the shade and render it utterly insignificant whatever relates merely to earth. Be it so that they have laid him in a decorated coffin, and are casting their garlands upon it in honor of his memory. Be it so that the voice of panegyric is lifted up concerning him, and the very air is fragrant with his praise. Be it so that his deeds are chronicled by the historian, and his name and his memory sacredly guarded and embalmed. But what matters all this to him, when he is shut up an insensible clod in his coffin? It is worthy of a man to do good and to be good, that his benign influence may be perpetuated after he is gone; but to be a seeker of posthumous fame for its own sake, as if it could affect, in a favorable way, the condition of the man after he has passed out of this world, were nothing better than the mad chasing of a shadow. There is no posthumous enjoyment in this phantom; the enjoyment is all in anticipation.

Is it not true, then, I ask, that "every man, at his best state, is altogether vanity?" Let him be whatever he will, or occupy whatever place he may, in reference merely to the present world he is vanity. But, surely this is not doing him full justice. If religion be not a dream, if there be any light even in man's reason, there is something to redeem him from insignificance. That something is immortality. Though, if this were the only state of being, man's intellect would seem to accomplish but little,-nothing of sufficient importance to justify infinite wisdom in creating it; yet, as it is destined to operate in another and a higher sphere, far away from this region of clouds and mists, and to develope itself in an endless career of improvement and bliss, it disconnects itself from all ideas of vanity, and gathers an importance and glory, such as, in its present infantile state, it is inadequate to conceive. Life is too much a scene of trouble to be in itself very desirable; and even if it were otherwise, it is too brief to be an object of great importance; but when considered as the germ of immortality, as the period of probation, as having in it the elements of deathless joy or wo, no tongue can describe, no imagination can reach, the importance that pertains to it. Death seems to render it of little mo

ment, because it terminates it so soon; and yet it is death that redeems it from its vanity, that redeems man from his vanity, by not merely changing the mode, but greatly elevating the character of his existence.

I hardly need say, that the train of thought into which I have now led you, has been but an echo to the voice of Providence. An event has just occurred, which has shown us more impressively than mortal tongue could utter it, that "man, at his best state, is altogether vanity." In other words, a great man, an old man, a man upon whom the eyes of the nation, the eyes of the world, have long been fixed, has fallen at last. Death stole upon him while yet he had his harness on; and already it has fallen upon the ear of millions, that the illustrious patriot and statesman of half a century has finished his course.

If we turn our eye backward and mark the progress of his career, it is impossible but that we must arrive at the conclusion that he has furnished a marked example of "man in his best state!" He was illustrious in his birth; his father had been great before him; had been one of the ruling spirits in the storm of the revolution; had sat in the highest council of the nation, when the nation's life or death was the pending question; had transacted business of high import in behalf of his country with foreign powers; and finally had been elevated to the most responsible and the most honorable place to which human ambition could aspire. It were not a small thing surely to be the son of such a father. And then, he inherited, perhaps it is not too much to say, all his father's intellectual greatness; or if in some respects the father was greater, in others the son exceeded him. He had a grasp of mind, an ability to grapple with difficult subjects, and to comprehend the remote relations of things, which few men of his own or any other age have ever evinced. He had a memory that received every thing,-that retained every thing; and so varied and vast were his acquisitions, that it was not easy to start a subject upon which he was not thoroughly at home. He had an indomitable energy and perseverance, that never grew faint in the pursuit of any object, and that opposition served only to excite and quicken. His opportunities for intellectual culture were probably hardly exceeded by those of any other man in modern times; for to say nothing of the fact that his mother as well as his father was pre-eminent for talents and accomplishments, and was most assiduous in conducting his early education, he was

a mere stripling when he was introduced into the diplomatic school, and, with the exception of the time that he passed at the university, he was always an active participator in the scenes and responsibilities of public life. He never knew any other condition than that of affluence; whatever wealth could furnish to gratify taste, to aid in a course of honorable ambition, or in any way to promote his enjoyment or usefulness, his fortune put within his reach. He occupied successively almost every high place, not excepting even the very highest, which the nation had in her gift; in this respect it is confidently believed that he stood pre-eminent among all his illustrious countrymen. And he had a physical constitution worthy of his intellectual; a constitution that seemed proof against hardship, and that rendered him active, strong, sometimes even terrible in his old age. And the news of his illness, and then the news of his death, diffused itself like lightning, in lightning, every where; and his name to-day hangs upon the lips of the nation. And presently we shall read the account of the imposing ceremonial, the solemn pageantry, amidst which his mortal remains will have been entombed; and then we shall have eulogy upon eulogy from every part of the land, until nothing more can be said in honor of his memory; and, last of all, his name, his character, his deeds of statemanship and patriotism and philanthropy, will descend on some of the brighter pages of his country's history to the end of time. I greatly doubt whether there is another individual living, who, in so many respects, furnishes an example of "man in his best state," as he whose death the nation now mourns.*

And yet the event that has just occurred, (for I will speak here of nothing else,) proves that man, in his best state, is vanity. There he is, exercising his faculties for the nation's weal;-an old man indeed, but he has lived so long and done so much, that still more is expected of him. In an instant, it is seen that death has taken him in hand; and now the politics of the venerable sage are forgotten; his political foes and his political friends share in common the agitation of the scene; he is conveyed to another

*The religious character of Mr. Adams is not particularly noticed in this discourse, because, at the time it was preached, the author knew too little of it to speak intelligently. Since that time, he, in connexion with the Christian community at large, has been gratified with the abundant evidence that has been furnished of Mr. A's. serious regard for the institutions of religion, and his daily and diligent study of the word of God, as well as the high sense of duty which controlled him in all the walks of life.

apartment; and because he is seen to be dying, the business of the nation stands still. He has lived long, and had a giant's strength; but he is dying at last. His brow is encircled with wreaths,-the gift of his grateful country; but the death sweat is there notwithstanding. It is a place of honor,—a place, perhaps, where never man died before, in which he is breathing out his life,-but death deals with him not a whit more leniently than he would with a beggar. The great men and the mighty crowd around, and one of the very chiefs, who, in other days, has been associated with him in office and in honor, grasps his palsied hand and weeps; but death mocks at the tears of friendship and keeps steadily at his work. At length the body becomes a clod, and the spirit flies off to mingle in eternal scenes. Come now, ye whom the world dazzles and bewilders, and see what this universal leveller has done. Join the long procession, if you will, that follows him to the grave, and remember that that is the end of "man in his best state;"and answer it to your conscience, whether he be not "altogether vanity."

Such an event as this, my friends, is monitory to the nation. If it proclaims most impressively that "man, at his best state, is vanity," then it rebukes us as a nation for our trust in man, and charges us to place our ultimate confidence in God only. I rejoice in all the legitimate respect that is shown to our rulers. I rejoice that when a great and useful man dies, the voice of party is dumb, and they who opposed his measures, yet pay a willing tribute to his memory. I cannot but think that there was goodness in the providence that ordained that the extraordinary man who has now departed, should have been called away in circumstances that furnished an opportunity for such a beautiful and affecting tribute to his worth, in connection with his passage from one world to another. But, after all, I would that it were written upon the heart of every citizen, "Cease ye from man;-from man even in his best state; for his breath is in his nostrils." Let your rulers be as great and useful as they may, they are, after all, but men; and in the very act of consulting your interests, they may be taken away to be dressed for the tomb. Render to them then a suitable homage; but I say again, put your ultimate trust in God. Commit your country continually to his care, and trust in him to direct its destiny; and, though all your rulers may die, must die, the nation will survive in strength and glory.

SERMON CI.

BY REV. DANIEL C. EDDY,

PASTOR OF THE FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH, LOWELL, MASSACHUSETTS.

THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST CONTEMPLATED AS THE POWER OF GOD.

For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation, to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek. Romans i. 16.

THIS is an age of Infidelity. What men once called skepticism is now denominated reason; and cold, lifeless formality is dignified by the name of religion. Christianity, once pure as the source whence it emanated, is now converted into an elastic mantle to cover every notion, from the life-giving doctrines of the Church of Christ, to the wild vagaries of the Church of Rome. Reason, blinded by sin, is elevated above the voice of God. The doctrines once taught by Christ, are exchanged for the traditions of men; and the ordinances of the church are made subservient to the interests of designing and ambitious tyrants. The question, then, How are the waves of this tremendous tide to be driven back? becomes one of fearful import. The world has become a moral suicide, and needs all the divine energy of another reformation. The world is lost; and a saving principle is demanded, which has never been found to slumber in its own bosom. The world is corrupt; and loudly calls for a reformatory power which it does not itself possess. This saving principle, this reformatory power, you find in the gospel of Christ. The remedy for human woe is found at the cross, and on this divine and sacred centre of our holy religion rests the hopes of the perishing children of earth.

This leads me to remark,

I. THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST IS THE POWER OF GOD UNTO THE SALVATION OF MAN, AS AN INDIVIDUAL.

It is adapted to his moral nature. He is a sinner, and, as such, the violated law can have no agreement with him. He has slain himself, and the living law has no agreement with his decayed