his regal splendor, and solitary and pensive on earth, he was brought a prisoner to Jerusalem. As he was led forward to the spot of execution, and gazed upon the fatal axe by which he was to be cloven down, he exclaimed, in the words of our text, "Surely the bitterness of death is past."

Life, being the highest, the dearest gift of the munificent Creator, is consequently, when enshrined in virtue, the greatest possible blessing to the creature; and, in competition with it, all other blessings dwindle into insignificance and nothingness. It is that proud boon of inconceivable worth, which stamps, at once, all other blessings with value. It is the breathing spirit of the Almighty animating an organized frame, and conferring delight. As life is therefore sweet, so death, its opposite, is bitter. And as death tears us from all that we love and fondly cherish on earth, tears us from our homes and kindred, from the embrace of parents, friends, and children, from the glories of nature and the dear light of mortal life, so it has been, with the soundest propriety, styled the "king of terrors."

But sweet as is life, and terrible and bitter as is death, yet such a combination of circumstances may transpire, as in the case of Agag, as shall not only overpower life, but remove the bitterness of death, and force us to let go our eager

grasp on the world. When, by any train of providential events or of unforeseen misfortunes, our earthly hopes are blasted and our brightest expectations and prospects are darkened, if the clouds of adversity lower and thicken around our heads, and obscure and darken our bright mental sky ; — if those, whom we loved, and by whom we were beloved, are gone, we are then often weaned from the objects of this momentary being, and, in view of the accumulated woes that surround us, we can exclaim, "Surely the bitterness of death is past," even before we feel its icy hand. The moment that all the pleasures of life are overbalanced by pain and distress, either of body or mind, with no cherished hope of relief, we then gladly resign ourselves to death, and seek repose in its solemn shroud. This was the case with Agag, who, being a heathen, entertained no hope of a future existence through a resurrection in Christ. The bitterness of death was past to him, because all the joys of his existence were overpowered by distress.

Human life is a momentary dream; an empty shade. Like as the lightning, which writes its fiery path on the dark cloud and expires, so human existence is but a meteor's blaze. It is of ten bright and dazzling in its momentary course, is attended with many delights, but, like the lightning's flash, expires in the darkness of death.

We come into existence ignorant and helpless. The first idea of which we have any distinct remembrance is, that we were encircled by a mother's arm, and hung upon a mother's smile. In her society, with those toys and playthings she gave us, was created our first little world. There we received our first impressions of those pleasurable delights of which our natures are so susceptible. From that dear twilight of our being we pass on to youth, thence to manhood and age; and in every period we find those enjoyments, which the hand of Heaven has sown in the whole path of mortal life, from infancy to age, and so varied those enjoyments as exactly to adapt them to each season and period of our present existence. But perhaps the happiest, as well as the most interesting, period of human life is the bloom of youth, when just ripening into manhood. Then the bones are moistened with marrow. The crimson current of life flows full, free, and warm, in its destined channels. The heart beats high with dearest hopes of earthly bliss, and the cheeks are mantled with living smiles. The step is firm and elastic, and through the lustre of the eye beams the ripening genius of the soul. Crime has not yet stained the hands, nor guilt polluted the fountains, of the heart. It is a stranger to disappointment and woe. Nothing but fairy dreams of bliss linger in its inmost recesses. The world

seems a realm, whose tranquil serenity was never disturbed by adverse storms of suffering and pain; nor its sky overcast by clouds and darkness of affliction, distress, and gloom.

Not only the world shines an Eden filled with flowers of perennial bloom, but his associates and companions seem angels, ministering to his delight. Wherever he goes, fond dreams of happiness spring up in his imagination. Fair forms of pleasure seem to dance in his path, and the silken charms of affection cluster around his heart, and in ten thousand strings of purest love bind him to his dear sisters, brothers, and to the social companions of his early life forever. Here all is sunshine,—all is joy, -all is a bright mid-day dream. Here then the mind clings to life, with all the burning ardor of youthful fire, and naturally shudders at the thought of death.

And is it possible that a blooming youth, in the full possession of all these enjoyments, could be brought, not only to resign the whole, but to soar so far in moral and intellectual grandeur, and to feel so deeply resigned to God, and attain such a manly conquest over the tomb, as to realize the weight of our text, "Surely the bitterness of death is past"? I answer yes; it is even so. And brother Parker, whose death we deplore, is the youth, who has left the stage of action under such circumstances of magnanimous triumph. And

what, it may be asked, removed from him the bitterness of death, and gave him victory? In answer to this question, I would first reply negatively, that it was not the loss of all those whom he held dear on earth, as in the case of Agag. No, his existence was not poisoned, the sky of his mortal life was not obscured, and the innocent pleasures and enjoyments of his youth were not blighted forever in the destruction of his kindred and friends. He was not left solitary and pensive on earth. No, he had kind brothers, who were dear to his heart. He had most amiable and affectionate sisters, who were the light of his abode, and a tender mother, who, to the last throbbing pulse of life, stood by his couch of pain, and administered to his wants. Nor was he brought to surmount and triumph over the bitterness of death by the pains of a wasting consumption, overpowering the pleasures and enjoyments of life. No, long before his disease had made any advances, - while he was yet in his usual health and happiness, he often mentioned to me that death to him had no terrors, on that subject his mind

was at rest.

The question then returns, what was it that removed the bitterness of death from the mind of this young man, in the very bloom of youth, with all its fairy hopes and sunny smiles resting upon his head? I answer, that it was the power of his