What do we believe? That, after this life, which experience tells us must soon terminate, and which may, at any moment, be unexpectedly and suddenly brought to a close, we shall immediately enter upon another and an eternal state of being; and that our condition, in the endless life to come, will be happy or miserable, according to the manner in which we have passed our short pilgrimage upon earth, whether in a belief of the gospel or in unbelief; in obedience or disobedience; in holiness or sin. Now, if we really and vitally believe these truths, their importance is so striking, that nothing could possibly suggest to the mind a weightier consideration. And if these truths be only superficially credited, it must be owing to some corrupt and perverted affections, which throw a veil over the understanding, and render it proof against all moral means of conviction. Perhaps some strange and startling occurrence, such as the re-appearance of a friend from the dead, might forcibly affect the imagination for a time; and, filling us with alarm and apprehension, might fill us also with vehement resolutions of amendment: but the imagination is a weak principle to build upon; the impressions it receives are commonly very transient; they gradually wear away on the presentation of fresh images, in our commerce with the world: and if there be not a solid spiritual conviction, in the mind and heart, of the awful realities of an hereafter, if the conviction does not rest upon the divine evidence accorded by the Spirit and the word of God, the effects of sudden surprise or consternation will soon vanish away; the latent dispositions of the soul will break forth again; the old habits, of recklessness and evil, be reassumed; the world again victorious. For the truth of these things, I appeal, if not to yourselves, (as in many instances, I reasonably may) but if not, to those around you. How many examples have occurred, within the compass of your own experience, of extraordinary visitations having produced but a very short-lived influence upon the heart and character? How often have we seen the careless awakened by an alarming sickness, by an approach of the king of terrors, (which can hardly be supposed less convincing than an angel from heaven, or a spirit from the blest), and yet awakened only to return, on the removal of danger, to the slumbers of insensibility and sin. The solemn promises, which the terrified sinner made to his friends, his minister, and his God, were but the offspring of fear; the creatures of imagination; born only for the moment; soon disappearing, when the crisis was past.