2. But, perhaps, subjects of this nature, and the scene to which they refer, are too solemn for the gaiety of your temper. But, O remember, that scene (I mean that of death) in all its solemnity, will very soon be exemplified in yourself, as it constantly is, in the departure of multitudes, that drop beside you on the right hand and on the left. You are _young_. But youth, in its utmost vigor, is accessible to disease; and the most healthful constitution possesses no infallible antidote against the shafts of death; which make equal havock in the bodies of the youthful and robust, as in those of the aged and infirm:—Surely the sable ornaments of the pulpit, in which I stand, afford a most striking memorandum of this truth.—Death’s cold hand often seizes, and effectually chills the most blooming flower; and either nips it in the bud, or blasts all its full-blown beauties, just as they arrived at maturity. How many go off the stage of life, “in their full strength,” as the book of Job says! How soon might the _consumption_, that ravager of youth, if commissioned by the sovereign arbiter of life, lay thy blooming constitution in ruins! and reduce thee to such a state of languor and debility, that “the grasshopper should be a burden!” Yea, cannot death find access to thy frame, by innumerable avenues? Are not the seeds of mortality sown in the very substance of our bodies, and mingled with the minutest particles of their contexture? So that, “in the midst of life we are in death?” Are not our _end_, and our _origin_, DUST? If, therefore, health be so fading a flower, and the young are no less liable to disease and death, than the aged: is it wise, is it _safe_, to squander away your precious, your _precarious_ moments in vice and dissipation? Can you imagine that your business in this world, is nothing more than “to eat and drink and rise up to play?” Remember what was the dreadful fate of those who thought so, in the days of Noah. Is our time so _long_, that you can _spare_ such a considerable portion of it to vanity? Is it so much _at our disposal_, that we can even promise ourselves _to-morrow_? Or, is it of so _little value_, that we should throw it away upon pernicious lusts? “—Throw _time_ away?— Throw _empires_, and be blameless. Moments seize: _Heav’n’s_ on their wing. A _moment_ we may wish, When _worlds_ want wealth to buy!—” {400}