provision against these evils, or will they change or lose their nature within the walls of this promised paradise? Ah! if his followers could have assurance of that, then, indeed, there might be some faint prospect of being happy—but he cannot; and they feel he cannot; there is, therefore, and there must always be, a worm at the root of their gourd, and poison at the bottom of their cup of pleasure. And what is there beyond the grave? Yes, I ask, what is there beyond the grave? “Oh that grave!” is the feeling cry of each of their minds: “if it were not for the grave, we should not mind, we should do very well;” but there is the grave; and again I ask, What is there beyond it? Oh! if any of those that have imbibed these principles should cast their eye on this page, I beseech them, by the worth of their souls, by the terrors of the Lord, by the solemnities of the judgment day, and by the miseries, the eternal miseries of hell to think of their state, and immediately to flee from the wrath to come. And let me tell them, for we have no delight in thundering out these awful realities, on the contrary, we rejoice to tell them, that if they repent, even for them, there is salvation, and eternal life through the blood of the Lamb. Oh then, we beseech them by the mercies of God, we beseech them by the dying love of Christ, as though God did beseech them by us, we pray them in Christ’s stead, “Be ye reconciled to God.” But what a contrast the Christian presents, to even the best and the happiest follower of Robert Owen, or even Robert Owen himself! It is true that he may not be rolling in wealth, nor surrounded by luxuries; his circumstances may be humble, and his situation may be poor; but he is happy, unspeakably happy! He has peace within, a peace which is not adventitious, which is not the result of circumstances, and will not change with them; it is “peace of conscience,” and “peace with God;” that “peace which passeth all understanding,” and which is full of glory: it is a peace which “the world cannot give, and which the world cannot take away.” It supports the mind in sickness, it cheers and comforts it in poverty and affliction, it smooths the pillow of death, it illumines and sheds a glorious radiance over the dark passage to the grave, and beyond the tomb it is converted into the fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore. Nor am I drawing an imaginary picture; I could refer to hundreds and thousands who will confirm the descriptions, as far as their present experience goes; and for the truth of the statement in reference to death, what multitudes of death-bed scenes have there been which have compelled even unbelievers to exclaim, “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his!”