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How often have they been forewarned of theſe terrors, and moſt importunately intreated, to turn to the Lord!— I wiſh, they may find favour at this laſt hour. But alas! who can tell whether affronted Majeſty will lend an ear to their complaint? He may for ought any mortals know, laugh at their calamity, and mock when their fear cometh.
Thus they lie groaning out the poor remains of life, their limbs bathed in ſweat, their heart ſtruggling with convulſive throbs; pain inſuperable, throbbing thro' every pulſe; and innumerable darts of agony transfixing their conſcience.
If this be the end of the ungodly; My ſoul come not thou into their ſecret, unto their aſſembly mine honour he not thou united! Oh how awfully accompliſhed is that prediction of inſpired wiſdom! ſin, tho' ſeemingly ſweet in the commiſſion, in the iſſue biteth like a ſerpent, and ſtingeth like an adder.
Happy diſſolution, were this the period of their woes. But alas, all their tribulations, are only the beginning of ſorrows; one ſmall drop of that cup of trembling, which is mingled for their future portion.—No ſooner has the laſt pang diſlodged the reluctant ſoul: but they are hurried into the preſence of an injured angry God: not under the conducting care of beneficent angels, but expoſed to the inſults of curſed ſpirits who lately tempted them, now upbraiding them, and will for ever torment them.—Who can conceive their confuſion and diſtreſs; when they ſtand guilty and inexcuſable, before their incenſed Creator? They are
