have attended our Church Services, and knelt at our
Altars, some of them do so still. They have no vulgar vices, they
never swear, or exceed moderation in food and drink, they have wives
and families, and they pay their way like respectable householders.
And yet,--Oh! the pity of it--they are travelling on the broad road.
It is not open; disgraceful sin which has placed them there, but just
_worldliness_. The dust of the world has filled up every corner of
their life, and they have no room for God. The windows of their soul
are so begrimed with the dust and cobwebs of this life that the
sunshine of God's Holy Spirit cannot shine through them. One is so
taken up with his farm that his heart and soul seemed buried in the
soil of it. The Gospel message rings in his ear, but he makes light of
it. Another is so occupied with his merchandise, with making, and
getting, that he has no time to see how it stands with his soul, no
time to think of the account to be rendered to God when all earthly
accounts are closed for ever. One is so eager to obtain a good
position for himself, or his children, in the world, that he utterly
neglects to fit himself, or them, for a place in the world to come.
With some the idol is work, with others pleasure, but in either case
they worship an idol, and not God. There are women whose minds are so
taken up with the latest fashion, and the newest dress, that they have
neglected the white garment of holiness, and forgotten the old, old
fashion--death. My brothers, my sisters, take heed. It is not so much
the coarse vices of the brutal and ignorant which ruin souls, as the
selfish worldliness of those who ought to know better. If you are
living for self, for work, for pleasure, for society, for anything but
God, then, in spite of your respectable name, and your outward forms of
religion, you have slipped from the narrow way which leads to life
eternal. If you are determined to make this world your Heaven, you
must not be astonished if you are shut out of Heaven in the world to
come.

If these poor worldly folk could only see the end, could only
understand now how hollow and worthless, and disappointing, the things
of this world are at the last, they would cast aside every weight, and
strive to regain the narrow way of God's commandments. History is full
of instances of those who found, some too late, that the pleasures of
the world are worthless. How melancholy is the declaration of one