Let me, then, conjure you to make a faithful application of these principles and reasonings. My argument is before you.

I have drawn your attention to the intrinsic beauty and worth of a youthful character, conscientiously devoted to the service of God. I have asked you to contemplate it as an incentive to go and do likewise. I have also presented to you the prospect of success, if you seek God in early life; and one of the most fearful consequences of delay. What

is your decision? Now, my dear young friend, I trust you will not decide against your own convictions of what is right, and wise, and good, and fraught with eternal blessings. You will not say, True, the young monarch whose character I have contemplated did right. Every angel in heaven, every man on earth, and every fallen being, must approve his course. God approved it, and Josiah's own conscience approved it. I know it is a right example, but I cannot make up my mind to follow it. It was a wise thing-it was beautiful, in him, to turn away from the splendours of royalty to seek the God of his father David; to prepare himself

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for doing good; and, then, to pursue that noble career of usefulness. I cannot but admire a young man that will take a moral position so godlike. But, I cannot give up my pleasures and my plans, for the sake of occupying the same position. I perceive clearly that the consequences of that manly and noble choice to become a servant of God are most delightful, wonderful, glorious. I cannot think of the twenty-four and a half centuries which he has already spent in a pure and heavenly state, without feeling that it would be worth my while to be a servant of God too; but, then, I do not wish to make the necessary sacrifices. Oh no, my young friend, you will not thus resolve to act against your convictions. You will not say, True, God has made promises to them that seek him early, but I do not wish to avail myself of them. You will not say, I admit that the warnings addressed to those that refused to listen to God's calls at an early period are awfully solemn, but I must banish them.

No, you will call up these thoughts, and follow them all with conclusions of an oppo

site character, will you not? Will you not say, Yes, that example is right, and I will also do right: I will take a course which every moral being in the universe must approve: I see the wisdom and beauty of the position which the young prince of Judah assumed: I see that it would become me as well as it became him, and by the grace of God I will take the same position: I perceive that God has encouraged the young to seek him, and given most solemn warnings of the danger of delay: I will seek him now: I will delay no longer : this day, this hour, shall witness my earnest prayer for grace, the consecration of all my powers to the service of my Maker? Dare I make the solemn vow to be the Lord's? Will God be with me? Will he give me strength? Shall I meet the necessary encouragement? Yes, trembling soul, God will give you strength if you will but trust him. The atoning blood of Jesus will cleanse you. The Holy Spirit, the Comforter, will be imparted to you. The saints will bless you. Angels will rejoice over you. The hope of eternal life, as a cheering cordial, will be poured into your soul. You will become

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calm and tranquil. You will be satisfied that you have found your proper place in the scale of being. You will wonder at the moral transformation, and ask with the converted Saul, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?"

SECTION II.

INFLUENCE OF SINFUL ASSOCIATES.

THIS world is a wilderness, and life is a journey. The paths along which men are pursuing their way are various. They conduct the traveller sometimes over prairies enamelled with wild flowers, and sometimes through forests where savage beasts are prowling. At one period the pilgrim rests by quiet fountains; at another he passes along the verge of frightful precipices, crosses swollen torrents, or threads his way through mountain gorges beset with robbers. While there is much, in the career of every one, that is agreeable and safe, there is much, also, that is fraught with danger.

Of these dangers a two-fold division may be made. One class is obvious and appalling; the other is concealed and deceptive. The latter is by far the more fatal. The roaring torrent, whose noise and fury warn