# Last sermon of the Reverend James Hervey

THE LAST
SERMON
OF THE
Reverend JAMES HERVEY, D. D.
Rector of Weſton-Favell, in Northamptonſhire.
CONTAINING,
A WALK TO THE BURYING PLACE.
WITH
Obſervations on the Death of a wicked Perſon.
FROM DEUT. xxix. 19.
O that they were wiſe to conſider their latter end.
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
A HYMN ON THE LAST JUDGEMENT.
GLASGOW,
PRINTED BY J. AND M. ROBERTSON,
MDCCXCV.
INSTRUCTIVE LESSONS.
OH that they were wiſe, ſaid the inſpired writer, it was his laſt wiſh for his dear people; he breathed it out, and gave up the ghoſt. But what is wiſdom; it conſiſts not in refined ſpeculations, accurate reſearches into nature, or an univerſal acquaintance with hiſtory. The divine Law-giver ſettles this important point in his next aſpiration; O that they underſtood this! that they had right apprehenſions of their ſpiritual intereſt, and eternal concerns! that they had eyes to diſcern, and inclinations to purſue the things that belong to their peace?———But, how ſhall they attain this valuable knowledge; I ſent them not to run over all the volumes of literature, they may much more expeditiouſly acquire this ſcience of life, by conſidering their latter end. This ſpark of heaven is often loſt under the glitter of pompous erudition, but ſhines clearly in the gloomy manſions of the tomb; drowned in the gentle whiſper, amidſt the noiſe of mortal affairs, but ſpeaks diſtinctly in the retirements of ſerious contemplation.———Behold how providentially I am brought to the ſchool of wiſdom: The grave is the moſt faithful maſter, and theſe inſtances of mortality, the moſt inſtructive leſſons.———Come then, calm attention, and compoſe my thoughts: come thou celeſtial Spirit and enlighten my mind; that I may ſo eaſily peruſe theſe awful ​pages as to become wiſe unto ſalvation.
Examining the records of Mortality, I found the memorials of a promiſcuous multitude. They were huddled, at leaſt they reſted together, without any regard to rank or ſeniority. None were ambitious of the uppermoſt rooms, or chief ſeats, in the houſe of mourning. None entertained fond and eager expectation of being honourably greeted in their darkſome cells. The man of years and experience reputed as an oracle in his generation, was content to lie down at the foot of a babe. In this houſe appointed for all living, the ſervant was equally accommodated, and lodged in the ſame ſtory with his maſter. The poor indigent lay as ſoftly, and ſlept as ſoundly, as the moſt oppulent profeſſor; all the diſtinction that ſubſiſted was a graſſy hillock, bound with oſiers; or a ſepulchral ſtand ornamented with imagery.
Why then, ſaid my working thoughts, Oh, why ſhould we raiſe ſuch a mighty ſtir about ſuperiority and precedence, when the next remove will reduce us all to a ſtate of equal meanneſs? why ſhould we exalt ourſelves, or debaſe others, ſince we muſt all one day be upon a common level, and blended together in the ſame undiſtinguiſhed duſt? Oh that this conſideration might humble my own, and others pride; and ſink our imaginations as low as our habitation will ſhortly be.
Among theſe confuſed relicks of humanity, there are without doubt, perſons of contrary intereſts and contradicting ſentiments, but death like an able days-man, has laid his hand ​on the contending parties, and brought all their differences to an amicable concluſion. Here enemies, ſworn enemies, dwell together in unity. They drop every imbittered thought, and forget that they once were foes. Perhaps, their crumbling bones mix, as they moulder, and thoſe who, while they lived, ſtood aloof in irreconcileable variance, here fall into mutual embraces, and even incorporate with each other in the grave. Oh that we might learn from theſe friendly aſhes, not to perpetuate the memory of injuries; not to foment the fever of reſentment, nor cheriſh the turbulence of paſſion; that there may be as little animoſity and diſagreement in the land of the living, as there is in the congregation of the dead!
Here the man of buſineſs forgets all his favourite ſchemes, and diſcontinues the purſuit of gain. Here is a total ſtand to the circulation of merchandiſe, and the hurry of trade. In theſe ſolitary receſſes, as in the building of Solomon's temple, is heard no ſound of a hammer and axe. The winding-ſheet, and the coffin, are the utmoſt bound of all earthly devices: Hitherto may they go, but no further. Here the ſons of pleaſure take a final farewel of their dear delights.
The wicked ſeem to lie here, like malefactors in a deep and ſtrong dungeon! reſerved againſt the day of trial.--Their departure was without peace. Clouds of horror ſet lowring upon their cloſing eye-lids, moſt ſadly foreboding the blackneſs of darkneſs for ever. When the laſt ſickneſs ſeized their frame, ​and the inevitable change advanced: When they ſaw the fatal arrow ſitting to the ſtrings, ſaw the deadly archer aiming at their life; and felt the invenomed ſhaft, faſtened to their vitals———Good God! what fearfulneſs came upon them! What horrible dread overwhelmed them! How did they ſtand ſhuddering upon the tremenduous precipice; exceſſively afraid to die, yet utterly unable to live! O what pale reviews, what ſparkling proſpects conſpire to augment their ſorrows;—they look backward, and behold a moſt melancholy ſcene! Sins unrepented of, mercy ſlighted, and the day of grace ending. They look forward, and nothing preſents itſelf but the righteous Judge, the dreadful tribunal, and a moſt ſolemn reckoning. They roll around their affrightened eyes on attending friends. And, if accomplices in debauchery, it ſharpens their anguiſh, to conſider the further aggravation of their guilt, that they have not ſinned alone, but drawn others into the ſame ſnare. If religious acquaintance, it ſtrikes a freſh flaſh in their hearts, to think of never ſeeing them any more, but only at an unapproachable diſtance, ſeparated by the unpaſſable gulph.
At laſt, perhaps they began to pray: Finding no other way of poſſible relief, they are conſtrained to apply unto the Almighty. With trembling lips and faultering tongue, they cry unto that ſovereign Being, who kills and makes alive———But why, O why have they deferred their addreſſes to heaven ſo long! Why have they deſpiſed all his counſels, and ſtood incorrigible under his inceſſant reproof? ​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 ​received with frowns: The God that made them, has no mercy on them: The Prince of Peace, the Fountain of Felicity, rejects them with abhorrence, he conſigns them over to chains of darkneſs, and receptacles of deſpair, againſt the ſeverer doom, and more public infamy of the great day: Then all the phials of wrath will be emptied upon theſe wretched creatures: The law they have violated, and the goſpel they have ſlighted, the power they have defied, and the goodneſs they have abuſed: will all get themſelves honour in their examplary deſtruction. Then God, the God to whom vengeance belongeth, will draw the arrow to the very head, and ſet them as the mark of his inexhorable diſpleaſure.
Reſurrection, will be no privilege to them, but immortality itſelf their everlaſting curſe--Would they not bleſs the grave, that land! where all things are forgotten, and wiſh to lie eternally hid in its deepeſt gloom; but the duſt refuſes to conceal their perſons, or draw a vail over their practices. They alſo muſt awake, muſt ariſe; muſt appear at the bar, and meet the Judge, a Judge before whom the pillars of heaven tremble, and the earth melt away; a Judge once long-ſuffering and very compaſſionate, but now unalterably determined, to each ſtubborn offenders what it is, to provoke the Omnipotent Godhead, what it is to trample on the blood of his Son, and offer deſpite to all the gracious overtures of his holy Spirit, to whom be glory, honour, and immortal praiſe, now, and for evermore. Amen.
ON THE LAST JUDGEMENT.
SING to the Lord ye heavenly hoſts, And thou, O earth! adore, Let death and hell through all their coaſts, Stand trembling at his power.
His founding chariot ſhakes the ſky, He makes the clouds his throne, There all his ſtores of lightning lie, Till vengeance dart them down.
His noſtrils breath out fiery ſtreams, And from his awful tongue, A ſovereign voice divides the flames, And thunders roar along.
Think, O my ſoul, the dreadful day, When this incenſed God Shall rend the ſky, and burn the ſea, And ſting his wrath abroad.
What ſhall the wretch the ſinner do? That once defied the Lord, But he ſhall dread the thunderer now, And ſink beneath his word.
Tempeſt of angry ſtorms ſhall rage, To blaſt the rebell'd worm. And bear upon his naked ſoul. In one eternal ſtorm.
Infinite joy or endleſs woe, Attends on every breath, And yet how unconcern'd we go, Upon the brink of death.
FINIS.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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