There are many, especially among the young, who seek present pleasure in foolish and sinful deeds, vainly believing the wicked may flourish and receive the blessing of the good.  Believe me, young friend, such hopes are delusive, and such expectations will suddenly perish.  Let fools laugh and mock at sin, and live as if God were not; but consider well the path of your feet!  When your weak arm can hold back the globes which circle in space above us in solemn grandeur and beauty forever, then may you hope to arrest the operation of those laws which preserve an everlasting connection between obedience and blessedness, sin and sorrow.

In the spring-season of life, how beautiful are the visions which Hope spreads out to our admiring view, as we go forth, with gladsome heart and step, amid the duties of life, its trials and temptations.  It begets manly effort by its promises of success, and leads us to virtue and self-denial, in our weakness and sin.  When our heads are bowed to the earth in despondency and gloom, hope putteth forth her hand, scattereth afar the clouds, dispelleth our sorrow; and again, with a firmer step and a more trustful heart, we go forth on the solemn march of life!  It is our solace and strength in the hours of woe and grief, when those in whose smile we have rejoiced pass from our presence and homes to the valley and shadow of death.  And if we weep that they are not, and can never return,

   “Hope, like the rainbow, a creature of light,
   Is born, like the rainbow, in tears,”

and we rest in the calm and blest assurance that we shall ultimately go to them, and with them dwell forever in a land without sorrow.

It may be said that we scarcely live in the present. =Memory=, in whose mysterious cells are treasured the records of the past, carries us back to our earlier years, and all our pursuits, and sports, and joys, and griefs, pass rapidly in review before us; and =Hope= leads us onward, investing future years with charms, and bidding us strive with brave and manly hearts in the conflicts and duties that remain.  The former years—­sorrowful remembrance!—­may have been passed in luxury, indolence, or flagrant sin; the fruits of our industry and skill may have wasted away; friends, whose love once cast a golden sunshine on the path of life, may have proved false and treacherous; our fondest desires, perchance, have faded, and sorrows may encompass us about;—­yet above us the voice of Hope crieth aloud, “Press on!”—­through tears and the cross must thou win the crown; be patient, trustful, in every duty and grief; “press on,” and falter not; and its words linger like the music of a remembered dream in our ear, until, at the borders of the grave, we lay down the burden of our sinfulness and care, and, through the open gate of death, pass onward to that world where hope shall be exchanged for sight, and we, with unveiled eye, shall look upon the wondrous ways and works of God.