Though we come before the public to defend the doctrines of Christ, yet, my friends, you will bear in mind that it is also our duty to enforce his precepts, and exhort to the obedience of the gospel.  That we should point out the road of sin, error and misery, and also endeavor to throw the light of heavenly truth on the pathway of human life.

We will begin with the murderer, who wantonly embrues his hands in the blood of his fellow.  So far as he has violated the laws of his country, he is a subject for public execution, and has nothing to hope for, at the tribunal of human justice.  His misery, whether it arise from the contemplation of an ignominious death, from the fear of detection, or from the consciousness of having violated the moral principles of his nature, is alike insupportable, as well as indescribable.

Is he detected?  Shut out from the world and confined in his loathsome cell, he is left to his own reflections, and to all the horrors of the gathering storm.  But even admitting that he should escape detection, and be left to his own meditations on his deed of blood, he would, like Cain, breathe out in agony of soul, “my punishment is greater than I can bear!” He might, indeed, mingle with the busy throng—­he might even smile, and wear a face of pleasure, but behind this mantled mask he would conceal a heart of pain.  He might, indeed, gaze upon the landscape, listen to the songs of the grove, and contemplate the glories of nature, but the charm, that once gave him ecstatic delight and solid joy, is vanished from his sight; and all, that once was fair and lovely, wears the frown of darkness and indignation.  He gazes upon little children, and hears their artless and innocent prattle, reflects what he once was, and every joy, that sparkles in their eyes, sends a dagger to his heart.  The rustling of a leaf strikes him with terror and alarm, and every passing breeze bears to his tormented soul the groans of the dying man, and conscience forces him to listen to the heart-rending tale of wo.  Fain would he fly from himself, and enjoy one hour’s repose; but alas!  That God, who rules in the kingdom of men, has written a law in his heart, where he reads and feels his condemnation, and where conscience sits on the judgment seat, constantly holds him arraigned at her tribunal, and fans up in his bosom the burning flames of hell!  He may lie down on his pillow, but spectres haunt his brain; and awake, asleep, at home, abroad, he finds that he has rendered his own existence a curse.  He lives in misery, and in darkness expires.

Let us next notice the thief, who plunders our property.  His crime is of less magnitude than the above, but his guilt is in proportion.  No one by such means has ever enriched himself.  He, who obtains property by dishonorable means, is ignorant of its value, and will dishonorably spend it.  He has forgotten that God governs the world.  Our state-prisons and penitentiaries not only (so far as human laws are