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           Title: The Upper Room: Being a Few Truths for the Times
      Creator(s): Ryle, John Charles (1816-1900)
          Rights: Public Domain
   CCEL Subjects: All;
      LC Call no: BX5133.R92
   LC Subjects:

   Christian Denominations

   Protestantism

   Post-Reformation

   Anglican Communion

   Church of England

   Sermons. Tracts. Addresses. Essays
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THE UPPER ROOM
Being a Few Truths for the Times

  JOHN CHARLES RYLE

    BISHOP OF LIVERPOOL
    [1880-1900]
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  Preface

   The volume now in the reader's hands requires little introductory
   explanation. It contains a very miscellaneous selection of papers which
   I have sent forth from time to time, in one shape or another, during a
   forty-five years' ministry. Some of these papers are not known beyond a
   small circle of kind friends. Not a few of them are the substance of
   pulpit addresses delivered on important public occasions, and composed
   with more than ordinary pains. All of them, I venture humbly to think,
   will be found to contain some useful truths for the times, and words in
   season.

   I have reached an age when I cannot reasonably expect to write much
   more. There are many thoughts in this volume which I do not wish to
   leave behind me in the precarious form of separate single sermons,
   addresses, lectures, and tracts. I have therefore resolved to gather
   them together in the volume I now send forth, which I heartily pray God
   to bless, and to make it a permanent blessing to many souls.

   Palace, Liverpool

   1 December 1887

   J. C. LIVERPOOL
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   [1]

  CHAPTER I
  Acts 1:13
  "THEY WENT UP INTO AN UPPER ROOM."

   WE are told in these simple words what the Apostles did immediately
   after the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ into heaven. Fresh from
   the wonderful and touching sight of their beloved Master being taken
   away from them,- with the message brought by angels, bidding them
   expect His Second Advent, still ringing in their ears.- they returned
   from Mount Olivet to Jerusalem, and went at once "into an upper room."
   Simple as the words are, they are full of suggestive thoughts, and
   deserve the close attention of all into whose hands this volume may
   fall.

   Let us fix our eyes for a few minutes on the first place of meeting of
   Christians for worship of which we have any record. Let us examine the
   first congregation which assembled after the great Head of the Church
   had left the world, and left His people to themselves. Let us see who
   these first worshippers were, and how they behaved, and what they did.
   I venture to think that a little quiet contemplation of the subject may
   do us good.

   This "upper room," we should remember, was the forerunner of every
   church and cathedral which has been reared in Christendom within the
   last eighteen centuries. St. Paul's, and York, and Lincoln, and all the
   stately ministers of our own land; St. Sophia at Constantinople, St.
   Isaac at St. Petersburg, St. Stephen's at Vienna, Notre Dame at Paris,
   St. Peter's at Rome, all are descendants from this "upper room." Not
   one can trace its pedigree beyond that little chamber. Here it was that
   professing Christians, when left alone by their Master, first began to
   pray together, to worship, and to exhort one another. This room was the
   cradle of the infant Church of Christ, and the beginning of all our
   services. From this room the waters of the everlasting gospel first
   began to flow, which have now spread so widely throughout the world,
   however adulterated and corrupted they may have been in some ages and
   in some parts of the earth. I invite my readers, then, to come with me
   and examine this upper room as it appeared on Ascension day.

   I. There are certain points arising naturally out of the text before us
   which appear to demand special notice. Let us see what they are.

   Concerning the shape and size and form of this room, we know nothing at
   all. It was probably like many other "upper rooms " in Jerusalem. But
   whether it was lofty, or low, or square, or round; whether it stood
   east and west, or north and south; whether it was ornamented or
   decorated or perfectly plain, we have not the slightest information,
   and the matter signifies very little. But it is a striking and
   noteworthy fact that in the original Greek it is called the upper room,
   and not an upper room, as our Authorized Version calls it. I venture to
   think that there is much in this. I believe there is the highest
   probability that this was the very room in which our Lord first
   appointed the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, and in which the Apostles
   first heard those well-known words, "Take, eat; this is My body,"--"
   Drink ye all of this, for this is My blood,"--those famous words which
   have been the cause of so much unhappy controversy with some, but the
   source of such mighty comfort to others.--I believe it was the same
   room in which the disciples were "in the habit of abiding" during the
   fifty days between the Resurrection and Pentecost. Here, again, the
   original Greek helps us to a conclusion, if literally translated. I
   believe it is the same room in which the disciples were assembled with
   "the doors shut for fear of the Jews," when the Lord Jesus suddenly
   appeared in the midst of them after His resurrection, and said, "Peace
   be unto you: as My Father sent Me, so send I you;" and "breathed on
   them, saying, Receive ye the Holy Ghost" (John 20:21-22).--I believe it
   is the same room in which, a week afterwards, He appeared again, and
   rebuked the scepticism of doubting Thomas, saying, " Be not faithless,
   but believing."--I believe it is the same room in which our Lord
   appeared, and did eat before His disciples, and said, "Handle Me, and
   see: a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see Me have" (Luke
   24:39). On all these points I freely grant that I have nothing but
   conjectures to put before my readers. But they are conjectures which
   appear to me to be founded on the highest possible probability, and as
   such I think they demand our reverent consideration. But we may now
   turn boldly from conjectures, and look at things which are most plainly
   and unmistakably revealed.

   (1) Let us then, first and foremost, look at the worshippers who were
   gathered together in this first place of Christian worship.

   Peter was there, that warm-hearted, impulsive, but unstable Apostle,
   who, forty days before, denied his Master three times, and then
   repented with bitter tears, and who had been graciously raised by our
   Lord, and commanded to "feed His sheep" (John 21:16-17).

   James was there, who had been the favoured companion of Peter and John
   on three important occasions, and who was the first of the Apostles to
   seal his faith with his blood, and drink of the cup which his Master
   drank (Matt. 20:23).

   John was there, the other son of Zebedee, the beloved Apostle, whose
   head lay on our Lord's breast at the Last Supper,---John, the first on
   the lake of Galilee, when our Lord appeared to the disciples as they
   were fishing, who cried out with instinctive love, "It is the
   Lord,"--John, who at one time wished to call down fire from heaven on a
   village of the Samaritans, but lived to write three Epistles brimming
   over with love (John 21:7; Luke 9:54).

   Andrew was there, the first of all the Apostles whose name we know, who
   followed Jesus after hearing the words, "Behold the Lamb of God," and
   then brought his brother Peter to Jesus, saying, "We have found the
   Messias" (John 1:40-41).

   Philip of Bethsaida was there, the first Apostle to whom Jesus said,
   "Follow Me,"--the Apostle who told Nathanael to "come and see" the
   promised Messiah (John 1:43).

   Thomas was there, who was once so desponding and weak in faith, but
   afterwards cried out with such grand Athanasian confidence, " My Lord
   and my God" (John 20:28).

   Bartholomew was there, who, by general consent, is the same as that
   very Nathanael who at first said, "Can any good thing come out of
   Nazareth?" Yet this is he whom our Lord pronounced to be "an Israelite
   without guile," and who said, "Thou art the Son of God, Thou art the
   King of Israel" (John 1:46-49).

   Matthew the publican was there, who forsook his worldly calling at the
   bidding of our Lord, and sought lasting treasure in heaven, and who was
   afterwards privileged to hold the pen which wrote the first Gospel
   (Matt. 9:9).

   James the son of Alphaeus was there, who had the honour of being the
   presiding Apostle at the first Council held in Jerusalem, and of whom
   St. Paul tells the Galatians that, together with Peter and John, James
   was a "pillar of the Church" (Gal. 2:9).

   Simon Zelotes was there, of whom we know little certain except that he
   was also "called the Canaanite," and may possibly have lived at Cana of
   Galilee, and seen the first miracle our Lord worked. His name Zelotes
   seems to indicate that he was once a member of the famous Zealot party,
   a fierce advocate of Jewish home-rule, and an enemy of Roman supremacy.
   He was now zealous only for the kingdom of Christ.

   Judas was there, the brother of James, called also Lebbaeus or
   Thaddaeus, the writer of the last Epistle in the New Testament, and the
   Apostle who asked the remarkable question," How is it that Thou wilt
   manifest Thyself unto us and not unto the world?" (John 14:22). In
   short, the whole company of the eleven faithful Apostles was assembled
   in that " upper room." On this occasion there were no absentees; and
   doubting Thomas was among the rest.

   But there were others present beside the Apostles. The "women" were
   there of whom some had long followed our Lord and ministered to His
   necessities, and been last at the Cross, and first at the tomb. I have
   little doubt that Mary Magdalene and Salome, and Susanna, and Joanna
   the wife of Chuza, Herod's steward, formed part of the company (Luke
   8:2-3). And Mary the mother of Jesus was there, whom our Lord had
   committed to the special care of John; and where he was, she was sure
   to be. Truly the prophecy of old Simeon had been fulfilled in her case.
   "The sword" of deep and keen sorrow had pierced "through her soul"
   (Luke 2:35). For she was only flesh and blood, like any other woman.
   This is the last occasion on which her name appears in the pages of
   Holy Scripture. From henceforth she sinks out of sight, and all stories
   about her after-life are mere baseless traditions.

   And, finally, our Lord's "brethren" were there. They were his cousins
   in all probability, or the sons of Joseph by a former marriage. Never
   let it be forgotten that at one time they did not believe on Jesus
   (John 7:5); but now their unbelief was gone, and they were true
   disciples, while Judas Iscariot had fallen away. The mention of them
   teaches the grand lesson that men may begin ill, and end well, and that
   many who now seem faithless may one day believe. So true it is that the
   last are sometimes first, and the first last.

   Such was the congregation which assembled in the "upper room" after the
   Ascension. Never, I suppose, has there been such a pure and spotless
   gathering of Christians from that day down to this. Never has there
   been, and probably never will be, such a near approach to the " one
   Holy Catholic Church," the "mystical body of the Son of God, which is
   the blessed company of all faithful people." Never has there been
   together so much wheat without tares, and such a singular proportion of
   grace, and penitence, and faith, and hope, and holiness, and love in
   one room together. Well would it be for the visible Church of Christ if
   all her assemblies were as free from unsound members, spots, and
   blemishes as the congregation which met together in the "upper room."

   (2) We should notice, secondly, the unity which characterized this
   first meeting in the "upper room." We are told expressly, "that they
   were all there with one accord," that is, of one mind. There were no
   divisions among them. They believed the same thing. They loved the same
   Person, and at present there was no disagreement among them. There was
   nothing of High, or Low, or Broad in that "upper room." Heresies, and
   strifes, and controversies were as yet unknown. Neither about baptism,
   or the Lord's Supper, or vestments, or incense, was there any
   contention or agitation. Happy would it have been for Christendom if
   this blessed state of things had continued! At the end of eighteen
   centuries we all know, by bitter experience, that the divisions of
   Christians are the weakness of the Church, and the favourite argument
   of the world, the infidel, and the devil against revealed religion.
   Well may we pray, when we see this blessed picture of the upper room,
   that God would heal the many ecclesiastical diseases of the nineteenth
   century, and make Churchmen especially become more of one mind.

   (3) We should notice, thirdly, the devotional habits of this first
   congregation in the "upper room." We are told expressly that they "were
   continuing in prayer and supplication." Here, again, we should mark the
   original Greek. The expression denotes that prayer was a continued and
   habitual practice at this crisis. What things these holy worshippers
   prayed for we are not told. Like our Lord's discourse with the two
   Apostles journeying to Emmaus, one would like to know what their
   prayers were (Luke 24:27). We need not doubt that there was much prayer
   for grace to be faithful and not fall away, refer wisdom to do the
   thing that was fight in the new and difficult position which they had
   to take up,--for courage, for patience, for unwearied zeal, for abiding
   recollection of our Lord's example, our Lord's teaching, and our Lord's
   promises. But in perfect wisdom the Holy Ghost has thought fit to keep
   back these things from us, and we must not doubt that this is right.
   One thing, at any rate, is quite certain. We are taught clearly that
   nothing is such a primary duty of a Christian assembly as united prayer
   and supplication. Let us never forget the first charge which the meat
   Apostle of the Gentiles gave to Timothy when he wrote to him about his
   duties as a minister of the Church, "I exhort, therefore, first of all,
   that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks be
   made for all men; for kings and all that are in authority, that we may
   live a quiet end peaceable life" (1 Tim. 2:1, etc.). I dare to believe
   that the names of Annas, Caiaphas, and Pontius Pilate were not
   forgotten in the supplications and intercessions of the "upper room."

   (4) We should notice, lastly, the address given in this upper room by
   the Apostle Peter, on one of the ten days which elapsed between the
   Ascension and the day of Pentecost. It is an interesting fact that this
   is the first address which is recorded to have been given to any
   assembly of Christians after the Lord left the world. It is no less
   interesting that the first speaker was the Apostle Peter,--the very
   Apostle who, after denying his Master, had been mercifully raised
   again, and commended to prove his love by feeding His sheep,--the very
   Apostle who had received a charge before his fall, "When thou art
   converted, strengthen thy brethren" (Luke 22:32). There was a peculiar
   fitness in Peter being the first to stand up and address the little
   company of "one hundred and twenty names."

   (a) Mark how he begins his address with a reverent reference to Holy
   Scripture. He puts down his foot firmly on the supremacy of God's
   written Word as the Church's rule of faith. He says, "This scripture
   must needs have been fulfilled." He says, "It is written in the book of
   Psalms," and takes a quotation for his text. Well and wisely does the
   late Dean Alford remark in his Homilies on the Acts: "The first act of
   the Church by her first superintendent minister was an appeal to the
   text of Scripture. Let that never be forgotten. Would that every appeal
   by every one of her ministers since had been an appeal equally direct
   and equally justified!"

   (b) Mark, next, how Peter humbly acknowledges the liability of the
   highest and most privileged ministers of the Church to fall. He says of
   Judas Iscariot, "He was numbered with us, and had obtained part of this
   ministry," and then mentions his miserable end. "He fell by
   transgression," and then "went to his own place." Let that also never
   be forgotten. He lays down the grand principle, which should always be
   remembered in the Church, that no infallibility belongs to the
   ministerial office. A chosen Apostle of Christ fell sadly, and so also
   may any successor of the Apostles. Bishops, priests, and deacons may
   err, and have erred greatly, like Hophni, and Phinehas, and Annas, and
   Caiaphas, who were in direct succession to Aaron. We are never to
   suppose that ordained and consecrated men can make no mistakes. We are
   never to follow them blindly, or to believe as a matter of course that
   all they say is truth. The Bible is the only infallible guide.

   (c) Mark, next, how he calls upon the Church to fill up the place which
   Judas had left vacant, and to choose one who might be numbered with the
   eleven Apostles. He speaks with unfaltering confidence, like one
   convinced that a work was beginning which the world and the devil could
   never stop, and that workmen must be appointed to carry it on in
   regular order. He speaks with a clear foresight of the battles the
   Church would have to fight, but with an evident conviction that they
   would not be fought in vain, and that the final issue was sure. He
   seems to say, "Stand firm, though a standard-bearer has fallen away.
   Fill up the gap. Close up your ranks."

   (d) Mark, lastly, how he winds up his address with a plain declaration
   of what a minister and successor of the Apostles ought to be. He was to
   be "a witness of Christ's resurrection." He was to be a witness to the
   fact that the foundation of the Gospel is not a vague idea of God's
   mercy, but an actual living Person, a Person who lived for us, died for
   us, and above all, rose again. Let that also never be forgotten. I
   affirm, without hesitation, that in these latter days we do not make
   enough of the resurrection of Christ. We certainly do not make as much
   of it as the Apostles did, judging from the Acts and the Epistles. When
   Paul went to Athens, we are told that "he preached Jesus and the
   resurrection" (Acts 27:18). When he went to Corinth, one of the first
   truths he proclaimed was, that " Christ rose again according to the
   Scriptures" (1 Cor. 15:4). When the same Paul was brought before Festus
   and Agrippa, Festus said that the complaint against him was about "one
   Jesus who was dead, whom Paul affirmed to be alive" (Acts 25:19).

   Let no one misunderstand my meaning. I do not say that we dwell too
   much on the sacrifice and the blood of Christ, but I do contend that we
   dwell too little on His resurrection. Yet our Lord Himself told the
   Jews more than once that the resurrection would prove Him to be the
   Messiah. St. Paul told the Romans, in the beginning of his Epistle,
   that Jesus was "declared to be the Son of God with power by the
   resurrection from the dead" (Rom. 1:4). The resurrection completed the
   work of redemption, which our Lord came into the world to effect. It is
   written, that "He was delivered for our offences, and raised again for
   our justification," and the Corinthians are expressly told, "If Christ
   be not raised, your faith is vain; ye are yet in your sins" (Rom. 4:25;
   1 Cor. 15:17). In short, Christ's resurrection is one of the grandest
   evidences of the truth of Christianity, a foundation proof that the
   salvation of sinners by the vicarious atonement is a finished work, and
   a miracle which the cleverest infidels have never been able to explain
   away. Until it is explained away, we need not be troubled by carping
   remarks about Balaam's ass speaking, and Jonah in the whale's belly.
   Well indeed would it have been for the Church if all her ministers had
   always been such as Peter recommended to be appointed, faithful
   "witnesses to a personal Christ, His death, and His resurrection.

   So much for the upper room at Jerusalem, its congregation, their unity,
   their prayers, and the first address delivered within its walls. So
   much for the first prayer meeting, the first sermon, and the first
   corporate action of the professing Church of which we have any record.
   We need not doubt for a moment that the well-known promise of our Lord
   Jesus Christ was fulfilled in that room, "Wheresoever two or three are
   gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them" (Matt.
   18:20). The little company of worshippers did not see Him; but He was
   there.

   II. Let me now try to draw some practical lessons for ourselves from
   the whole subject.

   (1) In the first place, let us learn to be more thankful for the
   liberty of the days in which our lot is cast, and the wise toleration
   of the Government under which we live in this country. By the mercy of
   God, "we enjoy great quietness." We have no need to meet in "upper
   rooms" with "doors closed for fear of the Jews," and with a constant
   feeling that there is but a step between us and a violent death. Men
   may build places of worship now, if they please, as costly and
   magnificent as the temple of Jerusalem itself, and no one jealously
   prohibits or interferes with them. We need not fear Roman Emperors, nor
   mediaeval autocrats, nor Spanish Inquisitions. The land is before us,
   and men may build and worship as they please. I would to God that all
   wealthy laymen in this country would remember from whom riches come,
   and to whom they are indebted for their freedom and prosperity. I would
   to God that many more would honour Him with their substance, and come
   forward more frequently, saying, "Let me build a Church for the service
   of God."

   (2) In the next place, let us learn the source of trite power in the
   Church. This little upper room was the starting-point of a movement
   which shook the Roman Empire, emptied the heathen temples, stopped
   gladiatorial combats, raised women to their true position, checked
   infanticide, created a new standard of morality, confounded the old
   Greek and Roman philosophers, and turned the world upside down. And
   what was the secret of this power? The unity, the soundness in the
   faith, the holiness, and the prayers and intercessions of the first
   professing Christians. Where these things are wanting, the grandest
   architecture and the most ornate ceremonial will do nothing to mend the
   world. It is the presence of Christ and the Holy Ghost which alone
   gives power.

   (3) In the last place, let us pray for the Church of England, that she
   may continue faithful to the old truths which have done so much good
   for 300 years, truths which are embalmed in our Articles, Prayer Book,
   and Creeds. It is cheap and easy work to sneer at dogma, to scoff at
   inspiration and the atonement, to make merry at the controversies of
   Christians, and to tell us that no one really believes all the Bible,
   or all the facts enumerated in the Belief. It is easy, I repeat, to do
   this. Even children can cast mud, and throw stones, and make a noise.
   But sneers, and mud, and noise are not arguments. I challenge those who
   sneer at dogma to show us a more excellent way, to show us anything
   that does more good in the world than the old, old story of Christ
   dying for our sins, and rising again for our justification.

   The man of science may say, "Come with me, and look through my
   microscope or telescope, and I will show you thins which Moses, David,
   and St. Paul never dreamed of. Do you expect me to believe what was
   written by ignorant fellows like them?" But can this man of science
   show us anything through his microscope or telescope which will
   minister to a mind diseased, bind up the wounds of a broken heart,
   satisfy the wants of an aching conscience, supply comfort to the
   mourner over a lost husband, wife, or child? No, indeed! he can do
   nothing of the kind! Men and women are fearfully and wonderfully made.
   We are not made up merely of brains, and head, and intellect, and
   reason. We are frail, dying creatures, who have got hearts, and
   feelings, and consciences; and we live in a world of sorrow, and
   disappointment, and sickness, and death. And what can help us in a
   world like this? Certainly not science alone. Nothing can help us but
   the doctrine of that volume which some people call an old worn-out
   Jewish book, the Bible. None can help us but He who was laid in the
   manger of Bethlehem and died on the cross to pay our debt to God, and
   is now at God's right hand. None but He who said," Come unto Me, all ye
   that labour, and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11:28). None but He who
   has thrown light on the grave, and the world beyond it, and has brought
   life and immortality to light through the gospel and made a deeper mark
   on the world than all the men of science who have ever lived, from the
   times of Pythagoras, Aristotle, and Archimedes, down to Darwin and
   Huxley in the present day. Yes! I say again, let us pray that our
   Church may ever be faithful to her first principles, and never lend an
   ear to those plausible, eloquent apostles of free thought, who would
   fain persuade her to throw overboard her Creeds and Articles as useless
   lumber. Fine words and rhetorical fireworks will never satisfy
   humanity, check moral evil, or feed souls. Men would do well to read
   that striking paper which Miss Frances Power Cobbe wrote in the
   Contemporary Review for December 1884, and see what a ghastly world our
   world would be if it was a world without a faith or a creed. The age
   needs nothing new. It only needs the bold and steady proclamation of
   the old truths which were held in the " upper room" at Jerusalem.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1] The substance of this paper was originally delivered as a sermon at
   the consecration of St. Agnes' Church, Liverpool.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER II
  Colossians 4:14
  "LUKE, THE BELOVED PHYSICIAN."

   [2]

   THERE are two things in the title of this paper which I shall take for
   granted, and not dwell on them. One is, that Luke here mentioned is the
   same Luke who wrote the third Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, and
   was the friend and companion of St. Paul. The other is, that Luke
   really was a physician of the body. On both these points the consent of
   learned men, who have a right to command our attention, is almost
   universal. I shall rigidly confine myself to two remarks which appear
   to grow out of the subject. For it is a significant fact, I think, that
   the great Apostle of the Gentiles, who was ever ministering to men's
   souls, makes honourable mention of one who ministered to men's bodies.

   I. I remark then, for one thing, that one great feature of the
   Christian religion is the dignity and importance which it attaches to
   the human body.

   Many readers of this paper need hardly be reminded that some of the
   schools of heathen philosophers regarded the body with contempt, as a
   hindrance and not a help, a clog and a drag and not an aid, to the
   soul. Even those nations which paid most attention to the burial of the
   body when dead, like the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, knew nothing of
   a future existence of the body after death, even at the most distant
   period. The heroes described by Homer and Viral, in the Elysian Fields,
   the supposed place of happiness after death, were only ghosts and airy
   figures, with nothing material about them. When St. Paul, on Mars Hill,
   spoke of the "resurrection of the dead," we are told that "some mocked"
   (Acts 17:32). Even Pliny, one of the most intelligent Latin writers, in
   his Natural History, says there were two things which were beyond the
   power of God,--one was to give immortality to mortals, and the other
   was to give bodily life again to the dead. (See Pearson on The Creed,
   vol. ii., p. 306, Oxford edition.)

   Let us turn now to the Christian religion, and mark what a contrast it
   presents. Whether we look at its leading facts, or doctrines, or
   practical instructions for the present, or hopes for the future, the
   human body is continually brought to the front, and its importance
   magnified.

   (a) Look, to begin with, at the great mysterious truth which lies at
   the foundation of our holy faith, the incarnation of Christ. When the
   Eternal Son of God came down into this sin-burdened world, to bring
   redemption, and change the whole condition of our fallen race, how did
   He come? Not as a mighty angel or a glorious spirit, as we might have
   expected. Nothing of the kind! He took on Him a bodily nature, just
   like our own, sin only excepted. He was born of a woman as an infant,
   and had a body that grew and increased in stature as our bodies do,--a
   body that could hunger and thirst, and be weary and need sleep, and
   feel pain, and groan in agony and suffering, like the body of any one
   who reads this paper. In that body He condescended to tabernacle for
   thirty-three years, its members daily fulfilling the Law of God
   perfectly, so that in His "flesh" Satan could find nothing failing or
   defective (John 14:30).

   (b) Look, in the next place, at the great cardinal doctrine of Christ's
   atonement. That wondrous distinctive verity of our faith, that solution
   of the problem, "how can sinful man have peace with God? "--is
   indissolubly bound up with Christ's body. It was the death of that body
   on the cross which provided for fallen man a way of reconciliation with
   God. It was the precious lifeblood, which flowed from our Lord's
   crucified body on Calvary, which purchased for us redemption from the
   curse of a broken law. In short, it is the blood of Christ's body to
   which true Christians owe all their comfort while they live, and their
   hope when they die.

   (c) Look, next, at the crowning facts of Christ's resurrection and
   ascension into heaven. When our Lord came forth from the gave where
   Joseph and Nicodemus had laid Him, on the third day, He did not come
   forth as a spirit. To use the words of our Fourth Article, He "took
   again His body, with flesh, bones, and all things appertaining to the
   perfection of man's nature." In that body He was seen and touched by
   His disciples. In that body He spoke, and ate, and drank like
   ourselves. And, finally, in that body He ascended into heaven, and
   there sits till He returns to judge all men at the last day. We have a
   priest and advocate with the Father who has a body.

   (d) Look, next, at the practical precepts and exhortations which the
   Apostles are continually pressing on us in the New Testament. Mark how
   frequently they speak of the body and its members as "instruments of
   righteousness," as a part of the Christian's nature requiring his
   constant care, and as a means of exhibiting his sanctification and
   holiness. "Your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost."--" Glorify God
   in body and spirit, which are His."--" I pray God your whole spirit,
   and soul, and body, may be preserved blameless."----" Present your
   bodies a living sacrifice."--Let "Christ be magnified in my body."--Let
   the "life of Jesus be manifest in our mortal flesh."--We shall "receive
   the things done in the body."--Where, indeed, and how, could the graces
   of temperance, soberness, chastity, and self-denial be shown forth
   except in and through the body? (Rom. 6:13; 1 Cor. 6:19-20; 1 Thess.
   5:23; Rom. 12:1; Phil. 1:20; 2 Cor. 4:11; 2 Cor. 5:10).

   (e) Look, finally, at that grand distinctive hope which sustains the
   Christian amidst the deaths, and funerals, and pains, and partings, and
   sufferings of this world. That hope is the resurrection of the flesh
   after death. Our bodies shall live again. The grave cannot hold them.
   We part from those who fall asleep in Jesus in the blessed confidence
   that we shall meet and see them again, better, stronger, more beautiful
   than they ever were upon earth. For ever let us thank God that the
   glorious gospel which we profess to believe makes provision for our
   bodies as well as our souls.

   But, after all, the importance which Christianity attaches to the body
   is not one whir greater than that which is continually attached to it
   by the children of this world. It is easy to sneer at the simple facts
   and doctrines of Christianity, and to talk great swelling words about"
   mind," and "thought," and "intellect," and "reason." But there is no
   getting over the broad fact that it is the body and not the mind, and
   the wants of the body, by which the world is governed.

   Statesmen and politicians know this full well, and often to their cost.
   Their tenure of office depends in great measure on the contentment of
   the people. And who does not know that nothing creates popular
   discontent so much as high prices of corn, and general dearness of food
   for the body?

   Merchants and ship-owners, of all men in the world, ought to know the
   importance of the body. Corn, and meat, and sugar, and tea, to feed the
   body,--cotton and wool to clothe the body,--what are these but the very
   articles which create the main portion of the commerce, and carrying
   trade, and business of a nation?

   It would be waste of time to multiply arguments on this subject. In the
   face of such facts as these, it is the highest wisdom, both in the
   Church and the State, never to forget the importance of the body. To
   promote cleanliness, and temperance, and social purity,--to aim at the
   highest standard of sanitary arrangements, into encourage every
   movement which can increase the health and longevity of a people,--to
   provide as far as possible good air, good water, good dwellings, and
   cheap food for every man, woman, and child in the land,--these are
   objects which deserve the best attention both of the Christian and the
   man of the world.

   There is a mine of deep truth in the saying, "Sanitas sanitatum: omnia
   sanitas." Whatever students and bookworms and philosophers may please
   to say, there is an indissoluble connection between the bodies and
   minds and souls of mankind. You cannot separate them. Not one of the
   three can be safely neglected. The Church, which only cares for saving
   souls, and the State, which only cares for educating minds, are both
   making a vast mistake. Happy is that country where body, soul, and mind
   are all eared for, and a continual effort made to provide for the
   health of all three.

   II. The other remark which I wish to make is this: Observe the honour
   which our Lord Jesus Christ has put on the medical profession.

   It is a noteworthy fact, to begin with, that one of the four men whom
   our Lord chose to write the Gospels was a "physician." Not only does
   ecclesiastical history, with almost entire harmony, tell us this, but
   there is strong internal evidence in St. Luke's writings to confirm it.
   An ingenious writer has lately published a book which proves that many
   Greek phrases and expressions used in the third Gospel and the Acts are
   thoroughly medical, and such as a physician of that age would use in
   describing the symptoms of disease, or of returning health. In short,
   there is little room for doubt that out of the twenty-seven books which
   make up the little volume of the New Testament, two of the longest come
   from the pen of a medical man.

   But, after all, there is another fact of even deeper significance which
   demands attention. I refer to the very large number of the cases of
   sickness and disease which our Lord Jesus Christ was pleased to heal
   during the period of His earthly ministry. No doubt, if He had thought
   fit, He could have shown His Divine power, and proved His Divine
   mission, by miracles like the plagues of Egypt, by calling fire from
   heaven like Elijah, by causing the earth to open and swallow up His
   enemies, as Dathan and Abiram were swallowed up in the wilderness. But
   He did not do so. The great majority of His wondrous works were works
   of mercy wrought on the suffering bodies of men and women. To cure the
   leprous, the dropsical, the palsied, the fevered, the lame, the blind,
   was the continual labour of love of Him who was "God manifest in the
   flesh." To use the deep and mysterious words quoted from Isaiah by St.
   Matthew, " Himself took our infirmities, and bare our sicknesses"
   (Matt. 8:17).

   Now why was this? Why did our Lord adopt this line of action, and
   habitually condescend to devote time and attention to the humbling and
   often loathsome ills to which flesh is heir? Partly, I believe, to
   remind us that He came to remedy the fall of man; and that of all the
   consequences of the fall, none cause so much trouble, and affect all
   ranks and classes of society so thoroughly, as sickness. But partly
   also, I believe, to teach Christians in every age, that to minister to
   the sick is eminently a work of mercy according to Christ's mind. He
   that endeavours to check disease, to alleviate suffering, to lessen
   pain, to help the self-curative powers of nature, and to lengthen life,
   may surely take comfort in the thought, that, however much he may fail,
   he is at any rate walking in the footsteps of Jesus of Nazareth. Next
   to the office of him who ministers to men's souls, there is none really
   more useful and honourable than that of him who ministers to the soul's
   frail tabernacle --the body.

   He that thinks of these things will not wonder that the rise and
   progress of Christianity in every age has done much for the office of
   the physician. That nothing was known of medicine or surgery before the
   Christian era, it would be unfair to say. The names of Podalirius and
   Machaon in Homer, the better-known, less mythical name of Hippocrates
   (no mean observer of symptoms), are familiar to students. But it is a
   certain fact that the sick were never so systematically cared for, and
   the medical profession so honourably esteemed, as they have been since
   the Church of Christ leavened the world. The builders of the Parthenon
   and Colosseum built no infirmaries. You will find no ruins of hospitals
   at Athens or Rome. The infidel, the sceptic, and the agnostic may sneer
   at Bible religion if they please, but they cannot get over the fact
   that medical and surgical knowledge have always advanced side by side
   with the gospel of Christ. Clever and ingenious as the heathen
   inhabitants of India, China, and Japan are at this day, it is notorious
   that their acquaintance with anatomy and materia medica, and their
   treatment of bodily diseases, are beneath contempt.

   Few of us, perhaps, realize what an immense debt we owe in Christian
   England to the medical profession. How much the comfort of our lives
   depends on it, and how vastly different is the condition of those whose
   lot is cast in a heathen country, or an "uncivilized back settlement of
   a colony! He that has a good servant in his house, and a good doctor
   within reach, ought to be a thankful man.

   Fewer still, I believe, realize what enormous strides medicine and
   surgery have made in the last two centuries, and are continually making
   in the present. Of course death still reigns, and will reign until
   Christ returns in glory. Kings and their subjects, rich and poor, all
   alike die, and will die until death is swallowed up in victory. And no
   marvel! The human body is a frail and delicate machine. "Strange that a
   harp of a thousand strings should keep in tune so long." But that the
   duration of life in this age is greatly increased by the advance of
   medical science, and that many diseases are preventable, manageable, or
   curable, which were once always thought fatal, are facts entirely
   beyond dispute. Let any one read Baxter's semi-medical sermon in the
   Morning .Exercises, and observe his receipts for hypochondria and
   dyspepsia, and then say whether he ought not to be thankful that he
   lives in the nineteenth century. The mere fact that our ancestors knew
   nothing of quinine, chloroform, vaccination, the carbolic spray, the
   stethoscope, the laryngoscope, the ophthalmoscope, or the right
   treatment of the lunatic, the idiot, the deaf and dumb, and the blind,
   is a fact that speaks volumes to any intelligent mind.

   None, perhaps, have such constant opportunities of seeing the value of
   a medical man's services as Christian ministers. We meet them in
   sick-rooms, and by the side of death-beds, and we know the self-denying
   labour which their profession entails, and the ungrudging and often
   unpaid attention which the sick almost invariably receive at their
   hands.

   There ought always to be the utmost harmony and friendly feeling
   between the two professions. The sick-room is the common ground on
   which they meet. On that ground they can greatly help one another. I
   think the minister of religion can help the medical man by teaching his
   patients the paramount importance of obedience to orders, of submission
   to advice, of attention to rules about diet and sanitary matters, and
   by encouraging patience and quietness of spirit. I am sure the doctor
   can help the minister by gently and wisely reminding those whose cases
   are past recovery, that it is their duty to accept the inevitable, that
   this life is not all, that they have souls as well as bodies, and that
   it is wise to look calmly at their latter end, and a world to come, and
   to prepare to meet God.

   There is much in common in the two professions, the one in caring for
   men's bodies, and the other in caring for men's souls. We ministers
   cannot command success. Too often we visit in vain, exhort in vain,
   advise in vain, preach in vain. We find that spiritual life and death
   are in higher hands than ours. The doctor finds that under the most
   skilful treatment people will die, and we find that under the most
   faithful teaching many continue unmoved in conscience, and dead in
   sins. Like the doctor, we often feel our ignorance, cannot diagnose or
   discern symptoms, and feel doubtful what to say. Both ministers and
   medical men have great need to be clothed with humility. But I trust,
   to use the words which were placed on the tomb of Sir Henry Lawrence,
   we both "try to do our duty," and persevere. Duties are ours, but
   events are God's.

   That there never may be wanting in Great Britain a continual supply of
   able, right-minded, faithful medical men, and that we who minister to
   the soul, and those who minister to the body, may always work
   harmoniously together, and help one another, is my earnest prayer.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [2] The substance of this paper was originally delivered as a sermon in
   Liverpool Cathedral at the opening of the Annual Conference of the
   British Medical Association in Liverpool, on July 31st, 1883.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER III
  Eccles. 12:12.
  SIMPLICITY IN PREACHING.

   [3]

   KING SOLOMON says, in the book of Ecclesiastes, "Of making many books
   there is no end" (Eccles. 12:12). There are few subjects about which
   that saying is more true than that of preaching. The volumes which have
   been written in order to show ministers how to preach are enough to
   make a small library. In sending forth one more little treatise, I only
   propose to touch one branch of the subject. I do not pretend to
   consider what should be the substance and matter of a sermon. I
   purposely leave alone such points as "gravity, unction, liveliness,
   warmth," and the like, or the comparative merits of written or
   extempore sermons. I wish to confine myself to one point, which
   receives far less attention than it deserves. That point is simplicity
   in language and style.

   I ought to be able to tell my readers something about "simplicity," if
   experience will give any help. I began preaching forty-five years ago,
   when I first took orders in a poor rural parish, and a great portion of
   my ministerial life has been spent in preaching to labourers and
   farmers. I know the enormous difficulty of preaching to such hearers,
   of making them understand one's meaning, and securing their attention.
   So far as concerns language and composition, I deliberately say that I
   would rather preach before the University at Oxford or Cambridge, or
   the Temple, or Lincoln's Inn, or the Houses of Parliament, than I would
   address an agricultural congregation on a fine hot afternoon in the
   month of August. I have heard of a labourer who enjoyed Sunday more
   than any other day in the week,-"Because," he said, "I sit comfortably
   in church, put up my legs, have nothing to think about, and just go to
   sleep." Some of my younger friends in the ministry may some day be
   called to preach to such congregations as I have had, and I shall be
   glad if they can profit by my experience.

   Before entering on the subject, I wish to clear the way by making four
   prefatory remarks.

   (a) For one thing, I ask all my readers to remember that to attain
   simplicity in preaching is of the utmost importance to every minister
   who wishes to be useful to souls. Unless you are simple in your sermons
   you will never be understood, and unless you are understood you cannot
   do good to those who hear you. It was a true saying of Quintilian, "If
   you do not wish to be understood, you deserve to be neglected." Of
   course the first object of a minister should be to preach the truth,
   the whole truth, and nothing but "the truth as it is in Jesus." But the
   next thing he ought to aim at is, that his sermon may be understood;
   and it will not be understood by most of his hearers if it is not
   simple.

   (b) The next thing I will say, by way of prefatory remark, is, that to
   attain simplicity in preaching is by no means an easy matter. No
   greater mistake can be made than to suppose this. "To make hard things
   seem hard," to use the substance of a saying of Archbishop Usher's, "is
   within the reach of all, but to make hard things seem easy and
   intelligible is a height attained by very few speakers." One of the
   wisest and best of the Puritans said two hundred years ago, "that the
   greater part of preachers shoot over the heads of the people." This is
   true also in 1837! I fear a vast proportion of what we preach is not
   understood by our hearers any more than if it were Greek. When people
   hear a simple sermon, or read a simple tract, they are apt to say, "How
   true! how plain! how easy to understand!" and to suppose that any one
   can write in that style. Allow me to tell my readers that it is an
   extremely difficult thing to write simple, clear, perspicuous, and
   forcible English. Look at the sermons of Charles Bradley, of Clapham. A
   sermon of his reads most beautifully. It is so simple and natural, that
   any one feels at once that the meaning is as clear as the sun at
   noonday. Every word is the right word, and every word is in its right
   place. Yet the labour those sermons cost Mr. Bradley was very great
   indeed. Those who have read Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield attentively,
   can hardly fail to have noticed the exquisite naturalness, ease, and
   simplicity of its language. And yet it is known that the pains and
   trouble and time bestowed upon that work were immense. Let the Vicar of
   Wakefield be compared with Johnson's Rasselas, which was written off in
   a few days, it is said, under higher pressure, hand the difference is
   at once apparent. In fact, to use very long words, to seem very
   learned, to make people go away after a sermon saying, "How fine! how
   clever! how grand!" all this is very easy work. But to write what will
   strike and stick, to speak or to write that which at once pleases and
   is understood, and becomes assimilated with a heater's mind and a thing
   never forgotten--that, we may depend upon it, is a very difficult thing
   and a very rare attainment.

   (c) Let me observe, in the next place, that when I talk of simplicity
   in preaching, I would not have my readers suppose I mean childish
   preaching. If we suppose the poor like that sort of sermon, we are
   greatly mistaken. If our hearers once imagine we consider them a parcel
   of ignorant folks for whom any kind of "infant's food" is good enough,
   our chance of doing good is lost altogether. People do not like even
   the appearance of condescending preaching. They feel we are not
   treating them as equals, but inferiors. Human nature always dislikes
   that. They will at once put up their backs, stop their ears, and take
   offence, and then we might as well preach to the winds.

   (d) Finally, let me observe, that it is not coarse or vulgar preaching
   that is needed. It is quite possible to be simple, and yet to speak
   like a gentleman, and with the demeanour of a courteous and refined
   person. It is an utter mistake to imagine that uneducated and
   illiterate men and women prefer to be spoken to in an illiterate way,
   and by an uneducated person. To suppose that a lay-evangelist or
   Scripture-reader, who knows nothing of Latin or Greek, and is only
   familiar with his Bible, is more acceptable than an Oxford first-class
   man, or a Cambridge wrangler (if that first-class man knows how to
   preach), is a complete error. People only tolerate vulgarity and
   coarseness, as a rule, when they can get nothing else.

   Having made these prefatory remarks in order to clear the way, I will
   now proceed to give my readers five brief hints as to what seems to me
   the best method of attaining simplicity in preaching.

   I. My first hint is this: If you want to attain simplicity in
   preaching, take care that you have a clear view of the subject upon
   which you are going to preach. I ask your special attention to this. Of
   all the five hints I am about to give, this is the most important.
   Mind, then, when your text is chosen, that you understand it and see
   right through it; that you know precisely what you want to prove, what
   you want to teach, what you want to establish, and what you want
   people's minds to carry away. If you yourself begin in a fog, you may
   depend upon it you will leave your people in darkness. Cicero, one of
   the greatest ancient orators, said long ago, "No one can possibly speak
   clearly and eloquently about a subject which he does not
   understand,"---and I am satisfied that he spoke the truth. Archbishop
   Whately was a very shrewd observer of human nature, and he said rightly
   of a vast number of preachers, that "they aimed at nothing, and they
   hit nothing. Like men landing on an unknown island, and setting out on
   a journey of exploration, they set out in ignorance, and travelled on
   in ignorance all the day long."

   I ask all young ministers especially, to remember this first hint. I
   repeat most emphatically, "Take care you thoroughly understand your
   subject. Never choose a text of which you do not quite know what it
   means." Beware of taking obscure passages such as those which are to be
   found in unfulfilled and emblematic prophecies. If a man will
   continually preach to an ordinary congregation about the seals and
   vials and trumpets in Revelation, or about Ezekiel's temple, or about
   predestination, free will, and the eternal purposes of God, it will not
   be at all surprising to any reasonable mind if he fails to attain
   simplicity. I do not mean that these subjects ought not to be handled
   occasionally, at fit times, and before a suitable audience. All I say
   is, that they are very deep subjects, about which wise Christians often
   disagree, and it is almost impossible to make them very simple. We
   ought to see our subjects plainly, if we wish to make them simple, and
   there are hundreds of plain subjects to be found in God's Word.

   Beware, for the same reason, of taking up what I call fanciful subjects
   and accommodated texts, and then dragging out of them meanings which
   the Holy Ghost never intended to put into them. There is no subject
   needful for the soul's health which is not to be found plainly taught
   and set forth in Scripture. This being the case, I think a preacher
   should never take a text and extract from it, as a dentist would a
   tooth from the jaw, something which, however true in itself, is not the
   plain literal meaning of the inspired words. The sermon may seem very
   glittering and ingenious, and his people may go away saying, "What a
   clever parson we have got!" But if, on examination, they can neither
   find the sermon in the text, nor the text in the sermon, their minds
   are perplexed, and they begin to think the Bible is a deep book which
   cannot be understood. If you want to attain simplicity, beware of
   accommodated texts.

   When I speak of accommodated texts, let me explain what I mean. I
   remember hearing of a minister in a northern town, who was famous for
   preaching in this style. Once he gave out for his text, "He that is so
   impoverished that he hath no oblation, chooseth unto him a tree that
   will not rot" (Isa. 40:20). "Here," said he, "is man by nature
   impoverished and undone. He has nothing to offer, in order to make
   satisfaction for his soul. And what ought he to do? He ought to choose
   a tree which cannot rot, even the cross of our Lord Jesus

   Christ."--On another occasion, being anxious to preach on the doctrine
   of indwelling sin, he chose his text out of the history of Joseph and
   his brethren, and gave out the words, "The old man of whom ye spake, is
   he yet alive?" (Gen. 43:27). Out of this question he ingeniously
   twisted a discourse about the infection of nature remaining in the
   believer,--a grand truth, no doubt, but certainly not the truth of the
   passage. Such instances will, I trust, be a warning to all my younger
   brethren. If you want to preach about the indwelling corruption of
   human nature, or about Christ crucified, you need not seek for such
   far-fetched texts as those I have named. If you want to be simple, mind
   you choose plain simple texts.

   Furthermore, if you wish to see through your subjects thoroughly, and
   so to attain the foundation of simplicity, do not be ashamed of
   dividing your sermons and stating your divisions. I need hardly say
   this is a very vexed question. There is a morbid dread of "firstly,
   secondly, and thirdly" in many quarters. The stream of fashion runs
   strongly against divisions, and I must frankly confess that a lively
   undivided sermon is much better than one divided in a dull, stupid,
   illogical way. Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind. He
   that can preach sermons which strike and stick without divisions, by
   all means let him hold on his way and persevere. But let him not
   despise his neighbour who divides. All I say is, if we would be simple,
   there must be order in a sermon as there is in an army. What wise
   general would mix up artillery, infantry, and cavalry in one confused
   mass in the day of battle? What giver of a banquet or dinner would
   dream of putting on the table the whole of the viands at once, the
   soup, the fish, the entrees, the joints, the salads, the game, the
   sweets, the dessert, in one huge dish? Such a host would hardly be
   thought to serve his dinner well. Just so I say it is with sermons. By
   all means let there be order--order, whether you bring out your
   "firstly, secondly, or thirdly," or not--order, whether your divisions
   are concealed or expressed--order so carefully arranged that your
   points and ideas shall follow one another in beautiful regularity, like
   regiments marching past before the Queen on a review day in Windsor
   Park.

   For my own part, I honestly confess that I do not think I have preached
   two sermons in my life without divisions. I find it of the utmost
   importance to make people understand, remember, and carry away what I
   say, and I am certain that divisions help me to do so. They are, in
   fact, like hooks and pegs and shelves in the mind. If you study the
   sermons of men who have been and are successful preachers, you will
   always find order, and often divisions, in their sermons. I am not a
   bit ashamed to say that I often read the sermons of Mr. Spurgeon. I
   like to gather hints about preaching from all quarters. David did not
   ask about the sword of Goliath, Who made it? who polished it? what
   blacksmith forged it? He said, "There is nothing like it;" for he had
   once used it to cut off its owner's head. Mr. Spurgeon can preach most
   ably, and he proves it by keeping his enormous congregation together.
   We ought always to examine and analyze sermons which draw people
   together. Now when you read Mr. Spurgeon's sermons, note how clearly
   and perspicuously he divides a sermon, and fills each division with
   beautiful and simple ideas. How easily you grasp his meaning! How
   thoroughly he brings before you certain great truths, that hang to you
   like hooks of steel, and which, once planted in your memory, you never
   forget!

   My first point, then, if you would be simple in your preaching, is,
   that you must thoroughly understand your subject, and if you want to
   know whether you understand it, try to divide and arrange it. I can
   only say for myself; that I have done this ever since I have been a
   minister. For forty-five years I have kept blank MS. books in which I
   put down texts and heads of sermons for use when require& Whenever I
   get hold of a text, and see my way through it, I put it down and make a
   note of it. If I do not see my way through a text, I cannot preach on
   it, because I know I cannot be simple; and if I cannot be simple, I
   know I had better not preach at all

   II. The second hint I would give is this: Try to use in all your
   sermons, as far as you can, simple words. In saying this, however, I
   must explain myself. When I talk of simple words, I do not mean words
   of only one syllable, or words which are purely Saxon. I cannot in this
   matter agree with Archbishop Whately. I think he goes too far in his
   recommendation of Saxon, though there is much truth in what he says
   about it. I rather prefer the saying of that wise old heathen Cicero,
   when he said, that orators should try to use words which are "in daily
   common use" amongst the people. Whether the words are Saxon or not, or
   of two or three syllables. it does not matter so long as they are words
   commonly used and understood by the people. Only, whatever you do,
   beware of what the poor shrewdly call "dictionary" words, that is, of
   words which are abstract, or scientific, or pedantic, or complicated,
   or indefinite, or very long. They may seem very fine, and sound very
   grand, but they are rarely of any use. The most powerful and forcible
   words, as a rule, are very short.

   Let me say one word more to confirm what I have stated about that
   common fallacy of the desirableness of always using Saxon English. I
   would remind you that a vast number of words of other than Saxon origin
   are used by writers of notorious simplicity. Take, for instance, the
   famous work of John Bunyan, and look at the very title of it, The
   Pilgrim's Progress. Neither of the leading words in that title is
   Saxon. Would he have improved matters if he had called it "The
   Wayfarer's Walk"? In saying this I admit freely that words of French
   and Latin origin are generally inferior to Saxon; and, as a rule, I
   should say, use strong pure Saxon words if you can. All I mean to say
   is, that you must not think it a matter of course that words cannot be
   good and simple if they are not of Saxon origin. In any case, beware of
   long words.

   Dr. Gee, in his excellent book, Our Sermons (Longman), very ably points
   out the uselessness of using long words and expressions not in common
   use. For example, he says, "Talk of happiness rather than of felicity,
   talk of almighty rather than omnipotent, lessen rather than diminish,
   forbidden rather than proscribed, hateful rather than noxious, seeming
   rather than apparent, afterwards rather than subsequently, call out and
   draw forth instead of evoke and educe." We all need to be pulled up
   sharply on these points. It is very well to use fine words at Oxford
   and Cambridge, before classical hearers, and in preaching before
   educated audiences. But depend upon it, when you preach to ordinary
   congregations, the sooner you throw overboard this sort of English, and
   use plain common words, the better. One thing, at all events, is quite
   certain, without simple words you will never attain simplicity in
   preaching.

   III. The third hint I would offer, if you wish to attain simplicity in
   preaching, is this: Take care to aim at a simple style of composition.
   I will try to illustrate what I mean. If you take up the sermons
   preached by that great and wonderful man Dr. Chalmers, you can hardly
   fail to see what an enormous number of lines you meet with without
   coming to a full stop. This I cannot but regard as a great mistake. It
   may suit Scotland, but it will never do for England. If you would
   attain a simple style of composition, beware of writing many lines
   without coming to a pause, and so allowing the minds of your hearers to
   take breath. Beware of colons and semicolons. Stick to commas and full
   stops, and take care to write as if you were asthmatical or short of
   breath. Never write or speak very long sentences or long paragraphs.
   Use stops frequently, and start again; and the oftener you do this, the
   more likely you are to attain a simple style of composition. Enormous
   sentences full of colons, semicolons, and parentheses, with paragraphs
   of two or three pages' length, are utterly fatal to simplicity. We
   should bear in mind that preachers have to do with hearers and not
   readers, and that what will "read" well will not always "speak" well. A
   reader of English can always help himself by looking back a few lines
   and refreshing his mind. A hearer of English hears once for all, and if
   he loses the thread of your sermon in a long involved sentence, he very
   likely never finds it again.

   Again, simplicity in your style of composition depends very much upon
   the proper use of proverbs and epigrammatic sentences. This is of vast
   importance. Here, I think, is the value of much that you find in
   Matthew Henry's commentary, and Bishop Hall's Contemplations. There are
   some good sayings of this sort in a book not known so well as it should
   be, called Papers on Preaching by a Wykehamist. Take a few examples of
   what I mean: "What we weave in time we wear in eternity." "Hell is
   paved with good intentions." "Sin forsaken is one of the best evidences
   of sin forgiven." "It matters little how we die, but it matters much
   how we live." "Meddle with no man's person, but spare no man's sin."
   "The street is soon clean when every one sweeps before his own door."
   "Lying rides on debt's back: it is hard for an empty bag to stand
   upright." "He that begins with prayer will end with praise" "All is not
   gold that glitters." "In religion, as in business, there are no gains
   without pains." "In the Bible there are shallows where a lamb can wade,
   and depths where an elephant must swim." "One thief on the cross was
   saved, that none should despair, and only one, that none should
   presume."

   Proverbial, epigrammatic, and antithetical sayings of this kind give
   wonderful perspicuousness and force to a sermon. Labour to store your
   minds with them. Use them judiciously, and especially at the end of
   paragraphs, and you will find them an immense help to the attainment of
   a simple style of composition. But of long, involved, complicated
   sentences always beware.

   IV. The fourth hint I will give is this: If you wish to preach simply,
   use a direct style. What do I mean by this? I mean the practice and
   custom of saying "I" and "you." When a man takes up this style of
   preaching, he is often told that he is conceited and egotistical. The
   result is that many preachers are never direct, and always think it
   very humble and modest and becoming to say "we." But I remember good
   Bishop Villiers saying that "we" was a word kings and corporations
   should use, and they alone, but that parish clergymen should always
   talk of "I" and "you." I endorse that saying with all my heart. I
   declare I never can understand what the famous pulpit "we" means. Does
   the preacher who all through his sermon keeps saying "we" mean himself
   and the bishop? or himself and the Church? or himself and the
   congregation? or himself and the

   Early Fathers? or himself and the Reformers? or himself and all the
   wise men in the world? or, after all, does he only mean myself, plain
   "John Smith" or "Thomas Jones"? If he only means himself, what earthly
   reason can he give for using the plural number, and not saying simply
   and plainly "I"? When he visits his parishioners, or sits by a
   sick-bed, or catechises his school, or orders bread at the baker's, or
   meat at the butcher's, he does not say "we," but "I." Why, then, I
   should like to know, can he not say "I" in the pulpit? What right has
   he, as a modest man, to speak for any one but himself? Why not stand up
   on Sunday and say, "Reading in the Word of God, I have found a text
   containing such things as these, and I come to set them before you"?

   Many people, I am sure, do not understand what the preacher's "we"
   means. The expression leaves them in a kind of fog. If you say, " I,
   your rector; I, your vicar; I, the curate of the parish," come here to
   talk of something that concerns your soul, something you should
   believe, something you should do--you are at any rate understood. But
   if you begin to talk in the vague plural number of what" we" ought to
   do, many of your hearers do not know what you are driving at, and
   whether you are speaking to yourself or them. I charge and entreat my
   younger brethren in the ministry not to forget this point. Do try to be
   as direct as possible. Never mind what people say of you. In this
   particular do not imitate Chalmers, or Melville, or certain other
   living pulpit celebrities. Never say "we" when you mean "I." The more
   you get into the habit of talking plainly to the people, in the first
   person singular, as old Bishop Latimer did, the simpler will your
   sermon be, and the more easily understood. The glory of Whitefield's
   sermons is their directness. But unhappily they were so badly reported,
   that we cannot now appreciate them.

   V. The fifth and last hint I wish to give you is this: If you would
   attain simplicity in preaching, you must use plenty of anecdotes and
   illustrations. You must regard illustrations as windows through which
   light is let in upon your subject. Upon this point a great deal might
   be said, but the limits of a small treatise oblige me to touch it very
   briefly. I need hardly remind you of the example of Him who "spake as
   never man spake," our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Study the four
   Gospels attentively, and mark what a wealth of illustration His sermons
   generally contain. How often you find figure upon figure, parable upon
   parable, in His discourses! There was nothing under His eyes apparently
   from which He did not draw lessons. The birds of the air, and the fish
   in the sea, the sheep, the goats, the. cornfield, the vineyard, the
   ploughman, the sower, the reaper, the fisherman, the shepherd, the
   vinedresser, the woman kneading meal, the flowers, the grass, the bank,
   the wedding feast, the sepulchre, mall were made vehicles for conveying
   thoughts to the minds of hearers. What are such parables as the
   prodigal son, the good Samaritan, the ten virgins, the king who made a
   marriage for his son, the rich man and Lazarus, the labourers of the
   vineyard, and others,--what are all these but stirring stories that our
   Lord tells in order to convey some great truth to the souls of His
   hearers? Try to walk in His footsteps and follow His example.

   If you pause in your sermon, and say, "Now I will tell you a story," I
   engage that all who are not too fast asleep will prick up their ears
   and listen. People like similes, illustrations, and well-told stories,
   and will listen to them when they will attend to nothing else. And from
   what countless sources we can get illustrations! Take all the book of
   nature around us. Look at the sky above and the world beneath. Look at
   history. Look at all the branches of science, at geology, at botany, at
   chemistry, at astronomy. What is there in heaven above or earth below
   from which you may not bring illustrations to throw light on the
   message of the gospel? Read Bishop Latimer's sermons, the most popular,
   perhaps, that were ever preached. Read the works of Brooks, and Watson,
   and Swinnock, the Puritans. How full they are of illustrations,
   figures, metaphors, and stories! Look at Mr. Moody's sermons. What is
   one secret of his popularity? He fills his sermons with pleasing
   stories. He is the best speaker, says an Arabian proverb, who can turn
   the ear into an eye.

   For my part, I not only try to tell stories, but in country parishes I
   have sometimes put before people familiar illustrations which they can
   see. For instance ---Do I want to show them that there must have been a
   first great cause or Being who made this world? I have sometimes taken
   out my watch, and have said, "Look at this watch. How well it is made!
   Do any of you suppose for a moment that all the screws, all the.
   wheels, all the pins of that watch came together by accident? Would not
   any one say there must have. been a watchmaker? And if so, it follows
   most surely that there must have been a Maker of the world, whose
   handiwork we see graven on the face of every one of those glorious
   planets going their yearly rounds and keeping time to a single second.
   Look at the world in which you live, and the wonderful things which it
   contains. Will you tell me that there is no God, and that creation is
   the result of chance?" Or sometimes I have taken out a bunch of keys
   and shaken them. The whole congregation, when they hear the keys, look
   up. Then I say, "Would there be need of any keys if all men were
   perfect and honest? What does this bunch of keys show? Why, they show
   that the heart of man is deceitful above all things, and desperately
   wicked." Illustration, I confidently assert, is one of the best
   receipts for making a sermon simple, clear, perspicuous, and easily
   understood. Lay yourselves out for it. Pick up illustrations wherever
   you can. Keep your eyes open, and use them well. Happy is that preacher
   who has an eye for similitudes, and a memory stored with well-chosen
   stories and illustrations. If he is a real man of God, and knows how to
   deliver a sermon, he will never preach to bare walls and empty benches.

   But I must add a word of caution. There is a way of telling stories. If
   a man cannot tell stories naturally, he had better not tell them at
   all. Illustration, again, after all I have said in its favour, may be
   carried too far. I remember a notable instance of this in the case of
   the great Welsh preacher, Christmas Evans. There is in print a sermon
   of his about the wonderful miracle that took place in Gadara, when
   devils took possession of the swine, and the whole herd ran down
   violently into the sea. He paints it so minutely that it really becomes
   ludicrous by reason of the words put in the mouth of the swineherds who
   told their master of the loss he had sustained. "Oh! sir," says one,
   "the pigs have all gone!" "But," says the master, "where have they
   gone?" "They have run down into the sea." "But who drove them down?"
   "Oh! sir, that wonderful man." "Well, what sort of a man was he? What
   did he do?" "Why, sir, he came and talked such strange things, and the
   whole herd ran suddenly down the steep place into the sea." "What, the
   old black boar and all?" "Yes, sir, the old black boar has gone too;
   for as we looked round, we just saw the end of his tail going over the
   cliff." Now that is going to an extreme. So, again, Dr. Guthrie's
   admirable sermons are occasionally so overlade with illustrations as to
   remind one of cake made almost entirely of plums and containing hardly
   any flour. Put plenty of colour and picture into your sermon by all
   means. Draw sweetness and light from all sources and from all
   creatures, from the heavens and the earth, from history, from science.
   But after all there is a limit. You must be careful how you use colour,
   lest you do as much harm as good. Do not put on colour by spoonfuls,
   but with a brush. This caution remembered, you will find colour an
   immense aid in the attainment of simplicity and perspicuousness in
   preaching.

   And now bear in mind that my five points are these: First: If you want
   to attain simplicity in preaching, you must have a clear knowledge of
   what you are going to preach.

   Secondly: If you would attain simplicity in preaching, you must use
   simple words.

   Thirdly: If you would attain simplicity in preaching, you must seek to
   acquire a simple style of composition, with short sentences and as few
   colons and semicolons as possible.

   Fourthly: If you would attain simplicity in preaching, aim at
   directness.

   Lastly: If you would attain simplicity in preaching, make abundant use
   of illustration and anecdote.

   Let me add to all this one plain word of application. You will never
   attain simplicity in preaching without plenty of trouble. Pains and
   trouble, I say emphatically, pains and trouble. When Turner, the great
   painter, was asked by some one how it was he mixed his colours so well,
   and what it was that made them so different from those of other
   artists: "Mix them? mix them? mix them? Why, with brains, sir." I am
   persuaded that, in preaching, little can be done except by trouble and
   by pains.

   I have heard that a young and careless clergyman once said to Richard
   Cecil, "I think I want more faith." ":No," said the wise old man; "you
   want more works. You want more pains. You must not think that God will
   do work for you, though He is ready to do it by you." I entreat my
   younger brethren to remember this. I beg them to make time for their
   composition of sermons, to take trouble and to exercise their brains by
   reading. Only mind that you read what is useful.

   I would not have you spend your time in reading the Fathers in order to
   help your preaching. They are very useful in their way, but there are
   many things more useful in modern writers, if you choose them
   discreetly.

   Read good models, and become familiar with good specimens of simplicity
   in preaching. As your best model, take the English Bible. If you speak
   the language in which that is written, you will speak well. Read John
   Bunyan's immortal work, the .Pilgrim's .progress. Read it again and
   again, if you wish to attain simplicity in preaching. Do not be above
   reading the Puritans. Some of them no doubt are heavy. Goodwin and Owen
   are very heavy, though excellent artillery in position. Read such books
   as Baxter, and Watson, and Traill, and Flavel, and Charnock, and Hall,
   and Henry. They are, to my mind, models of the best simple English
   spoken in old times. Remember, however, that language alters with
   years. They spoke English, and so do we, but their style was different
   from ours. Read beside them the best models of modern English that you
   can get at. I believe the best English writer for the last hundred
   years was William Cobbett, the political Radical. I think he wrote the
   finest simple Saxon-English the world has ever seen. In the present day
   I do not know a greater master of tersely spoken Saxon-English than
   John Bright. Among old political orators, the speeches of Lord Chatham
   and Patrick Henry, the American, are models of good English. Last, but
   not least, never forget that, next to the Bible, there is nothing in
   the English language which, for combined simplicity, perspicuousness,
   eloquence, and power, can be compared with some of the great speeches
   in Shakespeare. Models of this sort must really be studied, and studied
   "with brains," too, if you wish to attain a good style of composition
   in preaching. On the other hand, do not be above talking to the poor,
   and visiting your people from house to house. Sit down with your people
   by the fireside, and exchange thoughts with them on all subjects. Find
   out how they think and how they express themselves, if you want them to
   understand your sermons. By so doing you will insensibly learn much.
   You will be continually picking up modes of thought, and get notions as
   to what you should say in your pulpit.

   A humble country clergyman was once asked "whether he studied the
   fathers." The worthy man replied, that he had little opportunity of
   studying the fathers, as they were generally out in the fields when he
   called. But he studied the mothers more, because he often found them at
   home, and he could talk to them.

   Wittingly or unwittingly, the good man hit a nail right on the head. We
   must talk to our people when we are out of church, if we would
   understand how to preach to them in the church.

   (a) I will only say, in conclusion, that whatever we preach, or
   whatever pulpit we occupy, whether we preach simply or not, whether we
   preach written or extempore, we ought to aim not merely at letting off
   fireworks, but at preaching that which will do lasting good to souls.
   Let us beware of fireworks in our preaching. "Beautiful" sermons,
   "brilliant" sermons, "clever" sermons, "popular" sermons, are often
   sermons which have no effect on the congregation, and do not draw men
   to Jesus Christ. Let us aim so to preach, that what we say may really
   come home to men's minds and consciences and hearts, and make them
   think and consider.

   (b) All the simplicity in the world can do no good, unless you preach
   the simple gospel of Jesus Christ so fully and clearly that everybody
   can understand it. If Christ crucified has not His rightful place in
   your sermons, and sin is not exposed as it should be, and your people
   are not plainly told what they ought to believe, and be, and do, YOUR
   PREACHING IS OF NO USE.

   (c) All the simplicity in the world, again, is useless without a good
   lively delivery. If you bury your head in your bosom, and mumble over
   your manuscript in a dull, monotonous, droning way, like a bee in a
   bottle, so that people cannot understand what you are speaking about,
   your preaching will be in vain. Depend upon it, delivery is not
   sufficiently attended to in our Church. In this, as in everything else
   connected with the science of preaching, I consider the Church of
   England is sadly deficient. I know that I began preaching alone in the
   New Forest, and nobody ever told me what was right or wrong in the
   pulpit. The result was that the first year of my preaching was a series
   of experiments. We get no help in these matters at Oxford and
   Cambridge. The utter want of any proper training for the pulpit is one
   great blot and defect in the system of the Church of England.

   (d) Above all, let us never forget that all the simplicity in the world
   is useless without prayer for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, and
   the grant of God's blessing, and a life corresponding in some measure
   to what we preach. Be it ours to have an earnest desire for the souls
   of men, while we seek for simplicity in preaching the gospel of Jesus
   Christ, and let us never forget to accompany our sermons by holy living
   and fervent prayer.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [3] The substance of this paper was originally addressed, as a lecture,
   to a clerical audience, at St. Paul's Cathedral, on behalf of the
   Homiletical Society.For a certain roughness and abruptness of style I
   must apologize. But my readers must kindly remember that the lecture
   was spoken and not written, and is prepared for the press from the
   notes of a shorthand writer.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IV
  1 Cor. 15:3-4.
  FOUNDATION TRUTHS.

   [4]

   "I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that
   Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures;

   "And that He was buried, and that He rose again the third day according
   to the Scriptures."--1 Cor. 15:3-4.

   THE text which heads this paper is taken from a passage of Scripture
   with which most Englishmen are only too well acquainted. It is the
   chapter from which the lesson has been selected, which forms part of
   the matchless Burial Service of the Church of England. Of all the
   occasional services of the Prayer Book, none, in my humble judgment, is
   more beautiful than this. The good old "Book of Common Prayer," we all
   know, has no form or comeliness in the eyes of some. We have seen the
   burial laws of this realm altered, and other "uses" sanctioned, and
   introduced into our churchyards at funerals. But of one tiling I am
   very certain. We shall never see the bodies of professing Christians
   committed to the ground with a wiser and better service than that of
   the Anglican Liturgy.

   The starting-point of the whole argument of this chapter will be found
   in the two verses which form the text. The Apostle opens by reminding
   the Corinthians that" among the first things "which he delivered to
   them, when he commenced his teaching, were two great facts about
   Christ: one was His death, the other was His resurrection. The passage
   seems to me to open up two subjects of deep interest, and to them I
   invite the attention of all into whose hands this paper may fall.

   I. For one thing, let us mark well the primary truths which St. Paul
   delivered to the Corinthians.

   II. For another thing, let us try to grasp the reasons why St. Paul
   assigns to these truths such a singularly prominent position.

   I. What, then, were the things which the Apostle preached" first of
   all," that is, among the first things, at Corinth?

   Before I answer that question, I ask my readers to pause awhile and
   realize the whole position which St. Paul occupied when he left Athens
   and entered Corinth.

   Here is a solitary Jew visiting a great heathen city for the first
   time, to preach an entirely new religion, to begin an aggressive
   Evangelistic mission. He is a member of a despised people, sneered at
   alike by Greeks and Romans, isolated and cut off from other nations, in
   their own little corner of the earth, by their peculiar laws and
   habits, and unknown to Gentiles either for literature, arms, arts, or
   science. The "bodily presence" of this bold Jew is "weak," and his
   "speech," compared to that of Greek rhetoricians," contemptible" (2
   Cor. 10:10). He stands almost alone in a city, famous all over the
   world, even in the estimate of the heathen, for luxury, immorality, and
   idolatry. Such was the place, and such was the man! A more remarkable
   position it is hard to conceive.

   And what did this solitary Jew tell the Corinthians?

   What did he say about the great Head and Founder of the new faith which
   he wanted them to receive in place of their ancient religion? Did he
   begin by cautiously telling them how Christ lived, and taught, and
   worked miracles, and spake "as no man ever spake"? Did he tell them
   that He had been rich as Solomon, victorious as Joshua, or learned as
   Moses? Nothing of the kind! The very first fact he proclaimed about
   Christ was that He died, and died the most ignominious death- the death
   of a malefactor, the death of the cross.

   And why did St. Paul lay so much stress upon Christ's death rather than
   His life? Because, he tells the Corinthians, "He died for our sins." A
   deep and wonderful truth that, a truth which lay at the very foundation
   of the whole religion which the Apostle came to preach! For that death
   of Christ was not the involuntary death of a martyr, or a mere example
   of self-sacrifice. It was the voluntary death of a Divine Substitute
   for the guilty children of Adam, by which He made atonement for " the
   sin of the world." It was a death of such mighty influence on the
   position of sinful man before God, that it provided complete redemption
   from the consequences of the fall. In a word, St. Paul told the
   Corinthians that when Christ died, He died as the Representative of
   guilty man, to make expiation for us by the sacrifice of Himself, and
   to endure the penalty which we deserved. "He bore our sins in His own
   body on the tree." "He suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that
   He might bring us to God." "He was made sin for us who knew no sin,
   that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him" (1 Pet. 2:24,
   3:18; 2 Cor. 5:21). A great and stupendous mystery, no doubt! But it
   was a mystery to which every sacrifice from the time of Abel had been
   continually pointing for 4000 years. Christ died "according to the
   Scriptures."

   The other great fact about Christ which St. Paul placed in the front
   part of his teaching was His resurrection from the dead. He boldly told
   the Corinthians that the same Jesus who died, and was buried, came
   forth alive from the grave on the third day after His death, and was
   seen, touched, handled, and talked to, in the body, by many competent
   witnesses. By this amazing miracle He proved, as He had frequently said
   He would, that He was the promised and long-expected Saviour foretold
   in prophecy, that the satisfaction for sin He had made by His death was
   accepted by God the Father, that the work of our redemption was
   completed, and that death, as well as sin, was a conquered enemy. In
   short, the Apostle taught that the greatest of miracles had been
   wrought, and that with such a Founder of the new faith which he came to
   proclaim, first dying for our sins, and then rising again for our
   justification, nothing was impossible, and nothing wanting for the
   salvation of man's soul.

   Such were the two great truths to which St. Paul assigned the first
   place, when he began his campaign as a Christian teacher at
   Corinth,--Christ's vicarious death for our sins,-- Christ's rising
   again from the grave. Nothing seems to have preceded them: nothing to
   have been placed on a level with them. No doubt it was a sore trial of
   faith and courage to a learned and highly-educated man like St. Paul to
   take up such a line. Flesh and blood might well shrink from it. He says
   himself, "I was with you in weakness and fear, and in much trembling"
   (1 Cor. 2:2-3). But by the grace of God he did not flinch. He says, "I
   determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ and Him
   crucified."

   Nor did the case of Corinth stand alone. Wherever the great Apostle of
   the Gentiles went, he preached the same doctrine, and put it in the
   forefront of his preaching. He addressed very different hearers, and
   people of very different minds. But he always used the same spiritual
   medicine, whether at Jerusalem, or Antioch in Pisidia, or Iconium, or
   Lystra, or Philippi, or Thessalonica, or Berea, or Athens, or Ephesus,
   or Rome. That medicine was the story of the cross and the resurrection.
   They crop up in all his sermons and Epistles. You never go far without
   coming across them. Even Festus, the Roman governor, when he tells
   AgripPsalms of Paul's case, describes it as hinging on "One Jesus,
   which was dead, whom Paul affirmed to be alive" (Acts 25:19).

   (a) Now let us learn for one thing what were the leading principles of
   that religion, which eighteen centuries ago came forth from Palestine,
   and turned the world upside down. The veriest infidel cannot deny the
   effect that it produced on mankind. The world before and the world
   after the introduction of Christianity were as different worlds as
   light and darkness, night and day. It was Christianity that starved
   idolatry, and emptied the heathen temples,--that stopped gladiatorial
   combats, elevated the position of women, raised the whole tone of
   morality, and improved the condition of children and the poor. These
   are facts which we may safely challenge all the enemies of revealed
   religion to gainsay. They are facts which form one of the gravest
   difficulties of infidelity. And what did it all? Not, as some dare to
   say, the mere publication of a higher code of duty, a sort of improved
   Platonic philosophy, without root or motive. No! it was the simple
   story of the cross of Calvary, and the empty sepulchre in the garden,
   the marvellous death of One "numbered with transgressors," and the
   astounding miracle of His resurrection (Isa. 53:12). It was by telling
   how the Son of God died for our sins, and rose again for our
   justification, that Apostles and apostolic men changed the face of the
   world, gathered mighty churches, and turned countless shiners into
   saints.

   (b) Let us learn, for another thing, what the foundation of our own
   personal religion must be, if we really want inward, spiritual comfort.
   That the early Christians possessed such comfort is as plain as the sun
   at noonday. We read repeatedly in the New Testament of their joy, and
   peace, and hope, and patience, and cheerfulness, and contentment. We
   read in ecclesiastical history of their courage and firmness under the
   fiercest persecution, of their uncomplaining endurance of sufferings,
   and their triumphant deaths. And what was the mainspring of their
   peculiar characters,--characters which excited the admiration even of
   their bitterest enemies, and puzzled philosophers like Pliny? There can
   only be one reply. These men had a firm gasp of the two great facts
   which St. Paul proclaimed " first" and foremost to the Corinthians, the
   death and resurrection of their great Head, Jesus Christ the Lord. Let
   us never be ashamed of walking in their steps. It is cheap and easy
   work to sneer at " dogmatic theology" and old-fashioned creeds and
   modes of faith, as if they were effete and worn-out things, unfit for
   this enlightened nineteenth century. But after all, what are the fruits
   of modern philosophy, and the teaching of cold abstractions, compared
   to the fruits of the despised dogmas of distinctive Christianity? If
   you want to see peace in life, and hope in death, and consolation felt
   in sorrow, you will never find such things except among those who rest
   on the two great facts of our text, and can say, "I live by faith in
   the Son of God," who died for my sins, and was raised again for my
   justification (Gal. 2:20).

   II. Let me turn now to another view of the subject before us. We have
   seen what the truths were which St. Paul proclaimed "first of all" to
   the Corinthians, and what were the effects which they produced. Let us
   now try to grasp and examine the reasons why he was led to assign them
   such a prominent position.

   The inquiry is a very interesting one. I cannot hold, with some, that
   St. Paul adopted this course only because he was commissioned and
   commanded to do so. I think the reasons lie far deeper than this. Those
   reasons are to be sought in the necessities and condition of fallen
   human nature. I believe that man's wants could never have been met and
   satisfied by any other message than that which St. Paul brought to
   Corinth; and if he had not brought it, he would have come thither in
   vain.

   For there are three things about man in every part of the world which
   force themselves on our notice, whenever we sit down to examine his
   nature, position, and constitution. He is a creature with a sense of
   sin and accountableness at the bottom of his heart---a creature
   continually liable to sorrow and trouble from his cradle to his grave,
   and a creature who has before him the certainty of death, and a future
   state at last. These are three great facts which stare us in the face
   everywhere, in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America. Travel all over the
   world, and they meet you, both among the most highly educated
   Christians and the most untutored savages. Go about our own country,
   and study the family life of the most learned philosophers and the most
   ignorant peasants. Everywhere, and in every rank and class, you will
   have to make the same report. Everywhere you will find these three
   things, sorrow, death, and the sense of sin. And the position I boldly
   take up is this, that nothing can be imagined or conceived more
   admirably suited to meet the wants of human nature than the very
   doctrine which St. Paul began with at Corinth--the doctrine of Christ
   dying for our sins and rising again for us from the grave.

   It fits the needs of man, just as the right key fits the lock.

   Let me glance for a few minutes at the three things which I have just
   named, and try to show the strong light which they throw on St. Paul's
   choice of subjects when he began his ministry at Corinth.

   (a) Consider first and foremost, the, inward sense of sin and
   imperfection which exists in every member of the human family, more or
   less. I grant freely that it differs widely in different persons. In
   thousands of people it seems completely gone, effaced, and dead. Early
   want of education, customary sin, constant neglect of all religion,
   habitual indulgence in fleshly lusts,--all these things have a
   wonderful power to blind the eye and sear the conscience. But where
   will you ever find a man, except among high-caste Brahmins, or
   half-crazy Christian fanatics, who will boldly tell you that he is
   perfect and faultless, and who will not confess, if you drive him into
   a corner, that he is not exactly what he ought to be, and that he knows
   better than he does? Oh, no! The vast majority of mankind have a
   conscience of sin, which every now and then makes them miserable. The
   self-imposed austerities of Hindoos, the trembling of rulers like Herod
   and Felix, are proofs of what I mean. Wherever there is a child of
   Adam, there is a creature that has in his heart of hearts a
   consciousness of guilt, defectiveness, and need.

   And when this sense of sin is really awakened, and stirs within us,
   what can cure it? That is the grand question. Some talk vaguely of
   God's "mercy" and "goodness," though utterly unable to explain their
   meaning, and to show what title man has to them. Others flatter
   themselves that their own repentance, and tears, and prayers, and
   active and diligent use of the ceremonials of religion, will bring them
   peace. But what child of Adam ever found relief in this way? What more
   certain than the recorded experience of thousands, that medicines like
   these never healed inward misgivings and mental fears? Nothing has ever
   been found to do good to a sin-stricken soul but the sight of a Divine
   Mediator between God and man, a real living Person of almighty power
   and almighty mercy, bearing our sins, suffering in our stead, and
   taking on Himself the whole burden of our redemption. So long as man
   only looks within, and thinks to efface the sense of sin by vain
   attempts to scour and purify his own character, so long he only feels
   more wretched every day. Once let him look without for peace, to "the
   Man Christ Jesus" dying for his sins, and rest his soul on Him, and he
   will find, as millions have found in the last eighteen centuries, that
   he has got the very thing that a wounded conscience needs. In short, a
   believing view of Christ dying for our sins is God's appointed remedy
   for man's spiritual need. It is the Divine specific for that deadly
   plague which infects the whole family of Adam, and once seen and felt
   makes men and women miserable. If Paul had not proclaimed this grand
   specific at Corinth, he would have shown great ignorance of human
   nature, and been a physician of no value. And if we ministers do not
   proclaim it, it is because our eyes are dim, and there is little light
   in us.

   (b) Let us consider, in the next place, the universal liability of man
   to sorrow. The testimony of Scripture, "that man is born to trouble,"
   is continually echoed by thousands who know nothing of the Scriptures,
   but simply speak the language of their own experience. The world,
   nearly all men agree, is full of trouble. It is a true saying, that we
   come into life crying, and pass through it complaining, and leave it
   disappointed. Of all God's creatures, none is so vulnerable as man.
   Body, and mind, and affections, and family, and property, are all
   liable in their turn to become sources and avenues of sorrow. And from
   this no rank or class possesses any immunity. There are sorrows for the
   rich as well as the poor, for the learned as well as the unlearned, for
   the young as well as the old, for the castle as well as the cottage;
   and neither wealth, nor science, nor high position can prevent their
   forcing their way into our homes, and breaking in upon us sometimes
   like an armed man. These are ancient things, I know; the poets and
   philosophers of old Greece and Rome knew them as well as we do. But it
   is well to be put in remembrance.

   For what shall best help man to meet and bear sorrow? That is the
   question. If our condition is such, since the Fall, that we cannot
   escape sorrow, what is the surest receipt for making it tolerable? The
   cold lessons of Stoicism have no power in them. Resignation and
   submission to the will of God are excellent things to talk about in
   fine weather. But when the storm strikes us, and hearts ache, and tears
   flow, and gaps are made in our family circle, and friends fail us, and
   money makes itself wings, and sickness lays us low, we want something
   more than abstract principles and general lessons. We want a living,
   personal Friend, a Friend to whom we can turn with firm confidence that
   he can help and feel.

   Now it is just here, I maintain, that St. Paul's doctrine of a risen
   Christ comes in with a marvellous power, and exactly meets our
   necessities. We have One sitting at the right hand of God, as our
   sympathizing Friend, who has all power to help us, and can be-touched
   with the feeling of our infirmities, even Jesus the Son of God. He
   knows the heart of a man and all his condition, for He Himself was born
   of a woman, and took part of flesh and blood. He knows what sorrow is,
   for He Himself in the days of His flesh wept, and groaned, and grieved.
   He has proved His love towards us by "bearing our manners" for
   thirty-three years in this world, by a thousand acts of kindness, and
   ten thousand words of consolation, and by finally dying for us on the
   cross. And He took care before He left the world to say such golden
   sayings as these, "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God,
   believe also in Me." "I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to
   you." "Ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full" (John
   14:1, 18, 16:24). I can imagine no truth more suited to man's wants
   than this. Rules, and principles, and prescriptions, and instructions
   in times of sorrow are all very well in their way; but what the human
   heart craves is a personal friend to go to, to talk to, to lean back
   upon, and commune with. The risen Christ, living and interceding for us
   at God's right hand, is precisely the Person that we need. If St. Paul
   had not proclaimed Him to the Corinthians, he would have left one of
   man's greatest wants unsatisfied. No religion will ever satisfy man
   which does not meet the legitimate wants of his nature. Teachers who
   give no place to a living risen Christ in their system, must never be
   surprised if their weary hearers seek rest at the feet of human priests
   in the Romish Confessional.

   (c) Let us consider, lastly, the certainty of death and its
   consequences, which every child of Adam must make up his mind to face
   one day.

   To say that death is a serious thing, is to utter a very bald and
   commonplace truism. Yet it is a strange fact that the familiarity of
   6000 years does not abate one jot of its seriousness. The end of each
   individual is still a very momentous circumstance in his history, and
   most men honestly confess it. To leave the world and shut our eyes on
   all among whom we have played our part,--to surrender our bodies,
   whether we like it or not, to the humiliation of disease, decay, and
   the grave into be obliged to drop all our schemes and plans and
   intentions mall this is serious enough. But when to this you add the
   overwhelming thought that there is something beyond the grave, an
   undiscovered and unknown world, and an account of some sort to be
   rendered of our life on earth, the death of any man or woman becomes a
   tremendously serious event. Well may our great poet Shakespeare speak
   of "the dread of something after death." It is a dread which many feel
   far more than they would like to confess. Few are ever satisfied with
   Mohamedan fatalism. Not one in a thousand will ever be found to believe
   the doctrine of annihilation.

   Now at no point do the uninspired religions of the ancients, or the
   systems of modern philosophy, break down so completely as in the
   article of death. To dwell for ever in Elysian fields, amidst shadowy,
   immaterial ghosts, was a consummation little valued even by Homeric
   heroes. The vague, rootless theory of some undefined state of rest
   after death, where, somehow and in some way, the souls of the good and
   the just, separate from their bodies, are to spend an objectless,
   endless existence is a miserable comforter. Homer, and Plato, and
   Bolingbroke, and Voltaire, and Paine are all alike cheerless and silent
   when they look down into an open grave.

   But just at the point where all man-made systems are weakest, and fail
   to satisfy the wants of human nature, there the gospel which St. Paul
   proclaimed at Corinth is strongest. For it shows us an Almighty Saviour
   who not only died for our sins, and went down to the grave, but also
   rose again from the grave with His body, and proved that He had gained
   a victory over death. "Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become
   the first-fruits of them that slept."---" He has abolished death, and
   brought life and immortality to light."--" Through death He has
   destroyed death, and delivered them that through fear of death were all
   their lifetime subject to bondage" (1 Cor. 15:20; 2 Tim. 1:10; Heb.
   2:15).

   And thanks be to God, this blessed victory over death and the grave has
   not been won by Christ for Himself alone. For eighteen centuries He has
   enabled thousands of Christian men and women, believing and trusting
   themselves to Him, to face the king of terrors without fear, and to go
   down the valley of the shadow of death in the sure and certain hope
   that they will yet come forth victorious, and in the flesh see God.
   Read the story of the deaths of the early Christians under heathen
   persecutions. Mark the dying experience of those who suffered at Oxford
   and Smithfield, under Queen Mary, for Protestantism. Find, if you can,
   in the whole range of biography any death-beds of non-Christians which
   will bear comparison with the death-beds of Christians in the matter of
   peace, and hope, and strong consolation. You may search for ever and
   not find them. You will find yourself shut up to the conclusion that
   the old Scriptural truth of Christ dying and rising again is exactly
   the truth that fits human nature, and must have come down from God.
   This, and this only, will enable natural man to meet the last enemy
   without fear, and to say, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where
   is thy victory?" (1 Cor. 15:55).

   What shall we say to these things? I know well that the human heart and
   its necessities are a deep and intricate subject. But, after studying
   men's hearts attentively for many years, I have come to one decided
   conviction. That conviction is, that the true reason why St. Paul
   preached first and foremost what he preached at Corinth, is to be found
   in his right knowledge of the nature, moral condition, and position of
   man. He was taught of God the Holy Ghost that it was the only medicine
   that was suited to the disease. What human nature requires is a
   religion for dying sinners, a mighty remedial system and a personal
   Redeemer; and the work of Christ is marvellously fitted to meet its
   requirements. We are sick of a deadly sickness, and our first want is a
   living physician.

   It would have been worse than useless if St. Paul had begun his work at
   Corinth by telling men to be virtuous and moral, while he kept back
   Christ. It is just as useless now. It even does positive harm. To
   awaken human nature, and then not show it God's spiritual prescription,
   may lead to most mischievous consequences. I know no case so pitiable
   as that of the man who sees clearly sin, sorrow, and death on one side,
   and does not see clearly Christ dying for sins, and rising again for
   sinners, on the other. Such a man is just the person to sink into flat
   despair, or to take refuge in the delusive theology of the Church of
   Rome. No doubt we may sleep the sleep of unconversion for many years,
   and feel nothing of spiritual doubts and fears. But once let a man's
   conscience become uneasy, and crave peace, and I know no medicine which
   can cure him, and keep him from soul-ruining error, except the "first
   things" which St. Paul delivered at Corinth,--I mean the two doctrines
   of Christ's atoning death and resurrection.

   And now let me wind up this paper with some words of advice to all who
   read it. It is advice which the times appear to me to demand. Who can
   tell but to some one it may be a word in season?

   (a) Let me, then, advise you most strongly not to be ashamed of holding
   decided views about the first things, the foundation truths of
   religion. Your lot is cast in a day of free thought, free handling, and
   free inquiry. There is a widespread dislike to doctrinal decision and
   what is called dogmatism, and none perhaps are so exposed to its
   influence as the yoking. The natural generosity, unsuspiciousness, and
   love of fair play, of a young man's heart, make him shrink from taking
   up very positive theological views, and holding opinions which may even
   seem to be narrow, party-spirited, or illiberal. The temptation of the
   present day is to be content with a vague earnestness, to abstain from
   all sharply cut and distinct views, to be an honorary member of all
   schools of thought, and to maintain that no man can be unsound in the
   faith if he exhibits zeal and works hard.

   (b) But, after all, your religion must have roots, if it is to live and
   bear fruit in this cold world. "Earnestness," and "zeal," and "work"
   are brave words; but, like cut flowers stuck in a garden, they have no
   power of continuance, if they have no hidden roots below. Admitting to
   the full that there are secondary things in religion, about which those
   who are young may fairly suspend their judgment and wait for light, I
   charge you to remember that there are first things about which you must
   be decided and make up your minds. You must, I say, if you want peace
   within, and desire to be useful. And among these first things stand
   forth like mountains in a plain, the two great truths which are laid
   down in the text which heads this paper, Christ's death for our sins,
   and Christ's miraculous resurrection. Grasp tightly these two great
   truths. Plant your feet firmly on them. Feed your own soul on them.
   Live on them. Die on them. Never let them go. Strive to be able to say,
   "I know whom I believe,"--not what, but whom. I live by faith in One
   who died for me, and rose again. Be decided about this at any cost, and
   in due time all other truths shall be added to you.

   (c) Some, it may be, into whose hands this paper may have fallen are
   going forth from the quiet haven of a happy home into the battle and
   conflict of busy life. But wherever your lot may be cast, whether in
   town or in country, whether among rich or poor, I hope you will try to
   do good. And remember one chief problem you will have to be continually
   solving is how to help souls who are labouring under the burden of sin,
   crushed down with sorrow, or oppressed with the fear of death. And when
   that time comes, remember the word that I speak to you this day.--The
   only way to do good is to walk in St. Paul's steps, and to tell men
   first, foremost, continually, repeatedly, publicly, and from house to
   house, that Jesus Christ died for their sins, rose again for their
   justification, lives at the right hand of God to receive, to pardon,
   and to preserve, and will soon come again to give them a glorious
   resurrection. These are the truths which the Holy Ghost has always
   blessed, is blessing, and will bless until the Lord comes. These were
   St. Paul's "first things." Resolve and determine that by God's grace
   they shall be yours in this generation. I knew a man of God who made a
   great mark in his day, who said to me, thirty-five years ago, that
   Jeremiah was pre-eminently a book for the latter days of England. To
   that opinion I entirely subscribe. Holding that opinion, I ask my
   readers to hear a few words about the text which I have chosen. I
   commend it to you as a text for the times.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [4] The substance of these pages was originally delivered as a sermon
   before the University of Oxford, in my turn as Select Preacher at St.
   Mary's in the year 1830.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER V
  Jer. 6:16.
  THE GOOD WAY.

   [5]

   "Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the
   old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find
   rest for your souls." Jer. 6:16.

   THE book of the prophet Jeremiah receives from most Christians far less
   attention than it deserves. It is a noteworthy fact that hardly any
   portion of Holy Scripture is the subject of so few exhaustive
   commentaries and expositions.

   I fail to see the reason of this comparative neglect. The book was
   written, under God's inspiration, by a Jewish priest, at a peculiar
   crisis, in the last days of the kingdom of Judah. Jeremiah was God's
   messenger to a wicked king,--a worldly aristocracy,--a corrupt people,
   in a rotten Church, and a dead formal priesthood. He warned his
   countrymen faithfully, but, like Cassandra of old, he was not believed.
   He lived to see the complete ruin of Church and State, the city burnt,
   the temple of Solomon destroyed, and the people carried into captivity.
   And, finally, it is a Christian tradition, that, after being dragged
   into Egypt by the Jewish refugees, who fled there, he died the death of
   a martyr.

   I repeat that the writings of such a prophet as this deserve more
   attention than they have hitherto received.

   I. First of all, you have in this text excellent general advice.
   Jeremiah says to you, "Stand, and see, and ask." I take these words to
   be a call to thought and consideration. They are as though the prophet
   said, "Stop and think. Stand still, pause, and reflect. Look within,
   behind, and before. Do nothing rashly. What are you doing? Where are
   you going? What will be the end and consequence of your present line of
   action? Stop and think."

   Now to set men thinking is one great object which every teacher of
   religion should always keep before him. Serious thought, in short, is
   one of the first steps toward heaven. "I thought on my ways," says the
   Psalmist, "and turned my feet unto Thy testimonies" (Ps. 119:59). The
   prodigal son in the parable "came to himself" before he came to his
   father. He began to consider quietly the folly and uselessness of his
   conduct, and then, and not till then, he returned home, saying,
   "Father, I have sinned" (Luke 15:18). Want of thought is, in truth, the
   simple cause why many make shipwreck for ever. There are but few, I
   suspect, who deliberately and calmly choose evil, refuse good, turn
   their back on God, and resolve to serve sin as sin. The most part are
   what they are because they began their present course without thought.
   They would not take the trouble to look forward and consider the
   consequence of their conduct. By thoughtless actions they created
   habits which have become second nature to them. They have got into a
   groove now, and nothing but a special miracle of grace will stop them.
   That is a solemn charge which Isaiah brings against Israel: "My people
   doth not consider" (Isa. 1:3). "I never gave it a thought," is the sad
   excuse which I have heard many a man or woman in the lower classes make
   for sin. The words of Hosea are strictly true of thousands: "They
   consider not in their hearts" (Hos. 7:2).

   There are none, we must all be aware, who bring themselves into so much
   trouble by want of thinking as the young. From natural high spirits and
   ignorance of the world, they are always tempted to look only at the
   present and forget the future. Too often they marry in haste and repent
   at leisure, and lay up misery for life by wedding an uncongenial
   partner. Too often they choose in haste a wrong profession or business,
   and find, after two or three years, that they have made an
   irretrievable mistake, and, if I may borrow a railway phrase, have got
   on the wrong line of rails. Esau thought only of present gratification,
   and sold his birthright for a mess of pottage. Dinah must needs go "to
   see the daughters of the land," thinking no harm, and ends by losing
   her own character, and bringing trouble on her father's house (Gen.
   34:1-31). Lot thought only of the present advantage of settling in the
   well-watered valley around Sodom, and forgot the consequence of being
   mingled with a people who were "sinners before God exceedingly" (Gen.
   13:13). All these found to their cost the folly of not considering,
   looking forward, and thinking. They sowed to the flesh, and they reaped
   a harvest of sorrow and disappointment, because they did not "stand and
   see."

   These, no doubt, are ancient things. Every middle-aged person can shake
   his head over the foolishness of young people, and tell us mournfully
   that you "cannot put old heads on young shoulders." But the young are
   not the only persons who need the exhortation of the text in this day.
   It is pre-eminently advice for the times. Hurry is the characteristic
   of the age in which we live. Railways, and electric telegraphs, and
   general competition, appear to oblige modem Englishmen to live in a
   constant breathless whirl. On every side you see the many "driving
   furiously," like Jehu, after business or politics. They seem unable to
   find time for calm, quiet, serious reflection about their souls and a
   world to come. They have no abstract objection to the doctrines of
   Christianity, or to the use of means of grace, the Bible, or private
   prayer. But, alas, they cannot make leisure for them! They live in a
   perpetual hurry, and in a hurry they too often die. If ever there was
   an age in England when Jeremiah's advice was needed, it is now. If the
   prophet could rise from the dead, I believe he would cry aloud to the
   men of the nineteenth century, "Stop, and think,--look forward,--stand,
   and see."

   Let me, as Christ's minister, impress on all into whose hands these
   pages may fall, the absolute necessity of resisting the current of the
   age,--the absolute necessity of making time for your souls. The
   restless, high-pressure hurry in which men live endangers the very
   foundations of personal religion. Daily private prayer and daily
   Bible-reading are too often jostled into a corner, and hastily slurred
   over. Body and mind are wearied out, when Sunday arrives, by the
   intense struggle of week-day life. Church services are listlessly
   attended, and sometimes neglected altogether. The temptation to idle
   away God's day, or to spend it in visiting or dining out, becomes
   almost irresistible. Little by little the soul gets into a languid and
   relaxed condition, and the fine edge of conscience becomes blunt and
   dull. And why? Simply because in the incessant hurry of business and
   politics men never find time to think. They are not wilfully and of
   purpose irreligious; but they give themselves no leisure to stand still
   and take stock of the state of their souls. Even at the end of last
   century William Wilberforce made this sorrowful remark about Mr. Pitt,
   "He was so absorbed in politics, that he had never given himself time
   for reflection on religion" (Life of Wilberforce, p. 41. Edition,
   1872).

   I ask every reader of this paper to consider his ways. Beware of the
   infection of the times. Remember the old Spanish proverb, "Hurry comes
   from the devil." Resolve by the grace of God, if you love life, that
   you will have regular seasons for examining yourself, and looking over
   the accounts of your soul. "Stand, and see" where you are going, and
   how matters stand between you and God. Beware of perpetual hurried
   prayers, hurried Bible-reading, hurried church-going, hurried
   communions. Commune at least once a week with thine own heart, and be
   still. Cotton, and coal, and iron, and corn, and ships, and stocks, and
   land, and gold, and Liberalism, and Conservatism, are not the only
   things for which we were sent into the world. Death, and judgment, and
   eternity are not fancies, but stern realities. Make time to think about
   them. Stand still, and look them in the face. You will be obliged one
   day to make time to die, whether you are prepared or not. The last
   enemy, when he knocks at your door, will brook no delay, and will not
   wait for a "convenient season." He must be admitted, and you will have
   to go. Happy is he who, when the roar of business and politics is dying
   away on his ear, and the unseen world is looming large, can say, "I
   know whom I have believed: I have often stood and communed with Him by
   faith; and now I go to see as I have been seen."

   II. From the general advice which Jeremiah gives in our text, I shall
   now pass on to the particular direction which the Lord commands him to
   address to the men of his generation. If they were really willing to
   listen to his counsel to "stand, and see," and consider their ways,
   then he bids them "ask for the old paths."

   Now what did Jeremiah mean when he spoke of the "old paths"? I find no
   difficulty in answering that question. I feel no doubt that the phrase
   meant the old paths of faith in which the fathers of Israel had walked
   for 1300 years,--the paths of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,--the paths of
   Moses, and Joshua, and Samuel,--the paths of David, and Solomon, and
   Hezekiah, and Jehoshaphat,--the paths in which the rule of life was the
   Decalogue, and the rule of worship was that elaborate, typical,
   sacrificial system of which the essence was faith in the coming
   Redeemer. That this was the standard around which the men of Jeremiah's
   day were summoned to rally I shall never hesitate to maintain. Fallen
   and low as the spiritual condition of Israel often was, between the
   first of the Judges and the last of the Kings, I fail to see any proof
   that the Ten Commandments and the law of sacrifice were ever dethroned
   and repealed. On the contrary, I believe they were honoured and revered
   by every Jew who was "an Israelite indeed." In the darkest days of the
   Kings, I believe there were always a few who mourned secretly over the
   corrupt state of the nation, and, like Simeon and Anna, kept the faith
   and longed for better times. In a general return to the "old paths,"
   and nothing short of the "old paths," Jeremiah declared, was the only
   prospect of hope for the future of his countrymen.

   But is the principle laid down by Jeremiah a principle which applied to
   his times alone? Nothing of the kind! I am firmly persuaded that one
   chief medicine for the spiritual diseases of the nineteenth century is
   a bold and unhesitating inquiry for "old paths," old doctrines, and the
   faith of the days that are past. Error, no doubt, is often very
   ancient, yet truth is always old. Men's hearts are just what they were
   6000 years ago, and need the same remedy. God in that long period has
   used several dispensations, and each succeeding age has enjoyed more
   light. But the foundation truths have always been the same, and the way
   by which sinners have reached heaven has always been one and the same.
   I say boldly that the age wants nothing new. What it wants is plain,
   distinct, unflinching teaching about "the old paths." Give me no modern
   road of man's invention. Show me where patriarchs, and prophets, and
   Apostles, and Fathers, and Reformers set down their feet, obtained a
   good report, and made a mark on the world. "The old path is the good
   way."

   We want throughout Christendom a return to the old paths of the early
   Christians. The first followers of the Apostles, no doubt, were, like
   their teachers, "unlearned and ignorant men." They had no printed
   books. They had short creeds, and very simple forms of worship. I doubt
   much if they could have stood an examination in the Thirty-nine
   Articles, or the Creed of Athanasius, or even in the Church Catechism.
   But what they knew they knew thoroughly, believed intensely, and
   propagated unhesitatingly, with a burning enthusiasm. They grasped with
   both hands, and not with finger and thumb, the Personality, the Deity,
   the offices, the mediation, the atoning work, the free and full grace
   of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the inseparable necessity of repentance,
   faith, and a Christlike life of holiness, self-denial, and charity. On
   these truths they lived, and for them they were ready to die. Armed
   with these truths, without gold to bribe or the sword to compel assent,
   they turned the world upside down, confounded the Greek and Roman
   philosophers, and altered in two or three centuries the whole face of
   Society. Can we mend these "old paths"? Can we improve them after
   eighteen centuries? Does human nature require any different medicine? I
   believe the bones of the oldest human skeleton that ever was unearthed
   are just like the bones of men in these days, and I believe the moral
   nature and hearts of men, after the lapse of ages, are just the same.
   We had better ask for the "old paths."

   We want throughout the Church of England a return to the old paths of
   our Protestant Reformers. I grant they were rough workmen, and made
   some mistakes. They worked under immense difficulties, and deserve
   tender judgment and fair consideration. But they revived out of the
   dust grand foundation truths which had been long buried and forgotten.
   They brought into just prominence such cardinal verities as the
   sufficiency and supremacy of Scripture, the right and duty of private
   judgment, and free justification by faith without the deeds of the law,
   and without any ordained man or any ceremony interposing between the
   soul and the Saviour. By embalming those truths in our Articles and
   Liturgy, by incessantly pressing them on the attention of our
   forefathers, they changed the whole character of this nation, and
   raised a standard of true doctrine and practice, which, after three
   centuries, is a power in the land, and has an insensible influence on
   English character to this very day. Can we mend these "old paths "?
   Shall we improve them either by going back behind the Reformation and
   increasing the ceremonials of religion on the one hand, or by adopting
   lower views of inspiration and the atonement on the other? I doubt it
   entirely. I believe the men of 300 years ago understood the real wants
   of human nature better than many do in 1882.

   Of course I am well aware that the "old paths" for which I have been
   pleading are not popular in some quarters at this day. In fact, the
   views I have just propounded are in direct antagonism to much of the
   so-caned wisdom of these times. "Effete systems," "old-world creeds,"
   "fossil theology," "exploded theories," "worn-out doctrines,"
   "old-fashioned divinity," and the like phrases,--who does not know the
   heavy fire of such language which is continually poured on the "old
   paths" of faith in some organs of public opinion, and from some pulpits
   and platforms? Novelty is the idol of the day. Free handling,
   enlightened views, rational interpretation, science (so called) before
   the Bible, these are the guiding principles of many in this age. Tell
   them that any religious idea is old, and they seem to think it is
   probably false! Tell them that it is new, and it is probably true!

   But I have yet to learn that all new views of religion are necessarily
   better than the old. It is not so in the work of men's hands. I doubt
   if this nineteenth century can produce an architect who could design
   better buildings than the Parthenon or Coliseum, or a mason who could
   rear fabrics which will last so long. It certainly is not so in the
   work of men's minds. Thucydides is not superseded by Macaulay, nor
   Homer by Milton. Why, then, are we to suppose that old theology is
   necessarily inferior to new?

   For, after all, when modern scoffers at "old paths" and worn-out creeds
   have said their say, there remain some stern facts which can never be
   explained away, and some questions which can only receive one answer. I
   ask boldly, What extensive good has ever been done in the world, except
   by the theology of the "old paths"? and I confidently challenge a
   reply, because I know that none can be given. I affirm, unhesitatingly,
   that there never has been any spread of the gospel, any conversion of
   nations or countries, any successful evangelistic work, excepting by
   the old-fashioned distinct doctrines of the early Christians and the
   Reformers. I invite any opponent of dogmatic theology to name a single
   instance of a country, or town, or people, which has ever been
   Christianized by merely telling men that "Christ was a great moral
   Teacher,--that they must love one another, that they must be true, and
   just, and unselfish, and generous, and brotherly, and high-souled," and
   the like. No! no! no! Not one single victory can such teaching show us:
   not one trophy can such teaching exhibit. It has wrought no deliverance
   on the earth. The victories of Christianity, wherever they have been
   won, have been won by distinct doctrinal theology; by telling men of
   Christ's vicarious death and sacrifice; by showing them Christ's
   substitution on the cross, and His precious blood; by teaching them
   justification by faith, and bidding them believe on a crucified
   Saviour; by preaching ruin by sin, redemption by Christ, regeneration
   by the Spirit; by lifting up the brazen serpent; by telling men to look
   and live,--to believe, repent, and be converted. These are the "old
   paths." This, this is the only teaching which for eighteen centuries
   God has honoured with success, and is honouring at the present day both
   at home and abroad: Let the teachers of a broad and undogmatic
   theology,--or the preachers of the gospel of earnestness, and
   sincerity, and cold morality, m or the advocates of a ceremonial,
   sensuous, histrionic, Sacramentarian Christianity,--let them, I say,
   show us at this day any English village, or parish, or city, or
   district, which has been evangelized, without the distinct doctrinal
   teaching of the "old paths." They cannot do it, and they never will.
   There is no getting over facts. The good that is done in the earth may
   be comparatively small. Evil may abound, and ignorant impatience may
   murmur and cry out that Christianity has failed. But, we may depend on
   it, if we want to do good and shake the world, we must fight with the
   old apostolic weapons, and stick to the "old paths."

   Does any reader doubt the truth of what I am saying, and think I am
   going too far? I ask him to listen for a moment to the two following
   arguments, and overthrow them if he can.

   For one thing, I bid him turn to the lives of all the most eminent
   saints who have adorned the Church of Christ since its great Head left
   the world, and summon them as witnesses. I will not weary my readers
   with long lists of names, for happily they are legion. Let us examine
   the holiest Fathers, and Schoolmen, and Reformers, and Puritans, and
   Anglicans, and Dissenters, and Churchmen of every school, and
   Christians generally of every name, and nation, and people, and tongue.
   Let us search their diaries, analyze their biographies, and study their
   letters. Let us just see what manner of men they have been in every
   age, who, by the consent of all their contemporaries, have been really
   holy, and saintly, and good. Where will you find one of them who did
   not cling to the "old paths" of simple faith in the atonement and
   sacrificial work of Christ? who did not hold certain great distinct
   doctrinal views, and live in the belief of them? I am satisfied you
   will not find one! In their clearness of perception and degree of
   spiritual light, in the proportion they have assigned to particular
   articles of faith, they may have differed widely. In their mode of
   expressing their theological opinions they may not have agreed. But
   they have always had one common stamp and mark. They have not been
   content with vague ideas of "earnestness, and goodness, and sincerity,
   and charity." They have had certain systematic, sharply-cut, and
   positive views of truth. They have known whom they believed, and what
   they believed, and why they believed. And so it always will be. You
   will never have Christian fruits without Christian roots, whatever
   novel-writers may say; you will never have eminent holiness without the
   "old paths" of dog-matic theology.

   For another thing, I bid him turn to the death-beds of all who die with
   solid comfort and good hope, and appeal to them. There are few of us
   who are not called on occasionally, as we travel through life, to see
   people passing through the valley of the shadow of death, and drawing
   near to their latter end, and to those "things unseen which are
   eternal." We all of us know what a vast difference there is in the
   manner in which such people leave the world, and the amount of comfort
   and hope which they seem to feel. Can any of us say that he ever saw a
   person die in peace who did not know distinctly what he was resting on
   for acceptance with God, and could only say, in reply to inquiries,
   that he was "earnest and sincere"? I can only give my own experience: I
   never saw one. Oh, no! The story of Christ's moral teaching, and
   self-sacrifice, and example, and the need of being earnest, and
   sincere, and like Him, will never smooth down a dying pillow. Christ
   the Teacher, Christ the great Pattern, Christ the Prophet, will not
   suffice. We want something more than this! We want the old, old story
   of Christ dying for our sins, and rising again for our justification.
   We want Christ the Mediator, Christ the Substitute, Christ the
   Intercessor, Christ the Redeemer, in order to meet with confidence the
   King of Terrors, and to say, "Oh death, where is thy sting? Oh grave,
   where is thy victory?" Not a few, I believe, who have gloried all their
   lives in rejecting dogmatic religion, have discovered at last that
   their "broad theology" is a miserable comforter, and the gospel of mere
   "earnestness" is no good news at all Not a few, I firmly believe, could
   be named, who at the eleventh hour have cast aside their favourite,
   new-fashioned views, have fled for refuge to the "old paths" and the
   precious blood, and left the world with no other hope than the
   old-fashioned Evangelical doctrine of faith in a crucified Jesus.
   Nothing in their life's religion has given them such peace as the
   simple truth grasped at the eleventh hour,--

   "Just as I am: without one plea,
   But that Thy blood was shed for me,
   And that Thou bidst me come to Thee--
   O Lamb of God, I come."

   Surely, when this is the case, we have no need to be ashamed of the
   "old paths," and of walking therein.

   I ask every reader of this paper to respect the logic of facts. Give
   the direction of Jeremiah the attention it deserves. If you once begin
   to think seriously about your soul, never be ashamed of asking for "the
   old paths," and walking in them. Yes! do not merely look at them and
   talk of them, but actually walk in them. Let no scorn of the world, let
   no ridicule of smart writers, let no sneer of liberal critics, shake
   your confidence in those paths. Only try them, and you will find they
   are the good way, "a way of pleasantness and peace."

   III. From Jeremiah's general advice and special directions let me now
   turn to the precious promise with which our text concludes. "Walk in
   the old paths," saith the Lord, "and ye shall find rest to your souls."

   I cannot doubt that our Lord Jesus Christ had these words of the
   prophet in His mind, when He proclaimed that glorious invitation which
   is so wisely quoted in our Communion Service: "Come unto Me, all ye
   that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt.
   11:28). One thing, at any rate, is quite certain. Whether under the Old
   Testament or the New, nothing could be held out to man more suitable to
   his spiritual wants than "rest." Walk in the "old paths," is the
   promise, and you shall have "rest."

   Let it never, never be forgotten that rest of conscience is the secret
   want of a vast portion of mankind. Sin and the sense of guilt are the
   root of all the heart-weariness in the world. Men are not at ease,
   because they are not at peace with God. Men often feel their
   sinfulness, though they know not what the feeling really means. They
   only know there is something wrong within, but they do not understand
   the cause. "Who will show us any good?" is the universal cry. But there
   is universal ignorance of the disease from which the cry springs. The
   "labouring and heavy-laden" are everywhere: they are a multitude that
   man can scarcely number; they are to be found in every climate, and in
   every country under the sun.

   To what class do the labouring and heavy-laden belong? They belong to
   every class: there is no exception. They are to be found among masters
   as well as among servants, among rich as well as among poor, among
   kings as well as among subjects,--among learned as well as among
   ignorant people. In every class you will find trouble, care, sorrow,
   anxiety, murmuring, discontent, and unrest. What does it mean? What
   does it all come to? Men are "labouring and heavy-laden," and want
   rest.

   Now, rest for the labouring and heavy-laden is one of the chief
   promises which the Word of God offers to man, both in the Old Testament
   and the New. "Come to me," says the world, "and I will give you riches
   and pleasure." "Come with me," says the devil, "and I will give you
   greatness, power, and wisdom." " Come unto Me," says the Lord Jesus
   Christ, "and I will give you rest." "Walk in the old paths," says the
   prophet Jeremiah, "and you shall find rest for your souls."

   But what is the nature of that rest which the Lord Jesus promises to
   give? It is no mere repose of body.

   A man may have that, and yet be miserable. You may place him in a
   palace, and surround him with every possible comfort; you may give him
   money in abundance, and everything that money can buy; you may free him
   from all care about to-morrow's bodily wants, and take away the need of
   labouring for a single hour: all this you may do to a man, and yet not
   give him true rest. Thousands know this only too well by bitter
   experience. Their hearts are starving in the midst of worldly plenty;
   their inward man is sick and weary, while their outward man is clothed
   in purple and fine linen, and fares sumptuously every day! Yes: a man
   may have houses, and lands, and money, and horses, and carriages, and
   soft beds, and good fare, and attentive servant.% and yet not have true
   "rest."

   The rest that Christ gives in the "old paths" is an inward thing. It is
   rest of heart, rest of conscience, rest of mind, rest of affection,
   rest of will. It is rest from a comfortable sense of sins being all
   forgiven, and guilt all put away. It is rest from a solid hope of good
   things to come, laid up beyond the reach of disease, and death, and the
   grave. It is rest from the well-grounded feeling, that the great
   business of life is settled, its great end provided for, that in time
   all is well done, and in eternity heaven will be our home.

   Rest such as this the Lord Jesus gives to those who come to Him in the
   "old paths," by showing them His own finished work on the cross, by
   clothing them in His own perfect righteousness, and washing them in His
   own precious blood. When a man begins to see that the Son of God
   actually died for his sins, his soul begins to taste something of
   inward quiet and peace.

   Rest such as this the Lord Jesus gives to those who come to Him in the
   "old paths," by revealing Himself as their ever-living High Priest in
   heaven, and God reconciled to them through Him. When a man beans to see
   that the Son of God actually lives at the right hand of the Father to
   intercede for him, he will begin to feel something of inward quiet and
   peace.

   Rest such as this the Lord Jesus gives to those who come to Him in the
   "old paths," by implanting His Spirit in their hearts, witnessing with
   their spirits that they are God's children, and that old things are
   passed away, and all things are become new. When a man begins to feel
   an inward drawing towards God as a Father, and a sense of being an
   adopted and forgiven child, his soul begins to feel something of quiet
   and peace.

   Rest such as this the Lord Jesus gives to those who come to Him in the
   "old paths," by dwelling in their hearts as King, by putting all things
   within in order, and giving to each faculty its place and work. When a
   man begins to find order in his heart in place of rebellion and
   confusion, his soul begins to understand something of quiet and peace.
   There is no true inward happiness until the true King is on the throne.

   Rest such as this is the privilege of all believers in Christ. Some
   know more of it, and some less; some feel it only at distant intervals,
   and some feel it almost always. Few enjoy the sense of it without many
   a battle with unbelief, and many a conflict with fear: but all who
   truly come to Christ know something of this rest. Ask them, with all
   their complaints and doubts, whether they would give up Christ and go
   back to the world. You will get only one answer. Weak as their sense of
   rest may be, they have got hold of something which does them good, and
   that something they cannot let go.

   Rest such as this is within reach of all who are willing to seek it and
   receive it. The poor man is not so poor but he may have it; the
   ignorant man is not so ignorant but he may know it; the sick man is not
   so weak and helpless but he may get hold of it. Faith, simple faith, is
   the one thing needful in order to possess Christ's rest. Faith in
   Christ is the grand secret of happiness. Neither poverty, nor
   ignorance, nor tribulation, nor distress can prevent men and women
   feeling rest of soul, if they will only come to Christ and believe.

   Rest such as this is the possession which makes men independent. Banks
   may break, and money make itself wings and flee away. War, pestilence,
   and famine may break in on a land, and the foundations of the earth be
   out of course. Health and vigour may depart, and the body be crushed
   down by loathsome disease. Death may cut down wife, and children, and
   friends, until he who once enjoyed them stands entirely alone. But the
   man who has come to Christ by faith will still possess some thing which
   can never be taken from him. Like Paul and Silas, he will sing in
   prison; like Job, bereaved of children and property, he will bless the
   name of the Lord. He is the truly independent man who possesses that
   which nothing can take away.

   Rest such as this is the possession which makes men truly rich. It
   lasts; it wears; it endures; it lightens the solitary home; it smoothes
   down the dying pillow; it goes with men when they are placed in their
   coffins; it abides with them when they are laid in their graves. When
   friends can no longer help us, and money is no longer of use,--when
   doctors can no longer relieve our pain, and nurses can no longer
   minister to our wants, when sense begins to fail, and eye and ear can
   no longer do their duty, then, even then, the "rest" which Christ gives
   in the "old paths" will be shed abroad in the heart of the believer.
   The words "rich" and "poor" will change their meaning entirely one day.
   He is the only rich man who has come to Christ by faith, and from
   Christ has received rest.

   This is the rest which Jeremiah was commissioned to proclaim. This is
   the rest which Christ offers to give to all who are labouring and
   heavy-laden; this is the rest for which He invites them to come to Him;
   this is the rest which I want all who read this paper to enjoy, and to
   which I bring an invitation this day. May God grant that the invitation
   may not be brought in vain!

   (a) And now, before we part, let me ask if there is any reader who is
   inwardly desiring rest of soul, and yet knows not where to turn for it?
   Remember this day, that there is only one place where rest can be
   found. Governments cannot give it; education will not impart it;
   worldly amusements cannot supply it; money will not purchase it. It can
   only be found in the hand of Jesus Christ; and to His hand you must
   turn if you would find peace within.

   There is no royal road to rest of soul. Let that never be forgotten.
   There is only one way to the Father,--Jesus Christ; one door into
   heaven,--Jesus Christ; and one path to heart-peace and rest,--Jesus
   Christ. By that way all labouring and heavy-laden ones must go,
   whatever be their rank or condition. Kings in their palaces, and
   paupers in the workhouse, are all on a level in this matter. All alike
   must walk in the "old paths," and come to Christ, if they feel
   soul-weary and athirst. All must drink of the same fountain, if they
   would have their thirst relieved.

   You may not believe what I am now saying. Time will show who is right
   and who is wrong. Go on, if you will, imagining that true happiness is
   to be found in the good things of this world. Seek it, if you will, in
   revelling and banqueting, in dancing and merry-making, in races and
   theatres, in field sports and cams. Seek it, if you will, in reading
   and scientific pursuits, in music and painting, in politics and
   business. Seek it in a round of religious formalities,--in a
   perfunctory obedience to the requirements of a ceremonial Christianity.
   Seek it; but you will never overtake it, unless you change your plan.
   Real heart-rest is never to be found except in the "old paths," in
   heart-union with Jesus Christ.

   The Princess Elizabeth, daughter of Charles I., lies buried in Newport
   Church, in the Isle of Wight. A marble monument, erected by our
   gracious Queen Victoria, records in a touching way the manner of her
   death. She languished in Carisbrook Castle during the unhappy
   Commonwealth wars, a prisoner, alone, and separate from all the
   companions of her youth, until death set her free. She was found dead
   one day with her head leaning on her Bible, and the Bible open at the
   words, "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I
   will give you rest." The monument in Newport Church records this fact.
   It. consists of a female figure reclining her head on a marble book,
   with the text already quoted engraven on the book. Think what a sermon
   in stone that monument preaches! Think what a standing memorial it
   affords of the utter inability of rank and high birth to confer certain
   happiness! Think what a testimony it bears to the lesson before you
   this day,--the mighty lesson that there is no true "rest" for any one
   excepting in Christ! Happy will it be for your soul if that lesson is
   never forgotten!

   (b) But who is there among the readers of this paper that has walked in
   the "old paths," and found the rest which Christ gives? Who is there
   that has tasted true peace by coming to Him, and casting his soul on
   Him? Let me entreat you never to leave the "old paths," and never to be
   tempted to think there is a better way. Stand fast in the liberty
   wherewith Christ has made you free. Turn not aside to right or left. Go
   on to the end of your days as you have begun, looking to Jesus and
   living on Him. Go on drawing daily full supplies of rest, peace, mercy,
   and grace from the great fountain of rest and peace. Remember, that if
   you live to the age of Methuselah, you will never be anything but a
   poor empty sinner, owing all you have and hope for to Christ alone.

   Never be ashamed of living the life of faith in Christ. The "old paths"
   will bear thinking of to all eternity. The way of the world is a way
   which will not bear calm reflection now, and of which the end is shame
   and remorse. Men may ridicule and mock you, and even silence you in
   argument; but they can never take from you the feelings which faith in
   Christ gives. They can never prevent you feeling, "I was weary till I
   found Christ, but now I have rest of conscience. I was blind, but now I
   see. I was dead, but I am alive again. I was lost, but I am found."

   Last, but not least, look forward with confidence to a better rest in a
   world to come. Yet a little time, and He that shall come will come, and
   will not tarry. He will gather together all who have believed in Him,
   and take His people to a home where the wicked shall cease from
   troubling, and the weary shall be at perfect rest. He shall give them a
   glorious body, in which they shall serve Him without distraction, and
   praise Him without weariness. He shall wipe away tears from all faces,
   and make all things new (Isa. 25:8).

   There is a good time coming for all who have come to Christ in the "old
   paths," and committed their souls into His keeping. They will remember
   all the way by which they have been led, and see the wisdom of every
   step in the way. They will wonder that they ever doubted the kindness
   and love of their Shepherd. Above all, they will wonder that they could
   live so long without Him, and that when they heard of Him they could
   hesitate about coming to Him.

   There is a pass in Scotland called Glencroe, which supplies a beautiful
   illustration of what heaven will be to the man who comes to Christ. The
   road through Gleneroe carries the traveller up a long and steep ascent,
   with many a little winding and many a little turn in its course. But
   when the top of the pass is reached, a stone is seen by the wayside,
   with these simple words engraven on it, "Rest, and be thankful." Those
   words describe the feelings with which every one who comes to Christ
   will at length enter heaven. The summit of the narrow way will be won:
   we shall cease from our weary journeying, and sit down in the kingdom
   of God. We shall look back over all the way of life with thankfulness,
   and see the perfect wisdom of every little winding and turn in the
   steep ascent by which we were led. We shall forget the toils of the
   upward journey in the glorious rest. Here in this world our sense of
   rest in Christ at best is feeble and partial; but "when that which is
   perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away." Thanks be
   unto God, a day is coming when the end of the "old path" will be
   reached, and believers shall rest perfectly, and be thankful!
     __________________________________________________________________

   [5] The substance of this paper was originally preached in a sermon in
   the Chapel Royal, Whitehall, in the year 1883.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VI
  Acts 17:26.
  "ONE BLOOD."

   [6]

   THIS is a very short and simple text, and even a child knows the
   meaning of its words. But simple as it is, it supplies food for much
   thought, and it forms part of a speech delivered by a great man on a
   great occasion.

   The speaker is the Apostle of the Gentiles, St. Paul. The hearers are
   the cultivated men of Athens, and specially the Epicurean and Stoic
   philosophers. The place is Mars' Hill at Athens, in full view of
   religious buildings and statues, of which even the shattered remains
   are a marvel of art at this day. Never perhaps were such a place, such
   a man, and such an audience brought together! It was a strange scene.
   And how did St. Paul use the occasion? What did this Jewish stranger,
   this member of a despised nation, coming from an obscure corner of
   Asia, this little man whose "bodily presence was weak," and very unlike
   the ideal figure in one of Raphael's cartoons, what does he say to
   these intellectual Greeks?

   He tells them boldly the unity of the true God. There is only one God,
   the maker of heaven and earth, and not many deities, as his hearers
   seem to think, a God who needed no temples made with hands, and was not
   to be represented by images made of wood or metal or stone.

   Standing in front of the stately Parthenon and the splendid statue of
   Minerva, he sets before his refined hearers the ignorance with which
   they worshipped, the folly of idolatry, the coming judgment of all
   mankind, the certainty of a resurrection, and the absolute need of
   repentance. And not least, he tells the proud men of Athens that they
   must not flatter themselves that they were superior beings, as they
   vainly supposed, made of finer clay, and needing less than other races
   of men. No! he declares that "God has made of one blood all nations."
   There is no difference. The nature, the needs, the obligation to God of
   all human beings on the globe are one and the same.

   I shall stick to that expression "one blood," and confine myself
   entirely to it. I see in it three great points,--

   1. A point of fact;

   2. A point of doctrine;

   3. A point of duty.

   Let me try to unfold them.

   I. In the first place comes the point of fact. We are all made "of one
   blood." Then the Bible account of the origin of man is true. The Book
   of Genesis is right. The whole family of mankind, with all its thousand
   millions, has descended from one pair--from Adam and Eve.

   This is a humbling fact, no doubt; but it is true. Kings and their
   subjects, rich and poor, learned and unlearned, prince and pauper, the
   educated Englishman and the untutored negro, the fashionable lady at
   the West End of London and the North American squaw,--all, all might
   trace their pedigree, if they could trace it through sixty centuries,
   to one man and one woman. No doubt in the vast period of six thousand
   years immense varieties of races have gradually been developed. Hot
   climates and cold climates have affected the colour and physical
   peculiarities of nations. Civilization and culture have produced their
   effect on the habits, demeanour, and mental attainments of the
   inhabitants of different parts of the globe. Some of Adam's children in
   the lapse of time have been greatly degraded, and some have been raised
   and improved. But the great fact remains the same. The story written by
   Moses is true. All the dwellers in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America
   originally sprang from Adam and Eve. We were all "made of one blood."

   Now why do I dwell on all this? I do it because I wish to impress on
   the minds of my readers the plenary inspiration and divine authority of
   the Book of Genesis. I want you to hold fast the old teaching about the
   origin of man, and to refuse steadily to let it go.

   I need hardly remind you that you live in a day of abounding scepticism
   and unbelief. Clever writers and lecturers are continually pouring
   contempt on the Old Testament Scriptures, and especially on the Book of
   Genesis. The contents of that venerable document, we are frequently
   told, are not to be read as real historical facts, but as fictions and
   fables. We are not to suppose that Adam and Eve were the only man and
   woman originally created, and that all mankind sprang from one pair. We
   are rather to believe that different races of human beings have been
   called into existence in different parts of the globe, at different
   times, without any relationship to one another. In short, we are coolly
   informed that the narratives in the first half of Genesis are only
   pleasing Oriental romances, and are not realities at all! Now, when you
   hear such talk as this, I charge you not to be moved or shaken for a
   moment. Stand fast in the old paths of the faith, and especially about
   the origin of man. There is abundant evidence that Moses is right, and
   those who impugn his veracity and credibility are wrong. We are all
   descended from one fallen father. We are "all of one blood."

   It would be easy to show, if the limits of this paper permitted, that
   the oldest traditions of nations all over the globe confirm the account
   given by Moses in the most striking manner. Geikie, in his Hours with
   the Bible, has briefly shown that the story of the first pair, the
   serpent, the fall, the flood, and the ark are found cropping up in one
   form or another in almost every part of the habitable world. But the
   strongest proof of our common origin is to be found in the painful
   uniformity of man's moral nature, whatever be the colour of his skin.
   Go where you will on the globe, and observe what men and women are
   everywhere. Go to the heart of Africa or China, or to the remotest
   island of the Pacific Ocean, and mark the result of your
   investigations. I boldly assert that everywhere, and in every climate,
   you will find the moral nature of the human race exactly the same.
   Everywhere you will find men and women are naturally wicked, corrupt,
   selfish, proud, lazy, deceitful, godless,-- servants of lusts and
   passions. And I contend that nothing can reasonably account for this
   but the first three chapters of Genesis. We are what we are morally,
   because we have sprung from one parent, and partake of his nature. We
   are all descendants of one fallen Adam, and in Adam we all died. Moses
   is right. We are all of" one blood."

   After all, if doubt remains in any man's mind, and he cannot quite
   believe the narratives of Genesis, I ask him to remember what a deadly
   blow his unbelief strikes at the authority of the New Testament. It is
   easy work to point out difficulties in the first book of the Bible; but
   it is not easy to explain away the repeated endorsement which Genesis
   receives from Christ and the Apostles. There is no getting over the
   broad fact that creation, the serpent, the fall, Cain and Abel, Enoch,
   Noah, the flood, the ark, Abraham, Lot, Sodom and Gomorrah, Isaac,
   Jacob, Esau, are all mentioned in the New Testament as historical
   things or historical persons. What shall we say to this fact? Were
   Christ and the Apostles deceived and ignorant? The idea is absurd. Did
   they dishonestly accommodate themselves to the popular views of their
   hearers, in order to procure favour with them, knowing all the time
   that the things and persons they spoke of were fictitious, and not
   historical at all? The very idea is wicked and profane. We are shut up
   to one conclusion, and I see no alternative. If you give up the Old
   Testament, you must give up the New also. There is no standing-ground
   between disbelief of the supernatural narratives of Genesis and
   disbelief of the gospel. If you cannot believe Moses, you ought not to
   trust Christ and the Apostles, who certainly did believe him. Are you
   really wiser than the Lord Jesus Christ or St. Paul? Do you know better
   than they? Cast such notions behind your back. Stand firm on the old
   foundation, and be not carried away by modern theories. And as a great
   cornerstone, place beneath your feet the fact of our text, the common
   origin of all mankind. "We are all made of one blood."

   II. From the point of fact in our text I now pass on to the point of
   doctrine. Are we all of "one blood "? Then we all need one and the same
   remedy for the great family disease of our souls. The disease I speak
   of is sin. We inherit it from our parents, and it is a part of our
   nature. We are born with it, whether gentle or simple, learned or
   unlearned, rich or poor, as children of fallen Adam, with his blood in
   our veins. It is a disease which grows with our growth and strengthens
   with our strength, and unless cured before we die, will be the death of
   our souls.

   Now, what is the only remedy for this terrible spiritual disease? What
   will cleanse us from the guilt of sin? What will bring health and peace
   to our poor dead hearts, and enable us to walk with God while we live,
   and dwell with God when we die? To these questions I give a short but
   unhesitating reply. For the one universal soul-disease of all Adam's
   children there is only one remedy. That remedy is "the precious blood
   of Christ." To the blood of Adam we owe the beginning of our deadly
   spiritual ailment. To the blood of Christ alone must we all look for a
   cure.

   When I speak of the "blood of Christ," my readers must distinctly
   understand that I do not mean the literal material blood which flowed
   from His hands and feet and side as He hung on the cross. That blood, I
   doubt not, stained the fingers of the soldiers who nailed our Lord to
   the tree; but there is not the slightest proof that it did any good to
   their souls. If that blood were really in the Communion cup at the
   Lord's Supper, as some profanely tell us, and we touched it with our
   lips, such mere corporeal touch would avail us nothing. Oh no! When I
   speak of the "blood" of Christ as the cure for the deadly ailment which
   we all inherit from the blood of Adam, I mean the life-blood which
   Christ shed, and the redemption which Christ obtained for sinners when
   He died for them on Calvary,--the salvation which He procured for us by
   His vicarious sacrifice,--the deliverance from the guilt and power and
   consequences of sin, which He purchased when He suffered as our
   Substitute. This and this only is what I mean when I speak of "Christ's
   blood" as the one medicine needed by all Adam's children. The thing
   that we all need to save us from eternal death is not merely Christ's
   incarnation and life, but Christ's death. The atoning "blood" which
   Christ shed when He died, is the grand secret of salvation. It is the
   blood of the second Adam suffering in our stead, which alone can give
   life or health and peace to all who have the first Adam's blood in
   their veins.

   I can find no words to express my deep sense of the importance of
   maintaining in our Church the true doctrine of the blood of Christ. One
   plague of our age is the widespread dislike to what men are pleased to
   call dogmatic theology. In the place of it, the idol of the day is a
   kind of jelly-fish Christianity,--a Christianity without bone, or
   muscle, or sinew, without any distinct teaching about the atonement or
   the work of the Spirit, or justification, or the way of peace with
   God,--a vague, foggy, misty Christianity, of which the only watchwords
   seem to be, "You must be earnest, and real, and true, and brave, and
   zealous, and liberal, and kind. You must condemn no man's doctrinal
   views. You must consider everybody is right, and nobody is wrong." And
   this Creedless kind of religion, we are actually told, is to give us
   peace of conscience! And not to be satisfied with it in a sorrowful,
   dying world, is a proof that you are very narrow-minded! Satisfied,
   indeed! Such a religion might possibly do for unfallen angels. But to
   tell sinful, dying men and women, with the blood of our father Adam in
   their veins, to be satisfied with it, is an insult to common sense, and
   a mockery of our distress. We need something far better than this. We
   need the blood of Christ.

   What saith the Scripture about "that blood"? Let me try to put my
   readers in remembrance. Do we want to be clean and guiltless now in the
   sight of God? It is written that "the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth
   from all sin; "--that "it justifies;" that "it makes us nigh to God; "
   that "through it there is redemption, even the forgiveness of sin;"
   that it "purges the conscience;" that "it makes peace between God and
   man;"--that it gives "boldness to enter into the holiest." Yes! it is
   expressly written of the saints in glory, that "they had washed their
   robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb," and that they had
   "overcome their souls' enemies by the blood of the Lamb" (1 John 1:7;
   Col. 1:20; Heb. 10:19; Eph. 1:7; Heb. 9:14; Eph. 2:13; Rom. 5:9; Rev.
   7:14). Why, in the name of common sense, if the Bible is our guide to
   heaven, why are we to refuse the teaching of the Bible about Christ's
   blood, and turn to other remedies for the great common soul-disease of
   mankind? If, besides this, the sacrifices of the Old Testament did not
   point to the sacrifice of Christ's death on the cross, they were
   useless, unmeaning forms, and the outer courts of tabernacle and temple
   were little better than shambles. But if, as I firmly believe, they
   were meant to lead the minds of Jews to the better sacrifice of the
   true Lamb of God, they afford unanswerable confirmation of the position
   which I maintain this day. That position is, that the one "blood of
   Christ" is the spiritual medicine for all who have the "one blood of
   Adam" in their veins.

   Does any reader of this paper want to do good in the world? I hope that
   many do. He is a poor style of Christian who does not wish to leave the
   world better, when he leaves it, than it was when he entered it. Take
   the advice I give you this day. Beware of being content with
   half-measures and inadequate remedies for the great spiritual disease
   of mankind. You will only labour in vain if you do not show men the
   blood of the Lamb. Like the fabled Sisyphus, however much you strive,
   you will find the stone ever rolling back upon you. Education,
   teetotalism, cleaner dwellings, popular concerts, blue ribbon leagues,
   white cross armies, penny readings, museums, all are very well in their
   way; but they only touch the surface of man's disease: they do not go
   to the root. They cast out the devil for a little season; but they do
   not fill his place, and prevent him coming back again. Nothing will do
   that but the story of the cross applied to the conscience by the Holy
   Ghost, and received and accepted by faith. Yes! it is the blood of
   Christ, not His example only, or His beautiful moral teaching, but His
   vicarious sacrifice that meets the wants of the soul. No wonder that
   St. Peter calls it "precious." Precious it has been found by the
   heathen abroad, and by the peer and the peasant at home. Precious it
   was found on a death-bed by the mighty theologian Bengel, by the
   unwearied labourer John Wesley, by the late Archbishop Longley, and
   Bishop Hamilton in our own days. May it ever be precious in our eyes!
   If we want to do good, we must make much of the blood of Christ. There
   is only one fountain that can cleanse any one's sin. That fountain is
   the blood of the Lamb.

   III. The third and last point which arises out of our text is a point
   of duty. Are we all of "one blood "? Then we ought to live as if we
   were. We ought to behave as members of one great family. We ought to
   "love as brethren." We ought to put away from us anger, wrath, malice,
   quarrelling, as specially hateful in the sight of God. We ought to
   cultivate kindness and charity towards all men. The dark-skinned
   African negro, the dirtiest dweller in some vile slum of London, has a
   claim upon our attention. He is a relative and a brother, whether we
   like to believe it or not. Like ourselves, he is a descendant of Adam
   and Eve, and inherits a fallen nature and a never-dying soul.

   Now what are we Christians doing to prove that we believe and realize
   all this? What are we doing for our brethren? I trust we do not forget
   that it was wicked Cain who asked that awful question, "Am I my
   brother's keeper?" (Gen. 4:9).

   What are we doing for the heathen abroad? That is a grave question, and
   one which I have no room to consider fully. I only remark that we do
   far less than we ought to do. The nation whose proud boast it is that
   her flag is to be seen in every port on the globe, gives less to the
   cause of foreign missions than the cost of a single first-class
   ironclad man-of-war.

   But what are we doing for the masses at home? That is a far graver
   question, and one which imperiously demands a reply. The heathen are
   out of sight and out of mind. The English masses are hard by our own
   doors, and their condition is a problem which politicians and
   philanthropists are anxiously trying to solve, and which cannot be
   evaded. What are we doing to lessen the growing sense of inequality
   between rich and poor, and to fill up the yawning gulf of discontent?
   Socialism, and communism, and confiscation of property are looming
   large in the distance, and occupying much attention in the press.
   Atheism and secularism are spreading fast in some quarters, and
   specially in overgrown and neglected parishes, Now what is the path of
   duty?

   I answer without hesitation, that we want a larger growth of brotherly
   love in the land. We want men and women to grasp the great principle,
   that we are all of" one blood," and to lay themselves out to do good.
   We want the rich to care more for the poor, and the employer for the
   employed, and wealthy congregations for the working-class congregations
   in the great cities, and the West End of London to care more for the
   East and the South. And, let us remember, it is not merely temporal
   relief that is wanted. The Roman emperors tried to keep the
   proletarians and the lower classes quiet by the games of the circus and
   largesses of corn. And some ignorant modern Britons seem to think that
   money, cheap food, good dwellings, and recreation are healing medicines
   for the evils of our day in the lowest stratum of society. It is a
   complete mistake. What the masses want is more sympathy, more kindness,
   more brotherly love, more treatment as if they were really of "one
   blood" with ourselves. Give them that., and you will fill up half the
   gulf of discontent.

   It is a common saying in this day, that the working classes have no
   religion, that they are alienated from the Church of England, that they
   cannot be brought to church, and that it is hopeless and useless to try
   to do them good. I believe nothing of the kind. I believe the working
   classes are not one jot more opposed to religion than the "upper ten
   thousand," and that they are just as open to good influences, and even
   more likely to be saved if they are approached in the right way. But
   what they do like is to be treated as "one blood," and what is wanted
   is a great increase of sympathy and personal friendly dealing with
   them.

   I confess that I have immense faith in the power of sympathy and
   kindness. I believe the late Judge Talfourd hit the right nail on the
   head when he said, in almost his last charge to a Grand Jury at
   Stafford Assizes, "Gentlemen, the great want of the age is more
   sympathy between classes." I entirely agree with him; I think an
   increase of sympathy and fellow-feeling between high and low, rich and
   poor, employer and employed, parson and people, is one healing medicine
   which the age demands. Sympathy, exhibited in its perfection, was one
   secondary cause of the acceptance which Christ's gospel met with on its
   first appearance in the heathen world. Well says Lord Macaulay, "It was
   before Deity taking a human form, walking among men, partaking of their
   infirmities, leaning on their bosoms, weeping over their graves,
   slumbering in the manger, bleeding on the cross, that the prejudices of
   the synagogue, and the doubts of the academy, and the fasces of the
   lictor, and the swords of thirty legions, were humbled in the dust."
   And sympathy, I firmly believe, can do as much in the nineteenth
   century as it did in the first. If anything will melt down the cold
   isolation of classes in these latter days, and make our social body
   consist of solid cubes compacted together, instead of spheres only
   touching each other at one point, it will be a large growth of
   Christlike sympathy.

   Now I assert confidently that the English working man is peculiarly
   open to sympathy. The working man may live in a poor dwelling; and
   after toiling all day in a coal pit, or cotton mill, or iron foundry,
   or dock, or chemical works, he may often look very rough and dirty. But
   after all, he is flesh and blood like ourselves. Beneath his outward
   roughness he has a heart and a conscience, a keen sense of justice, and
   a jealous recollection of his rights as a man and a Briton. He does not
   want to be patronized and flattered, any more than to be trampled on,
   scolded, or neglected; but he does like to be dealt with as a brother,
   in a friendly, kind, and sympathizing way. He wilt not be driven; he
   will do nothing for a cold, hard man, however clever he may be. But
   give him a Christian visitor to his home who really understands that it
   is the heart and not the coat which makes the man, and that the
   guinea's worth is in the gold, and not in the stamp upon it. Give him a
   visitor who will not only talk about Christ, but sit down in his house,
   and take him by the hand in a Christlike, familiar way. Give him a
   visitor, and specially a clergyman, who realizes that in Christ's holy
   religion there is no respect of persons, that rich and poor are "made
   of one blood," and need one and the same atoning blood, and that there
   is only one Saviour, and one Fountain for sin, and one heaven, both for
   employers and employed. Give him a clergyman who can weep with them
   that weep, and rejoice with them that rejoice, and feel a tender
   interest in the cares, and troubles, and births, and marriages, and
   deaths of the humblest dweller in his parish. Give the working man, I
   say, a clergyman of that kind, and, as a general rule, the working man
   will come to his church, and not be a communist or an infidel. Such a
   clergyman will not preach to empty benches.

   How little, after all, do most people seem to realize the supreme
   importance of brotherly love and the absolute necessity of imitating
   that blessed Saviour who "went about doing good" to all, if we would
   prove ourselves His disciples l If ever there was a time when conduct
   like that of the good Samaritan in the parable was rare, it is the time
   in which we live. Selfish indifference to the wants of others is a
   painful characteristic of the age. Search the land in which we live,
   from the Isle of Wight to Berwick-on-Tweed, and from the Land's End to
   the North Foreland, and name, if you can, a single county or town in
   which the givers to good works are not a small minority, and in which
   philanthropic and religious agencies are not kept going, only and
   entirely, by painful begging and constant importunity. Go where you
   will, the report is always the same. Hospitals, missions at home and
   abroad, evangelistic and educational agencies, churches, chapels, and
   mission halls,- all are incessantly checked and hindered by want of
   support. Where are the Samaritans, we may well ask, in this land of
   Bibles and Testaments? Where are the Christians who live as if we are
   "all of one blood "? Where are the men who love their neighbours, and
   will help to provide for dying bodies and souls? Where are the people
   always ready and willing to give unasked, and without asking how much
   others have given? Millions are annually spent on deer forests, and
   moors, and hunting, and yachting, and racing, and gambling, and balls,
   and theatres, and dressing, and pictures, and furniture, and
   recreation. Little, comparatively, ridiculously little, is given or
   done for the cause of Christ. A miserable guinea subscription too often
   is the whole sum bestowed by some Croesus on the bodies and souls of
   his fellow-men. The very first principles of giving seem lost and
   forgotten in many quarters. People must be bribed and tempted to
   contribute by bazaars, as children in badly-managed families are bribed
   and tempted to be good by sugar-plums! They must not be expected to
   give unless they get something in return! And all this goes on in a
   country where people call themselves Christians, and go to church, and
   glory in ornate ceremonials, and histrionic rituals, and what are
   called "hearty services," and profess to believe the parable of the
   Good Samaritan. I fear there will be a sad waking up at the last day.

   Where, after all, to come to the root of the matter, where is that
   brotherly love which used to be the distinguishing mark of the
   primitive Christians? Where, amidst the din of controversy and furious
   strife of parties, where is the fruit of the Holy Spirit and the
   primary mark of spiritual regeneration? Where is that charity, without
   which we are no better than "sounding brass and tinkling cymbals"?
   Where is the charity which is the bond of perfectness? Where is that
   love by which our Lord declared all men should know His disciples, and
   which St. John said was the distinction between the children of God and
   the children of the devil? Where is it, indeed? Read in the newspapers
   the frightfully violent language of opposing politicians. Mark the
   hideous bitterness of controversial theologians, both in the press and
   on the platform. Observe the fiendish delight with which anonymous
   letter-writers endeavour to wound the feelings of opponents, and then
   to pour vitriol into the wound. Look at all this ghastly spectacle
   which any observing eye may see any day in England. And then remember
   that this is the country in which men are reading the New Testament and
   professing to follow Christ, and to believe that they are all of "one
   blood." Can anything more grossly inconsistent be conceived? Can
   anything be imagined more offensive to God? Truly, it is astonishing
   that such myriads should be so keen about Christian profession and
   external worship, and yet so utterly careless about the simplest
   elements of Christian practice. Where there is no love there is no
   spiritual life. Without brotherly love, although baptized and
   communicants, men are dead in trespasses and sins.

   I shall wind up all I have to say on the point of duty by reminding my
   readers of the solemn words which St. Matthew records to have been
   spoken by our Lord in the twenty-fifth chapter of his Gospel. In the
   great and dreadful day of judgment, when the Son of man shall sit on
   the throne of His glory, there are some to whom He will say, "Depart,
   ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and His
   angels: for I was an hungered, and ye gave Me no meat: I was thirsty,
   and ye gave Me no drink: I was a stranger, and ye took Me not in:
   naked, and ye clothed Me not; sick, and in prison, and ye visited Me
   not. Then shall they also answer Him, saying, Lord, when saw we Thee an
   hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison,
   and did not minister unto Thee? Then shall He answer them, saying,
   Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of
   these, ye did it not to Me" (Matt. 25:41-46).

   I declare I know very few passages of Scripture more solemn and
   heart-searching than this. It is not charged against these unhappy lost
   souls, that they had committed murder, adultery, or theft, or that they
   had not been church-goers or communicants. Oh, no! nothing of the kind.
   They had simply done nothing at all. They had neglected love to others.
   They had not tried to lessen the misery, or increase the happiness, of
   this sin-burdened world. They had selfishly sat still, done no good,
   and had no eyes to see, or hearts to feel, for their brethren the
   members of Adam's great family. And so their end is everlasting
   punishment! If these words cannot set some people thinking when they
   look at the state of the masses in some of our large towns, nothing
   will.

   And now I shall close this paper with three words of friendly advice,
   which I commend to the attention of all who read it. They are words in
   season for the days in which we live, and I am sure they are worth
   remembering.

   (a) First and foremost, I charge you never to give up the old doctrine
   of the plenary inspiration of the whole Bible. Hold it fast, and never
   let it go. Let nothing tempt you to think that any part of the grand
   old volume is not inspired, or that any of its narratives, and
   especially in Genesis, are not to be believed. Once take up that
   ground, and you will find yourself on an inclined plane. Well will it
   be if you do not slip down into utter infidelity! Faith's difficulties
   no doubt are great; but the difficulties of scepticism are far greater.

   (b) In the next place, I charge you never to give up the old doctrine
   of the blood of Christ, the complete satisfaction which that atoning
   blood made for sin, and the impossibility of being saved except by that
   blood. Let nothing tempt you to believe that it is enough to look at
   the example of Christ, or to receive the sacrament which Christ
   commanded to be received, and which many nowadays worship like an idol.
   When you come to your deathbed, you will want something more than an
   example and a sacrament. Take heed that you are found resting all your
   weight on Christ's substitution for you on the cross, and His atoning
   blood, or it will be better if you had never been born.

   (c) Last but not least, I charge you never to neglect the duty of
   brotherly love, and practical, active, sympathetic kindness towards
   every one around you, whether high or low, or rich or poor. Try daily
   to do some good upon earth, and to leave the world a better world than
   it was when you were born. If you are really a child of God, strive to
   be like your Father and your great elder Brother in heaven. For
   Christ's sake, do not be content to have religion for yourself alone.
   Love, charity, kindness, and sympathy are the truest proofs that we are
   real members of Christ, genuine children of God, and rightful heirs of
   the kingdom of heaven.

   Of "one blood" we were all born. In "one blood" we all need to be
   washed. To all partakers of Adam's "one blood" we are bound, if we love
   life, to be charitable, sympathizing, loving, and kind. The time is
   short. We are going, going, and shall soon be gone to a world where
   there is no evil to remedy, and no scope for works of mercy. Then for
   Christ's sake let us all try to do some good before we die, and to
   lessen the sorrows of this sin-burdened world.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [6] The substance of this paper was preached as a sermon at the Chapel
   Royal, St. James's, London, on March 2, 1884.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VII
  John 7:37-38.
  "LET ANY MAN COME."

   [7]

   "In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried,
   saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink. He that
   believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall
   flow rivers of living water."--John 7:37-38.

   THE text which heads this paper contains one of those mighty sayings of
   Christ which deserve to be printed in letters of gold. All the stars in
   heaven are bright and beautiful; yet even a child can see that "one
   star differeth from another in glory" (1 Cor. 15:41). All Scripture is
   given by inspiration of God; but that heart must indeed be cold and
   dull which does not feel that some verses are peculiarly rich and full.
   Of such verses this text is one.

   In order to see the whole force and beauty of the text, we must
   remember the place, the time, and occasion when it comes in.

   The place, then, was Jerusalem, the metropolis of Judaism, and the
   stronghold of priests and scribes, of Pharisees and Sadducees.--The
   occasion was the feast of tabernacles, one of those great annual feasts
   when every Jew, if he could, went up to the temple, according to the
   law.--The time was "the last day of the feast," when all the ceremonies
   were drawing to a close, when the water drawn from the fountain of
   Siloam had been solemnly poured on the altar, and nothing remained for
   worshippers but to return home.

   At this critical moment our Lord Jesus Christ "stood" forward on a
   prominent place, and spoke to the assembled crowds. I doubt not He read
   their hearts. He saw them going away with aching consciences and
   unsatisfied minds, having got nothing from their blind teachers the
   Pharisees and Sadducees, and carrying away nothing but a barren
   recollection of pompous forms. He saw and pitied them, and cried aloud,
   like a herald, "If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and
   drink."--That this was all our Lord said on this memorable occasion I
   take leave to doubt. I suspect it is only the keynote of His address.
   But this, I believe, was the first sentence that fell from His lips:
   "If any man thirst, let him come unto Me." If any one wants living,
   satisfying water, let him come unto ME.

   Let me remind my readers, in passing, that no prophet or Apostle ever
   took on himself to use such language as this. "Come with us," said
   Moses to Hobab (Num. 10:29); "Come to the waters," says Isaiah (Isa.
   45:1); "Behold the Lamb," says John the Baptist (John 1:29); "Believe
   on the Lord Jesus Christ," says St. Paul (Acts 16:31). But no one
   except Jesus of Nazareth ever said, "Come to ME." That fact is very
   significant. He that said, "Come to Me," knew and felt, when He said
   it, that He was the Eternal Son of God, the promised Messiah, the
   Saviour of the world.

   There are three points in this great saying of our Lord's to which I
   now propose to direct your attention.

   I. You have a case supposed: "If any man thirst."

   II. You have a remedy proposed: "Let him come unto Me, and drink."

   III. You have a promise held out: "He that believeth on Me, as the
   Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living
   water."

   Each of these points concerns all into whose hands this paper may fall.
   On each of them I have somewhat to say.

   I. In the first place, then, you have a case supposed. Our Lord says,
   "If any man thirst."

   Bodily thirst is notoriously the most painful sensation to which the
   frame of mortal man is liable. Read the story of the miserable
   sufferers in the Black Hole at Calcutta.--Ask any one who has travelled
   over desert plains under a tropical sum--Hear what any old soldier will
   tell you is the chief want of the wounded on a battlefield.--Remember
   what the survivors of the crews of ships lost in mid-ocean, like The
   Cospatrick, go through. Mark the awful words of the rich man n the
   parable: "Send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his finger in water
   to cool my tongue: for I am tormented in this flame" (Luke 16:24). The
   testimony is unvarying. There is nothing so terrible and hard to bear
   as thirst.

   But if bodily thirst is so painful, how much more painful is thirst of
   soul! Physical suffering is not the worst part of eternal punishment.
   It is a light thing, even in this world, compared to the suffering of
   the mind and inward man. To see the value of our souls, and find out
   they are in danger of eternal ruin,--to feel the burden of unforgiven
   sin, and not to know where to turn for relief, --to have a conscience
   sick and ill at ease, and to be ignorant of the remedy,--to discover
   that we are dying, dying daily, and yet unprepared to meet God,--to
   have some clear view of our own guilt and wickedness, and yet to be in
   utter darkness about absolution,--this is the highest degree of
   pain,--the pain which drinks up soul and spirit, and pierces joints and
   marrow! And this, no doubt, is the thirst of which our Lord is
   speaking. It is thirst after pardon, forgiveness, absolution, and peace
   with God. It is the craving of a really awakened conscience, wanting
   satisfaction and not knowing where to find it, walking through dry
   places, and unable to get rest.

   This is the thirst which the Jews felt, when Peter preached to them on
   the day of Pentecost. It is written that they were "pricked in their
   heart, and said, Men and brethren, what shall we do?" (Acts 2:37).

   This is the thirst which the Philippian jailor felt, when he awoke to
   consciousness of his spiritual danger, and felt the earthquake making
   the prison reel under his feet. It is written that he "came trembling,
   and fell down before Paul and Silas, and brought them out, saying,
   Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" (Acts 16:30).

   This is the thirst which many of the greatest servants of God seem to
   have felt, when light first broke in on their minds. Augustine seeking
   rest among the Manichean heretics and finding none,--Luther groping
   after truth among monks in Erfurt monastery,-- John Bunyan agonizing
   amidst doubts and conflicts in his Elstow cottage,--George Whitefield
   groaning under self-imposed austerities, for want of clear teaching,
   when an undergraduate at Oxford,--all have left on record their
   experience. I believe they all knew what our Lord meant when He spoke
   of "thirst."

   And surely, reader, it is not too much to say that all of us ought to
   know SOMETHING of this thirst, if not as much as Augustine, Luther,
   Bunyan, or Whitefield. Living as we do in a dying world,--knowing, as
   we must do, if we will confess it, that there is a world beyond the
   grave, and that after death comes the judgment,--feeling, as we must do
   in our better moments, what poor, weak, unstable, defective creatures
   we all are, and how unfit to meet God,---conscious as we must be in our
   inmost heart of hearts, that on our use of time depends our place in
   eternity,--we ought to feel and to realize something like "thirst" for
   a sense of peace with the living God. But alas, nothing proves so
   conclusively the fallen nature of man as the general, common want of
   spiritual appetite l For money, for power, for pleasure, for rank, for
   honour, for distinction,--for all these the vast majority are now
   intensely thirsting. To lead forlorn hopes, to dig for gold, to storm a
   breach, to try to hew a way through thick-ribbed ice to the North
   Pole,--for all these objects there is no lack of adventurers and
   volunteers. Fierce and Incensing is the competition for these
   corruptible crowns! But few indeed, by comparison, are those who thirst
   after eternal life. No wonder that the natural man is called in
   Scripture "dead," and "sleeping," and blind, and deaf. No wonder that
   he is said to need a second birth and a new creation. There is no surer
   symptom of mortification in the body than insensibility. There is no
   more painful sign of an unhealthy state of soul than an utter absence
   of spiritual thirst. Woe to that man of whom the Saviour can say, "Thou
   knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind,
   and naked" (Rev. 3:17).

   But who is there among the readers of this paper that feels the burden
   of sin, and longs for peace with God? Who is there that really feels
   the words of our Prayer Book Confession: "I have erred and strayed like
   a lost sheep,--there is no health in me,--I am a miserable offender"?
   Who is there that enters into the fulness of our Communion service, and
   can say with truth, "The remembrance of my sins is grievous, and the
   burden of them is intolerable"? You are the man that ought to thank
   God. A sense of sin, guilt, and poverty of soul, is the first stone
   laid by the Holy Ghost, when He builds a spiritual temple. He convinces
   of sin. Light was the first thing called into being in the material
   creation. (Gen. 1:3). Light about our own state is the first work in
   the new creation. Thirsting soul, I say again, you are the person that
   ought to thank God. The kingdom of God is near you. It is not when we
   begin to feel good, but when we feel bad, that we take the first step
   towards heaven. Who taught thee that thou wast naked? Whence came this
   inward light? Who opened thine eyes and made thee see and feel? Know
   this day that flesh and blood hath not revealed these things unto thee,
   but our Father which is in heaven. Universities may confer degrees, and
   schools may impart knowledge of all the sciences, but they cannot make
   men feel sin. To realize our spiritual need, and feel true spiritual
   thirst, is the A B C in saving Christianity. It is a great saying of
   Elihu, in the book of Job, " God looketh upon men, and if any say, I
   have sinned, and perverted that which was right, and it profited me
   not; He will deliver his soul from death, and his life shall see the
   light" (Job 33:27-28). Let him that knows anything of spiritual
   "thirst" not be ashamed. Rather let him lift up his head, and begin to
   hope. Let him pray that God would carry on the work He has begun, and
   make him feel more.

   II. pass from the case supposed to the remedy proposed. "If any man
   thirst," says our blessed Lord Jesus Christ, "let him come unto Me, and
   drink."

   There is a grand simplicity about this little sentence which cannot be
   too much admired. There is not a word in it of which the literal
   meaning is not plain to a child. Yet, simple as it appears, it is rich
   in spiritual meaning. Like the Koh-i-noor diamond, which you may carry
   between finger and thumb, it is of unspeakable value. It solves that
   mighty problem which all the philosophers of Greece and Rome could
   never solve,--"How can man have peace with God?" Place it in your
   memory side by side with six other golden sayings of your Lord:--"I am
   the bread of life: he that cometh unto Me shall never hunger; and he
   that believeth on ME shall never thirst." --"I am the Light of the
   world: he that followeth ME shall not walk in darkness, but shall have
   the light of life."---" I am the Door: by ME if any man enter in, he
   shall be saved."---" I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life: no man
   cometh unto the Father but by ME."--"Come unto Me, all ye that labour
   and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."--"Him that cometh to Me
   I will in no wise cast out."--Add to these six texts the one before you
   to-day. Get the whole seven by heart. Rivet them down in your mind, and
   never let them go. When your feet touch the cold river, on the bed of
   sickness and in the hour of death, you will find these seven texts
   above all price (John 6:35, 8:12, 10:9, 14:6; Matt. 11:28; John 6:37).

   For what is the sum and substance of these simple words? It is this.
   Christ is that Fountain of living water which God has graciously
   provided for thirsting souls From Him, as out of the rock smitten by
   Moses, there flows an abundant stream for all who travel through the
   wilderness of this world. In Him, as our Redeemer and Substitute,
   crucified for our sins and raised again for our justification, there is
   an endless supply of all that men can need, pardon, absolution, mercy,
   grace, peace, rest, relief, comfort, and hope.

   This rich provision Christ has bought for us at the price of His own
   precious blood. To open this wondrous fountain He suffered for sin, the
   just for the unjust, and bore our sins in His own body on the tree. He
   was made sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the
   righteousness of God in Him (1 Pet. 2:24, 3:18; 2 Cor. 5:21). And now
   He is sealed and appointed to be the Reliever of all who are labouring
   and heavy-laden, and the Giver of living water to all who thirst. It is
   His office to receive sinners. It is His pleasure to give them pardon,
   life, and peace. And the words of the text are a proclamation He makes
   to all mankind,---" If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and
   drink."

   Let every reader of this paper remember that the efficacy of a medicine
   depends in great measure on the manner in which it is used. The best
   prescription of the best physician is useless if we refuse to follow
   the directions which accompany it. Suffer the word of exhortation,
   while I offer some caution and advice about the fountain of living
   water.

   (a) He that thirsts and wants relief must come to Christ Himself. He
   must not be content with coming to His Church and His ordinances, or to
   the assemblies of His people for prayer and praise. He must not stop
   short even at His holy table, or rest satisfied with privately opening
   his heart to His ordained ministers. Oh, no! he that is content with
   only drinking these waters "shall thirst again" (John 4:13). He must go
   higher, further, much further than this. He must have personal dealings
   with Christ Himself: all else in religion is worthless without Him. The
   King's palace, the attendant servants, the richly furnished
   banqueting-house, the very banquet itself, all are nothing unless we
   speak with the King. His hand alone can take the burden off our backs
   and make us feel free. The hand of man may take the stone from the
   grave and show the dead; but none but Jesus can say to the dead, "Come
   forth, and live" (John 11:41-43). We must deal directly with Christ.

   (b) Again: he that thirsts and wants relief from Christ must actually
   come to Him. It is not enough to wish, and talk, and mean, and intend,
   and resolve, and hope. Hell, that awful reality, is truly said to be
   paved with good intentions. Thousands are yearly lost in this fashion,
   and perish miserably just outside the harbour. Meaning and intending
   they live; meaning and intending they die. Oh, no! we must "arise and
   come!" If the prodigal son had been content with saying, "How many
   hired servants of my father have bread enough and to spare, and I
   perish with hunger! I hope some day to return home," he might have
   remained for ever among the swine. It was when he AROSE AND CAME to his
   father that his father ran to meet him, and said, "Bring forth the best
   robe, and put it on him .... Let us eat and be merry" (Luke 15:20-23).
   Like him, we must not only "come to ourselves," and think, but we must
   actually come to the High Priest, to Christ. We must come to the
   Physician.

   (c) Once again: he that thirsts and wants to come to Christ must
   remember that SIMPLE FAITH IS THE ONE THING REQUIRED. By all means let
   him come with a penitent, broken, and contrite heart; but let him not
   dream of resting on that for acceptance. Faith is the only hand that
   can carry the living water to our lips. Faith is the hinge on which all
   turns in the matter of our justification. It is written again and
   again, that "whosoever believeth shall not perish, but have eternal
   life" (John 3:15-16). "To him that worketh not, but believeth on Him
   that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness"
   (Rom. 4:5). Happy is he that can lay hold on the principle laid down in
   that matchless hymn,-

   "Just as I am: without one plea,
   But that Thy blood was shed for me,
   And that Thou bidst me come to Thee--
   O Lamb of God, I come."

   How simple this remedy for thirst appears! But oh, how hard it is to
   persuade some persons to receive it! Tell them to do some great thing,
   to mortify their bodies, to go on pilgrimage, to give all their goods
   to feed the poor, and so to merit salvation, and they will try to do as
   they are bid. Tell them to throw overboard all idea of merit, working,
   or doing, and to come to Christ as empty sinners, with nothing in their
   hands, and, like Naaman, they are ready to turn away in disdain (2
   Kings 5:12). Human nature is always the same in every age. There are
   still some people just like the Jews, and some like the Greeks. To the
   Jews Christ crucified is still a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks
   foolishness. Their succession, at any rate, has never ceased! Never did
   our Lord say a truer word than that which He spoke to the proud scribes
   in the Sanhedrim, "Ire WILL NOT come unto Me that ye might have life"
   (John 5:40).

   But, simple as this remedy for thirst appears, it is the only cure for
   man's spiritual disease, and the only bridge from earth to heaven.
   Kings and their subjects, preachers and hearers, masters and servants,
   high and low, rich and poor, learned and unlearned, all must alike
   drink of this water of life, and drink in the same way. For eighteen
   centuries men have laboured to find some other medicine for weary
   consciences; but they have laboured in vain. Thousands, after
   blistering their hands, and growing grey in hewing out "broken
   cisterns, which can hold no water" (Jer. 2:13), have been obliged to
   come back at last to the old Fountain, and have confessed in their
   latest moment that here, in Christ alone, is true peace.

   And simple as the old remedy for thirst may appear, it is the root of
   the inward life of all God's greatest servants in all ages. What have
   the saints and martyrs been in every era of Church history, but men who
   came to Christ daily by faith, and found His flesh meat indeed and His
   blood drink indeed? (John 6:55). What have they all been but men who
   lived the life of faith in the Son of God, and drank daily out of the
   fulness there is in Him? (Gal. 2:20). Here, at all events, the truest
   and best Christians, who have made a mark on the world, have been of
   one mind. Holy Fathers and Reformers, holy Anglican divines and
   Puritans, holy Episcopalians and Nonconformists, have all in their best
   moments borne uniform testimony to the value of the Fountain of life.
   Separated and contentious as they may sometimes have been in their
   lives, in their deaths they have not been divided. In their last
   struggle with the King of Terrors they have simply clung to the cross
   of Christ, and gloried in nothing but the "precious blood," and the
   Fountain open for all sin and uncleanness.

   How thankful we ought to be that we live in a land where the great
   remedy for spiritual thirst is known,-in a land of open Bibles,
   preached gospel, and abundant means of grace,--in a land where the
   efficacy of Christ's sacrifice is still proclaimed, with more or less
   fulness, in 20,000 pulpits every Sunday. We do not realize the value of
   our privileges. The very familiarity of the manna makes us think little
   of it, just as Israel loathed "the light bread" in the wilderness (Num.
   21:5). But turn to the pages of a heathen philosopher like the
   incomparable Plato, and see how he moped after light like one
   blindfold, and wearied himself to find the door. The humblest peasant
   who grasps the four "comfortable words" of our beautiful Communion
   service, in the Prayer Book, knows more of the way of peace with God
   than the Athenian sage.--Turn to the accounts which trustworthy
   travellers and missionaries give of the state of the heathen who have
   never heard the gospel. Read of the human sacrifices in Africa, and the
   ghastly self-imposed tortures of the devotees of Hindostan, and
   remember they are all the result of an unquenched "thirst" and a blind
   and unsatisfied desire to get near to God. And then learn to be
   thankful that your lot is cast in a land like your own.

   Alas, I fear God has a controversy with us for our un-thankfulness!
   Cold indeed, and dead, must that heart be which can study the condition
   of Africa, China, and Hindostan, and not thank God that he lives in
   Christian England.

   III. I turn, in the last place, to the promise held met to all who come
   to Christ. "He that believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said, out of
   his belly shall flow rivers of living water."

   The subject of Scripture promises is a vast and most interesting one. I
   doubt whether it receives the attention which it deserves in the
   present day. Clarke's Scripture Promises, I suspect, is an old book,
   which is far less studied than it was in the days of our fathers. Few
   Christians realize the number, and length, and breadth, and depth, and
   height, and variety of the precious "shalls" and "wills" laid up in the
   Bible for the special benefit and encouragement of all who will use
   them.

   Yet promise lies at the bottom of nearly all the transactions of man
   with man in the affairs of this life. The vast majority of Adam's
   children in every civilized country are acting every day on the faith
   of promises. The labourer on the land works hard from Monday morning to
   Saturday night, because he believes that at the end of the week he
   shall receive his promised wages. The soldier enlists in the army, and
   the sailor enters his name on the ship's books in the navy, in the full
   confidence that those under whom they serve will at some future time
   give them their promised pay. The humblest maid-servant in a family
   works on from day to day at her appointed duties, in the belief that
   her mistress will give her the promised wages. In the business of great
   cities, among merchants, and bankers, and tradesmen, nothing could be
   done without incessant faith in promises. Every man of sense knows that
   cheques, and bills, and promissory notes, are the only means by which
   the immense majority of mercantile affairs can possibly be carried on.
   Men of business are compelled to act by faith and not by sight. They
   believe promises, and expect to be believed themselves. In short,
   promises, and faith in promises, and actions springing from faith in
   promises, are the backbone of nine-tenths of all the dealings of man
   with his fellow-creatures throughout Christendom.

   Now promises in like manner, in the religion of the Bible, are one Hand
   means by which God is pleased to approach the soul of man. The careful
   student of Scripture cannot fail to observe that God is continually
   holding out inducements to man to listen to Him, obey Him, and serve
   Him; and undertaking to do great things, if man will only attend and
   believe. In short, as St. Peter says, "There are given to us exceeding
   great and precious promises" (2 Pet. 1:4). He who has mercifully
   caused. all Holy Scripture to be written for our learning, has shown
   His perfect knowledge of human nature, by spreading over the book a
   perfect wealth of promises, suitable to every kind of experience and
   every condition of life. He seems to say, "Would you know what I
   undertake to do for you? Do you want to hear my terms? Take up the
   Bible and read."

   But there is one grand difference between the promises of Adam's
   children and the promises of God, which ought never to be forgotten.
   The promises of man are not sure to be fulfilled. With the best wishes
   and intentions, he cannot always keep his word. Disease and death may
   step in like an armed man, and take away from this world him that
   promises. War, or pestilence, or famine, or failure of crops, or
   hurricanes, may strip him of his property, and make it impossible for
   him to fulfil his engagements. The promises of God, on the contrary,
   are certain to be kept. He is almighty: nothing can prevent His doing
   what He has said. He never changes: He is always "of one mind;" and
   with Him there is "no variableness or shadow of turning" (Job 23:13;
   Jas. 1:17). He will always keep His word. There is one thing which, as
   a little girl once told her teacher, to her surprise, God cannot do:
   "It is impossible for God to lie" (Heb. 6:18). The most unlikely and
   improbable things, when God has once said He will do them, have always
   come to pass. The destruction of the old world by a flood, and the
   preservation of Noah in the Ark, the birth of Isaac, the deliverance of
   Israel from Egypt, the raising of David to the throne of Saul, the
   miraculous birth of Christ, the resurrection of Christ, the scattering
   of the Jews all over the earth, and their continued preservation as a
   distinct people, who could imagine events more unlikely and improbable
   than these? Yet God said they should be, and in due time they all came
   to pass. In short, with God it is just as easy to do a thing as to say
   it. Whatever He promises, He is certain to perform.

   Concerning the variety and riches of Scripture promises, far more might
   be said than it is possible to say in a short paper like this. Their
   name is legion. The subject is almost inexhaustible. There is hardly a
   step in man's life, from childhood to old age, hardly any position in
   which man can be placed, for which the Bible has not held out
   encouragement to every one who desires to do right in the sight of God.
   There are "shalls" and "wills" in God's treasury for every condition.
   About God's infinite mercy and compassion, about His readiness to
   receive all who repent and believe, about His willingness to forgive,
   pardon, and absolve the chief of sinners, --about His power to change
   hearts and alter our corrupt nature,--about the encouragements to pray,
   and hear the gospel, and draw near to the throne of grace, about
   strength for duty, comfort in trouble, guidance in perplexity, help in
   sickness, consolation in death, support under bereavement, happiness
   beyond the gave, reward in glory,--about all these things there is an
   abundant supply of promises in the Word. No one can form an idea of its
   abundance unless he carefully searches the Scriptures, keeping the
   subject steadily in view. If any one doubts it, I can only say, "Come
   and see." Like the Queen of Sheba at Solomon's court, you will soon
   say, "The half was not told me" (1 Kings 10:7).

   The promise of our Lord Jesus Christ, which heads this paper, is
   somewhat peculiar. It is singularly rich in encouragement to all who
   feel spiritual thirst, and come to Him for relief, and therefore it
   deserves peculiar attention, Most of our Lord's promises refer
   specially to the benefit of the person to whom they are addressed. The
   promise before us takes a far wider range: it seems to refer to many
   others beside those to whom He spoke. For what says He?--" He that
   believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said" (and everywhere teaches),
   "out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. But this spake He
   of the Spirit, which they that believe on Him should receive."
   Figurative, undoubtedly, are these words,--figurative, like the earlier
   words of the sentence, figurative, like "thirst" and "drinking." But
   all the figures of Scripture contain great truths; and what the figure
   before us was meant to convey I will now try to show.

   (1):For one thing, then, I believe our Lord meant that he who comes to
   Him by faith shall receive an abundant supply of everything that he can
   desire for the relief of his own soul's wants. The Spirit shall convey
   to him such an abiding sense of pardon, peace, and hope, that it shall
   be in his inward man like a well-spring never dry. He shall feel so
   satisfied with "the things of Christ," which the Spirit shall show him
   (John 16:15), that he shall rest from spiritual anxiety about death,
   judgment, and eternity. He may have his seasons of darkness and doubt,
   through his own infirmities or the temptations of the devil. But,
   speaking generally, when he has once come to Christ by faith he shall
   find in his heart of hearts an unfailing fountain of consolation. This,
   let us understand, is the first thing which the promise before us
   contains. "Only come to Me, poor anxious soul," our Lord seems to
   say,--"Only come to Me, and thy spiritual anxiety shall be relieved. I
   will place in thy heart, by the power of the Holy Spirit, such a sense
   of pardon and peace, through my atonement and intercession, that thou
   shalt never completely thirst again. Thou mayest have thy doubts, and
   fears, and conflicts, while thou art in the body. But once having come
   to Me, and taken Me for thy Saviour, thou shalt never feel thyself
   entirely hopeless. The condition of thine inward man shall be so
   thoroughly changed, that thou shalt feel as if there was within thee an
   ever-flowing spring of water."

   What shall we say to these things? I declare my own belief, that
   whenever a man or woman really comes to Christ by faith, he finds this
   promise fulfilled. He may possibly be weak in grace, and have many
   misgivings about his own condition. He may possibly not dare to say
   that he is converted, justified, sanctified, and meet for the
   inheritance of the saints in light. But for all that, I am bold to say
   the humblest and feeblest believer in Christ has got something within
   him which he would not part with, though he may not yet fully
   understand it. And what is that "something"? It is just that "river of
   living water" which begins to run in the heart of every child of Adam
   as soon as he comes to Christ and drinks. In this sense I believe this
   wonderful promise of Christ is always fulfilled.

   (2) But is this all that is contained in the promise which heads this
   paper? By no means. There yet remains much behind. There is more to
   follow. I believe our Lord meant us to understand that he who comes to
   Him by faith shall not only have an abundant supply of everything which
   he needs for his own soul, but shall also become a source of blessing
   to the souls of others. The Spirit who dwells in him shall make him a
   fountain of good to his fellow-men, so that at the last day there shall
   be found to have flowed from him "rivers of living water."

   This is a most important part of our Lord's promise, and opens up a
   subject which is seldom realized and grasped by many Christians. But it
   is one of deep interest, and deserves far more attention than it
   receives. I believe it to be a truth of God. I believe that just as "no
   man liveth unto himself" (Rom. 14:7), so also no man is converted only
   for himself; and that the conversion of one man or woman always leads
   on, in God's wonderful providence, to the conversion of others. I do
   not say for a moment that all believers know it. I think it far more
   likely that many live and die in the faith, who are not aware that they
   have done good to any soul. But I believe the resurrection morning and
   the judgment day, when the secret history of all Christians is
   revealed, will prove that the full meaning of the promise before us has
   never failed. I doubt if there will be a believer who will not have
   been to some one or other a "river of living water,"--a channel through
   whom the Spirit has conveyed saving grace. Even the penitent thief,
   short as his time was after he repented, has been a source of blessing
   to thousands of souls!

   (a) Some believers are "rivers of living water" while they live. Their
   words, their conversation, their preaching, their teaching, are all
   means by which the water of life has flowed into the hearts of their
   fellow-men. Such, for example, were the Apostles, who wrote no Epistles
   and only preached the word. Such were Luther, and Whitefield, and
   Wesley, and Berridge, and Rowlands, and thousands of others of whom I
   cannot now speak particularly.

   (b) Some believers are "rivers of living water" when they die. Their
   courage in facing the King of Terrors, their boldness in the most
   painful sufferings, their unswerving faithfulness to Christ's truth
   even at the stake, their manifest peace on the edge of the grave,--all
   this has set thousands thinking, and led hundreds to repent and
   believe. Such, for example, were the primitive martyrs, whom the Roman
   emperors persecuted. Such were John Huss, and Jerome of Prague. Such
   were Cranmer, Ridley, Latimer, Hooper, and the noble army of Marian
   martyrs. The work that they did at their deaths, like Samson, was far
   greater than the work done in their lives.

   (c) Some believers are "rivers of living water" long after they die.
   They do good by their books and writings in every part of the world,
   long after the hands which held the pen are mouldering in the dust.
   Such men were Bunyan, and Baxter, and Owen, and George Herbert, and
   Robert M'Cheyne. These blessed servants of God do more good probably by
   their books at this moment, than they did by their tongues when they
   were alive. "Being dead, they yet speak" (Heb. 11:4).

   (d) Finally, there are some believers who are "rivers of living water"
   by the beauty of their daily conduct and behaviour. There are many
   quiet, gentle, consistent Christians, who make no show and no noise in
   the world, and yet insensibly exercise a deep influence for good on all
   around them. They "win without the Word" (1 Pet. 3:1). Their love,
   their kindness, their sweet temper, their patience, their
   unselfishness, tell silently on a wide circle, and sow seeds of thought
   and self-inquiry in many minds. It was a fine testimony of an old lady
   who died in great peace,--saying that under God she owed her salvation
   to Mr. Whitefield:--" It was not any sermon that he preached; it was
   not anything that he ever said to me. It was the beautiful consistency
   and kindness of his daily life, in the house where he was staying, when
   I was a little girl. I said to myself, if I ever have any religion, Mr.
   Whitefield's God shall be my God."

   I charge every reader of this paper to lay hold on this view of our
   Lord's promise, and never forget it. Think not for a moment that your
   own soul is the only soul that will be saved, if you come to Christ by
   faith and follow Him. Think of the blessedness of being a "river of
   living water" to others. Who can tell that you may not be the means of
   bringing many others to Christ? Live, and act, and speak, and pray, and
   work, keeping this continually in view. I knew a family, consisting of
   a father, mother, and ten children, in which true religion began with
   one of the daughters; and when it began she stood alone, and all the
   rest of the family were in the world. And yet, before she died, she saw
   both her parents and all her brothers and sisters converted to God, and
   all this, humanly speaking, began from her influence! Surely, in the
   face of this, we need not doubt, that a believer may be to others a
   "river of living water." Conversions may not be in your time, and you
   may die without seeing them. But never doubt that conversion generally
   leads to conversions, and that few go to heaven alone. When Grimshaw,
   of Haworth, the apostle of the north, died, he left his son graceless
   and godless. Afterwards the son was converted, never having forgotten
   his father's advice and example. And his last words were," What will my
   old father say when he sees me in heaven?" Let us take courage and hope
   on, believing Christ's promise.

   (1) And now, before we part, let me ask every one who reads this paper
   a plain question. Do you know anything of spiritual thirst? Have you
   ever felt any-tiring of genuine deep concern about your soul?--I fear
   that many know nothing about it. I have learned, by the painful
   experience of the third of a century, that people may go on for years
   attending God's house, and yet never feel their sins, or desire to be
   saved. The cares of this world, the love of pleasure, the "lust of
   other things," choke the good seed every Sunday, and make it
   unfruitful. They come to church with hearts as cold as the stone
   pavement on which they walk. They go away as thoughtless and unmoved as
   the old marble busts which look down on them from the monuments on the
   walls. Well, it may be so; but I do not yet despair of any one, so long
   as he is alive. That grand old bell in St. Paul's Cathedral, London,
   which has struck the hours for so many years, is seldom heard by many
   citizens during the business hours of the day. The roar and din of
   traffic in the streets have a strange power to deaden its sound, and
   prevent men hearing it. But when the daily work is over, and desks are
   locked, and doors are closed, and books are put away, and quiet reigns
   in the great city, the case is altered. As the old bell strikes eleven,
   and twelve, and one, and two, and three at night, thousands hear it who
   never heard it during the day. And so I hope it will be with many a one
   in the matter of his soul. Now, in the plenitude of health and
   strength, in the hurry and whirl of business, I fear the voice of your
   conscience is often stifled, and you cannot hear it. But the day may
   come when the great bell of conscience will make itself heard, whether
   you like it or not. The time may come when, laid aside in quietness,
   and obliged by illness to sit still, you may be forced to look within,
   and consider your soul's concerns. And then, when the great bell of
   awakened conscience is sounding in your ears, I trust that many a man
   who reads this paper may hear the voice of God and repent, may learn to
   thirst, and learn to come to Christ for relief. Yes! I pray God you may
   yet be taught to feel before it be too late!

   (2) But do you feel anything at this very moment? Is your conscience
   awake and working? Are you sensible of spiritual thirst, and longing
   for relief? Then hear the invitation which I bring you in my Master's
   name this day: If any man," no matter who he may be,--if any man, high
   or low, rich or poor, learned or unlearned,---" if any man thirst, let
   him come to Christ, and drink." Hear and accept that invitation without
   delay. Wait for nothing. Wait for nobody. Who can tell that you may not
   wait for "a convenient season" till it be too late! The hand of a
   living Redeemer is now held out from heaven; but it may be withdrawn.
   The Fountain is open now; but it may soon be closed for ever. "If any
   man thirst, let him come and drink" without delay. Though you have been
   a great sinner, and have resisted warnings, counsel, and sermons, yet
   come.--Though you have sinned against light and knowledge, against a
   father's advice, and a mother's tears, though you have lived for years
   without a Sabbath, and without prayer, yet come.--Say not that you know
   not how to come, that you do not understand what it is to believe, that
   you must wait for more light. Will a tired man say, that he is too
   tired to lie down? or a drowning man, that he knows not how to lay hold
   on the hand stretched out to help him? or the shipwrecked sailor, with
   a lifeboat alongside the stranded hulk, that he knows not how to jump
   in? Oh, cast away these vain excuses! Arise, and come! The door is not
   shut. The fountain is not yet closed. The Lord Jesus invites you. It is
   enough that you feel thirst, and desire to be saved. Come: come to
   Christ without delay. Who ever came to the fountain for sin and found
   it dry? Who ever went unsatisfied away?

   (3) But have you come to Christ already and found relief? Then come
   nearer, nearer still. The closer your communion with Christ, the more
   comfort you will fed. The more you daily live by the side of the
   Fountain, the more you shall feel in yourself "a well of water
   springing up into everlasting life" (John 4:14). You shall not only be
   blessed yourself, but be a source of blessing to others.

   In this evil world you may not perhaps feel all the sensible comfort
   you could desire. But remember you cannot have two heavens. Perfect
   happiness is yet to come. The devil is not yet bound. There is "a good
   time coming" for all who feel their sins and come to Christ, and commit
   their thirsting souls to His keeping. When He comes again, they will be
   completely satisfied.
     __________________________________________________________________

  Note

   THERE is a passage in an old writer which throws so much light on some
   points mentioned in this paper, that I make no excuse for giving it to
   the reader in its entirety. It comes from a work which is little known
   and less read. It has done me good, and I think it may do good to
   others.

   "When a man is awakened, and brought to that, that all must be brought
   to, or to worse,' What shall I do to be saved!' (Acts 16:30-31), we
   have the apostolic answer to it: ' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,
   and thou shalt be saved, and thy house.' This answer is so old that
   with many it seems out of date But it is still, and will ever be,
   fresh, and new, and savoury, and the only resolution of this grand case
   of conscience, as long as conscience and the world lasts. No wit or art
   of man will ever find a crack or flaw in it, or devise another or a
   better answer; nor can any but this alone heal rightly the wound of an
   awakened conscience.

   "Let us set this man to seek resolution and relief in this case of some
   masters in our Israel. According to their principles they must say to
   him, 'Repent, and mourn for your known sins, and leave them and loathe
   them; and God will have mercy on you.' 'Alas!' (saith the poor man), '
   my heart is hard, and I cannot repent aright: yea, I find my heart more
   hard and vile than when I was secure in sin.' If you speak to this man
   of qualifications for Christ, he knows nothing of them; if of sincere
   obedience, his answer is native and ready: ' Obedience is the work of a
   living man, and sincerity is only in a renewed soul.' Sincere obedience
   is therefore as impossible to a dead, unrenewed sinner, as perfect
   obedience is. Why should not the right answer be given to the awakened
   sinner: ' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved'?
   Tell him what Christ is, what He hath done and suffered to obtain
   eternal redemption for sinners, and that according to the will of God
   and his Father. Give him a plain downright narrative of the gospel
   salvation wrought out by the Son of God; tell him the history and
   mystery of the gospel plainly. It may be the Holy Ghost will work faith
   thereby, as He did in those first-fruits of the Gentiles. (Acts 10:44).

   "If he ask, What warrant he hath to believe on Jesus Christ? tell him,
   that he hath utter, indispensable necessity for it; for without
   believing on Him, he must perish eternally. Tell him that he hath God's
   gracious offer of Christ and all His redemption; with a promise that
   upon accepting the offer by faith, Christ, and salvation with Him, is
   his. Tell him that he hath God's express commandment (1 John 3:23), to
   believe on Christ's name; and that he should make conscience of obeying
   it, as well as any command in the moral law. Tell him of Christ's
   ability and goodwill to save; that no man was ever rejected by Him that
   cast himself upon Him; that desperate cases are the glorious triumphs
   of His art of saving. Tell him, that there is no midst (or medium)
   between faith and unbelief; that there is no excuse for neglecting the
   one, and continuing in the other; that believing on the Lord Jesus for
   salvation is more pleasing to God than all obedience to His law; and
   that unbelief is the most provoking to God, and the most damning to
   man, of all sins. Against the greatness of his sins, the curse of the
   law, and the severity of God as Judge, there is no relief to be held
   forth to him, but the free and boundless grace of God in the merit of
   Christ's satisfaction by the sacrifice of Himself.

   "If he should say, What is it to believe on Jesus Christ? as to this, I
   find no such question in the Word: but that all did some way understand
   the notion of it; the Jews that did not believe on Him (John 6:28-30);
   the chief priests and Pharisees (John 7:48); the blind man (John 9:35).
   When Christ asked him, Believest thou on the Son of God? he answered,
   Who is he, Lord, that I may believe on Him? Immediately, when Christ
   had told him (John 9:37), he saith not, What is it to believe on Him?
   but, Lord, I believe; and worshipped Him: and so both professed and
   acted faith in Him. So the father of the lunatic (Mark 9:23-24), and
   the eunuch (Acts 8:37). They all, both Christ's enemies and His
   disciples, knew that faith in Him was a believing that the man Jesus of
   Nazareth was the Son of God, the Messiah, and Saviour of the world, so
   as to receive and look for salvation in His name (Acts 9:12). This was
   the common report, published by Christ and His Apostles and disciples;
   and known by all that heard it.

   "If he yet ask, What he is to believe? you tell him, that he is not
   called to believe that he is in Christ, and that his sins are pardoned,
   and he a justified man; but that he is to believe God's record
   concerning Christ (1 John 5:10-12). And this record is, that God giveth
   (that is, offereth) to us eternal life in His Son Jesus Christ; and
   that all that with the heart believe this report, and rest their souls
   on these glad tidings, shall be saved (Rom. 10:9-11). And thus he is to
   believe, that he may be justified (Gal. 2:16).

   "If he still say that this believing is hard, this is a good doubt, but
   easily resolved. It bespeaks a man deeply humbled. Anybody may see his
   own impotence to obey the law of God fully; but few find the difficulty
   of believing. For his relief and resolution ask him, What it is he
   finds makes believing difficult to him? Is it unwillingness to be
   justified and saved? Is it unwillingness to be so saved by Jesus
   Christ, to the praise of God's grace in Him, and to the voiding of all
   boasting in himself? This he will surely deny. Is it a distrust of the
   truth of the gospel record? This he dare not own. Is it a doubt of
   Christ's ability or goodwill to save? This is to contradict the
   testimony of God in the gospel. Is it because he doubts of an interest
   in Christ and his redemption? You tell him that believing on Christ
   makes up the interest in Him.

   "If he say that he cannot believe on Jesus Christ because of the
   difficulty of the acting this faith, and that a Divine power is needful
   to draw it forth, which he finds not, you must tell him that believing
   in Jesus Christ is no work, but a resting on Jesus Christ. You must
   tell him that this pretence is as unreasonable as if a man, wearied
   with a journey and not able to go one step further, should argue, ' I
   am so tired, that I am not able to lie down,' when indeed he can
   neither stand nor go. The poor wearied sinner can never believe on
   Jesus Christ till he finds he can do nothing for himself; and in his
   first believing doth always apply himself to Christ for salvation, as a
   man hopeless and helpless in himself. And by such reasonings with him
   from the gospel, the Lord will (as He hath often done) convey faith and
   joy and peace by believing." Robert Tralli's Works, 1696. Vol. i.
   266-269.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [7] The substance of great part of this paper was preached, as a
   sermon, under the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral, London, and in the nave
   of Chester Cathedral, in the year 1878.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VIII
  1 John 5:4-5.
  VICTORY

   [8]

   "For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the
   victory that overcometh the world, even our faith. Who is he that
   overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of
   God I" 1 John 5:4-5.

   IT ought to be our practice, if we have any religion, to examine the
   state of our souls from time to time, and to find out whether we are
   "right in the sight of God" (Acts 8:21).

   Are we true Christians? Are we likely to go to heaven when we die? Are
   we born again,--born of the Spirit,--born of God? These are searching
   questions, which imperatively demand an answer; and the text which
   heads this paper will help us to give that answer. If we are born of
   God, we shall have one great mark of character, we shall" overcome the
   world."

   In opening up this subject, there are three points to which I propose
   to invite attention in this paper.

   I. In the first place, let us consider the name by which St. John
   describes a true Christian. He calls him six times over, in his First
   Epistle, a man "born of God," and once, "begotten of God."

   II. In the second place, let us consider the special mark which St.
   John supplies of a man born of God. He says that he "overcomes the
   world."

   III. In the last place, let us consider the secret of the true
   Christian's victory over the world. He says, "This is the victory that
   overcometh the world, even our faith."

   Let me clear the way by expressing an earnest hope that no reader will
   turn away from the subject before us, under the idea that it is a
   controversial one. I doubt whether any doctrine of the Bible has
   suffered so much from impatient dislike of controversy as that which is
   contained in the phrase, "Born of God." Yet that phrase contains a
   great foundation verity of Christianity, which can never be neglected
   without damage. Deep down, below strifes and contentions about the
   effect of baptism, and the meaning of liturgical services, there lies
   in those three words one of the primary rocks of the everlasting
   gospel, even the inward work of the Holy Ghost on the soul of man. The
   atoning work of Christ FOR us, and the sanctifying work of the Holy
   Ghost WITHIN US, are the two corner-stones of saving religion Surely a
   truth which the last writer of the New Testament brings forward no less
   than seven times in the five chapters of one Epistle,-a truth which he
   binds up seven times with some of the distinguishing characteristics of
   the Christian man,--such a truth ought not to be disliked or timidly
   passed by. Surely it may be handled profitably without entering upon
   debatable ground. I shall attempt so to handle it in this paper.

   I. First and foremost, I ask my readers to notice the name by which St.
   John describes a true Christian. Here, and in five other places, he
   speaks of him as one "born of God."

   Let us briefly analyze this rich and wonderful expression. The natural
   birth of any child of man, in the humblest rank of life, is an
   important event. It is the bringing into being of a creature who will
   outlive sun, moon, stars, and earth, and may one day develop a
   character which shall shake the world. How much more important must
   spiritual birth be! How much must lie beneath that figurative phrase,
   "Born of God!"

   (a) To be "born of God" is to be the SUBJECT OF AN INWARD CHANGE of
   heart, so complete, that it is like passing into a new existence. It is
   the introduction into the human soul of a seed from heaven, a new
   principle, a Divine nature, a new will. Certainly it is no outward
   bodily alteration; but it is no less certain that it is an entire
   alteration of the inward man. It adds no new faculties to our minds;
   but it gives an entirely new bent and bias to our old ones. The tastes
   and opinions of one " born of God," his views of sin, of the world, of
   the Bible, of God, and of Christ, are so thoroughly new, that he is to
   all intents and purposes what St. Paul calls "a new creature." In fact,
   as the Church Catechism truly says, it is "a death unto sin and a new
   birth unto righteousness."

   (b) To be "born of God" is a change which is THE PECULIAR GIFT OF THE
   LORD JESUS CHRIST to all His believing people. It is He who plants in
   their hearts the Spirit of adoption, whereby they cry, Abba Father, and
   makes them members of His mystical body, and sons and daughters of the
   Lord Almighty (Rom. 8:15). It is written: "He quickeneth whom He will."
   "As the Father hath life in Himself, so hath He given to the Son to
   have life in Himself" (John 5:21-26). In short, as the first chapter of
   St. John teaches, so it will be as long as the world stands: "To as
   many as received Him He gave power to become the sons of God, even to
   them that believe on His name; which were born not of blood, nor of the
   will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God" (John 1:12-13).

   (c) To be "born of God" is a change which unquestionably is VERY
   MYSTERIOUS. The Lord Jesus Christ Himself tells us that in well-known
   words: " The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound
   thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth; so
   is every one that is born of the Spirit." (John 3:8). But we must all
   confess there are a thousand things in the natural world around us
   which we cannot explain, and yet believe. We cannot explain how our
   wills act daily on our members, and make them move, or rest, at our
   discretion; yet no one ever thinks of disputing the fact. The wisest
   philosopher cannot tell us the origin of physical life. What right,
   then, have we to complain because we cannot comprehend the beginning of
   spiritual life in him that is" born of God"?

   (d) But to be "born of God" is a change which WILL ALWAYS BE SEEN AND
   FELT. I do not say that he who is the subject of it will invariably
   understand his own feelings. On the contrary, those feelings are often
   a cause of much anxiety, conflict, and inward strife. Nor do I say that
   a person "born of God" will always become at once an established
   Christian, a Christian in whose life and ways nothing weak and
   defective can be observed by others. But this I do say, the Holy Ghost
   never works in a person's soul without producing some perceptible
   results in character and conduct. The true grace of God is like light
   and fire: it cannot be hid; it is never idle; it never sleeps. I can
   find no such thing as "dormant" grace in Scripture. It is written,
   "Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin; for His seed remaineth
   in him: and he cannot sin, because he is born of God" (1 John 3:9).

   (e) To crown all, to be born of God is a thing which is of ABSOLUTE
   NECESSITY to our salvation. Without it we can neither know God rightly
   and serve Him acceptably in the life that now is, nor dwell with God
   comfortably in the life that is to come. There are two things which are
   indispensably needful before any child of Adam can be saved One is the
   forgiveness of his sins through the blood of Christ: the other is the
   renewal of his heart by the Spirit of Christ. Without the forgiveness
   we have no title to heaven: without the renewed heart we could not
   enjoy heaven. These two things are never separate. Every forgiven man
   is also a renewed man, and every renewed man is also a forgiven man.
   There are two standing maxims of the gospel which should never be
   forgotten: one is, "He that believeth not the Son shall not see life;"
   the other is, "If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of
   His" (John 3:36; Rom. 8:9). Quaint, but most true, is the old saying:
   "Once born, die twice, and die for ever; twice born, never die, and
   live for ever." Without a natural birth we should never have lived and
   moved on earth: without a spiritual birth we shall never live and dwell
   in heaven. It is written, "Except a man be born again, he cannot see
   the kingdom of God" (John 3:3).

   And now, before I pass away from the name which St. John gives in this
   text to the true Christian, let us not forget to ask ourselves what we
   know experimentally about being "born of God." Let us search and try
   our hearts with honest self-examination, and seek to find out whether
   there is any real work of the Holy Ghost in our inward man. Far be it
   from me to encourage the slightest approach to hypocrisy, self-conceit,
   and fanaticism. Nor do I want any one to look for that angelic
   perfection in himself on earth, which will only be found in heaven. All
   I say is, let us never be content with the " outward and visible signs"
   of Christianity, unless we also know something of 'inward and spiritual
   grace." All I ask, and I think I have a right to ask, is, that we
   should often take this First Epistle of St. John in our hands, and try
   to find out by its light whether we are "born of God."

   One more thing let me add, which I dare not leave unsaid. Let us never
   be ashamed, in a day of abounding heresy, to contend earnestly for the
   Godhead and personality of the Holy Ghost, and the reality of His work
   on souls. Just as we clasp to our hearts the doctrine of the Trinity,
   and the proper Deity of our Lord Jesus Christ, as great foundation
   verities of the gospel, so let us grasp tightly the truth about God the
   Holy Ghost. Let us ever give Him in our religion the place and dignity
   which Scripture assigns to Him. Wherever in the providence of God we
   may be called to worship, let our first inquiry be, "Where is the
   Lamb?" and our second, "Where is the Holy Ghost?" We know there have
   been many martyrs for Jesus Christ and the true doctrine of
   justification. "A day may come," said a remarkable saint, "when there
   will need to be martyrs for the Holy Ghost, and His work within the
   soul." Happy is he who can say with heart, as well as lips, the
   familiar words of our venerable Church Catechism,--" I believe in God
   the Father, who hath made me and all the world: I believe in God the
   Son, who hath redeemed me and all mankind: I believe in God the Holy
   Ghost, who sanctifieth me, and all the elect people of God."

   II. The second thing I will now ask my readers to notice in my text is,
   the special mark which St. John supplies of the man who is a true
   Christian. He says, "Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world."
   In short, to use the words of that holy man Bishop Wilson, Bishop of
   Sodor and Man, the Apostle teaches that "the only certain proof of
   regeneration is victory."

   We are all apt to flatter ourselves, that if we are duly enrolled
   members of that great ecclesiastical corporation the Church of England,
   our souls cannot be in much danger. We secretly stifle the voice of
   conscience with the comfortable thought, "I am a Churchman; why should
   I be afraid?"

   Yet common sense and a little reflection might remind us that there are
   no privileges without corresponding responsibilities. Before we repose
   in self-satisfied confidence on our Church membership, we shall do well
   to ask ourselves whether we bear in our characters the marks of living
   membership of Christ's mystical body. Do we know anything of renouncing
   the devil and all his works, and crucifying the flesh with its
   affections and lusts? And, to bring this matter to a point, as it is
   set before us in our text, do we know anything of" overcoming the
   world"?

   Of the three great spiritual enemies of man, it is hard to say which
   does most harm to the soul. The last day alone will settle that point.
   But I venture boldly to say, that at no former period has "the world"
   been so dangerous, and so successful in injuring Christ's Church, as it
   is just now. Every age is said to have its own peculiar epidemic
   disease. I suspect that "worldliness" is the peculiar plague of
   Christendom in our own era. That same love of the world's good things
   and good opinion,--that same dread of the world's opposition and
   blame,--which proved so fatal to Judas Iscariot, and Demas, and many
   more in the beginning of the gospel,--each is just as powerful in the
   nineteenth century as it was in the first, and a hundred times more.
   Even in days of persecution, under heathen emperors, these spiritual
   enemies slew their thousands, and in days of ease, and luxury, and free
   thought, like our own, they slay their tens of thousands. The subtle
   influence of the world, nowadays, seems to infect the very air we
   breathe. It creeps into families like an angel of light, and leads
   myriads captive, who never know that they are slaves. The enormous
   increase of English wealth, and consequent power of self-indulgence,
   and the immense growth of a passionate taste for recreations and
   amusements of all kinds; the startling rise and progress of a so-called
   liberality of opinion, which refuses to say anybody is wrong, whatever
   he does, and loudly asserts that, as in the days of the Judges, every
   one should think and do what is right in his own eyes, and never be
   checked, mall these strange phenomena of our age give the world an
   amazing additional power, and make it doubly needful for Christ's
   ministers to cry aloud, "Beware of the world!"

   In the face of this aggravated danger, we must never forget that the
   word of the living God changes not. "Love not the world,"--" Be not
   conformed to this world,"---"The friendship of the world is enmity with
   God,"--these mighty sayings of God's statute-book remain still
   unrepealed (1 John 2:15; Rom. 12:2; Jas. 4:4). The true Christian
   strives daily to obey them, and proves the vitality of his religion by
   his obedience. It is as true now as it was eighteen hundred years ago,
   that the man "born of God" will be a man who, more or less, resists and
   overcomes the world. Such a man does not "overcome" by retiring into a
   corner, and becoming a monk or a hermit, but by boldly meeting his foes
   and conquering them. He does not refuse to fill his place in society,
   and do his duty in that position to which God has called him. But
   though "in" the world, he is not "of" the world. He uses it, but does
   not abuse it. He knows when to say No, when to refuse compliance, when
   to halt, when to say, "Hitherto have I gone, but I go no further." He
   is not wholly absorbed either in the business or the pleasures of life,
   as if they were the sum total of existence. Even in innocent things he
   keeps the rein on his tastes and inclinations, and does not let them
   run away with him. He does not live as if life was made up of
   recreation, or money-getting, or politics, or scientific pursuits, and
   as if there were no life to come. Everywhere, and in every condition,
   in public and in private, in business or in amusements, he carries
   himself like a " citizen of a better country," and as one who is not
   entirely dependent on temporal things. Like the noble Roman ambassador
   before Pyrrhus, he is alike unmoved by the elephant or by the gold. You
   will neither bribe him, nor frighten him, nor allure him into
   neglecting his soul. This is one way in which the true Christian proves
   the reality of his Christianity. This is the way in which the man "born
   of God" overcomes the world.

   I am fully aware that, at first sight, the things I have just said may
   appear "hard sayings." The standard of true Christianity which I have
   just raised may seem extravagant, and extreme, and unattainable in this
   life. I grant most freely that to "overcome" in the fashion I have
   described needs a constant fight and struggle, and that all such
   fighting is naturally unpleasant to flesh and blood. It is disagreeable
   to find ourselves standing alone every now and then, and running
   counter to the opinions of all around us. We do not like to appear
   narrow-minded, and exclusive, and uncharitable, and ungenial, and
   ill-natured, and out of harmony with our fellows. We naturally love
   ease and popularity, and hate collisions in religion, and if we hear we
   cannot be true Christians without all this fighting and warring, we are
   tempted to say to ourselves, "I will give it up in despair." I speak
   from bitter experience. I have known and felt all this myself.

   To all who are tempted in this way,--and none, I believe, are so much
   tempted as the young,--to all who are disposed to shrink back from any
   effort to overcome the world, as a thing impossible, rote all such I
   offer a few words of friendly exhortation. Before you turn your back on
   the enemy, and openly confess that he is too strong for you,--before
   you bow down to the strong man, and let him place his foot on your
   neck, let me put you in remembrance of some things which, perhaps, you
   are forgetting.

   Is not the world, then, one of the three great foes which you were
   solemnly bound at baptism to resist? Was it for nothing that these
   words were read, "We sign him with the sign of the cross, in token that
   hereafter he shall not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ
   crucified, and manfully to fight under His banner against sin, THE
   WORLD, and the devil, and to continue Christ's soldier and servant unto
   his life's end"? And is it really come to this, that you mean to
   renounce your obligations, and retire from your Master's service, to
   desert your colours, to slink away to the rear, and refuse to fight?

   Again, is it not true that myriads of men and women, no stronger than
   yourself, have fought this battle with the world, and won it? Think of
   the mighty hosts of Christian soldiers who have walked in the narrow
   way in the last eighteen centuries, and proved more than conquerors.
   The same Divine Captain, the same armour, the same helps and aids by
   which they overcame, are ready for you. Surely if they got the victory,
   you may hope to do the same.

   Again, is it not true that this fight with the world is a thing of
   absolute necessity? Does not our Master say, "Whosoever doth not bear
   his cross, and come after Me, cannot be My disciple"? (Luke 14:27). "I
   came not to send peace on earth, but a sword" (Matt. 10:34). Here, at
   any rate, we cannot remain neutral, and sit still. Such a line of
   conduct may be possible in the strife of nations, but it is utterly
   impossible in that conflict which concerns the soul. The boasted policy
   of non-interference, the masterly inactivity" which pleases so many
   statesmen, the plan of keeping quiet and letting things alone,--all
   this will never do in the Christian warfare. To be at peace with the
   world, the flesh, and the devil, is to be at enmity with God, and in
   the broad way that leadeth to destruction. We have no choice or option.
   The promises to the Seven Churches in Revelation are only "to him that
   overcometh." We must fight or be lost. We must conquer or die
   eternally. We must put on the whole armour of God. "He that hath no
   sword, let him sell his garment and buy one" (Eph. 6:11; Luke 22:36).

   Surely, in the face of such considerations as these, I may well charge
   and entreat all who are inclined to make peace with the world, and not
   resist it, to awake to a sense of their danger. Awake and cast aside
   the chains which indolence or love of popularity are gradually weaving
   round you. Awake before it is too late,--before repeated worldly acts
   have formed habits, and habits have crystallized into character, and
   you have become a helpless slave. When men on every side are
   volunteering for war, and ready to go forth to battle for a corruptible
   crown, stand up and resolve to do it for one that is incorruptible. The
   world is not so strong an enemy as you think, if you will only meet it
   boldly, and use the right weapons. The fancied difficulties will
   vanish, or melt away like snow, as you approach them. The lions you now
   dread will prove chained. Hundreds could tell you that they served the
   world for years, and found at last that its rewards were hollow and
   unreal, and its so-called good things could neither satisfy nor save.
   Cardinal Wolsey's dying words are only the language of ten thousand
   hearts at this minute,---

   "Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
   I feel my heart is opened.-
   Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
   I serv'd my king, He would not, in mine age,
   Have left me naked to mine enemies."

   But who, on the other hand, ever fought God's battle manfully against
   the world and failed to find a rich reward? No doubt the experience of
   Christian pilgrims is very various, Not all have "an abundant entrance"
   into the kingdom, and some are "saved so as by fire" (2 Pet. 1:11; 1
   Cor. 3:15). But none, I am persuaded, have such joy and peace in
   believing, and travel to the celestial city with such light hearts, as
   those who come out boldly, and overcome the love and fear of the world.
   Such men the King of kings delights to honour while they live; and when
   they die, their testimony is that of old Bunyan's hero, Valiant,--" I
   am going to my Father's house; and though with great difficulty I have
   got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the troubles I have been
   at to arrive where I am."

   III. The third and last thing which I shall ask you to notice in this
   text is, the secret of the true Christian's victory over the world. St.
   John reveals that secret to us twice over, as if he would emphasize his
   meaning, and make it unmistakable: "This is the victory that overcometh
   the world, even our FAITH. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he
   that BELIEVETH that Jesus is the Son of God?"

   Simplicity is a distinguishing characteristic of many of God's
   handiworks. "How beautifully simple!" has often been the philosopher's
   cry, on finding out some great secret of nature. Simplicity is the
   striking feature of the principle by which the man "born of God"
   overcomes the world. Perhaps he hardly understands it himself. But he
   is what he is, and does what he does, acts as he acts, behaves as he
   behaves, for one simple reason, he BELIEVES. He realizes the existence
   of unseen objects, compared to which the frowns or smiles, the favour
   or blame of the world, are trifles light as air. God, and heaven, and
   judgment, and eternity, are not "words and names" with him, but vast
   and substantial realities; and the faith of them makes everything else
   look shadowy and unreal. But, towering far above all other objects, he
   sees by faith an unseen Saviour, who loved him, gave Himself for him,
   paid his debt to God with His own precious blood, went to the grave for
   him, rose again, and appears in heaven for him as his Advocate with the
   Father. SEEING HIM, he feels constrained to love Him first and
   foremost, to set his chief affection on things above, not on things on
   the earth, and to live not for himself, but for Him who died for him.
   SEEING HIM, he fears not to face the world's displeasure, and fights on
   with a firm confidence that he will be "more than conqueror." In short,
   it is the expulsive power of a new principle, a living faith in an
   unseen God and an unseen Jesus, that minimizes the difficulties of a
   true Christian, drives away the fear of man, and overcomes the world.

   This is the principle that made the Apostles what they were after the
   day of Pentecost. When Peter and John stood before the Council, and
   spoke in such fashion that all men marvelled at their boldness, their
   vivid faith saw One higher than Annas and Caiaphas and their
   companions, who would never forsake them. When Saul, converted and
   renewed, gave up all his brilliant prospects among his own nation, to
   become a preacher of the gospel he had once despised, he saw far away,
   by faith, One that was invisible, who could give him a hundredfold more
   in this present life, and in the world to come life everlasting. These
   all overcame by FAITH.

   This is the principle which made the primitive Christians hold fast
   their religion even to death, unshaken by the fiercest persecution of
   heathen emperors. They were often unlearned and ignorant men, and saw
   many things through a glass darkly. But their so-called "obstinacy"
   astonished even philosophers like Pliny.

   For centuries there were never wanting men like Polycarp and Ignatius,
   who were ready to die rather than to deny Christ. Fines, and prisons,
   and torture, and fire, and sword failed to crush the spirit of the
   noble army of martyrs. The whole power of imperial Rome, with her
   legions, proved unable to stamp out the religion which began with a few
   fishermen and publicans in Palestine. They overcame by FAITH.

   This is the principle that made our own Reformers in the sixteenth
   century endure hardships even unto death, rather than withdraw their
   protest against the Church of Rome. Many of them, no doubt, like
   Rogers, and Philpot, and Bradford, might have enjoyed rich preferments
   and died quietly in their beds, if they would only have recanted. But
   they chose rather to suffer affliction, and strong in faith, died at
   the stake. This was the principle that made the rank and file of our
   English martyrs in the same age--labourers, artisans, and
   apprentices--yield their bodies to be burned. Poor and uneducated as
   they were, they were rich in faith; and if they could not speak for
   Christ, they could die for Him. These all overcame by BELIEVING.

   But time would fail me if I brought forward all the evidence that might
   be adduced on this subject. Let us look at our own age. Let us consider
   the men who have made the greatest mark on the world for Christ's cause
   in the last hundred years. Let us remember how clergymen like
   Whitefield, and Wesley, and Romaine, and Venn stood alone in their day
   and generation, and revived English religion, in the face of
   opposition, slander, ridicule, and real persecution from nine-tenths of
   the professing Christians in our land. Let us remember how men like
   William Wilberforce, and Havelock, and Henry Lawrence, and Hedley
   Vicars, and George Moore, the Christian merchant, have witnessed for
   Christ in the most difficult positions, and displayed Christ's banner
   even in the House of Commons, in the camp, at the regimental mess
   table, or in the counting-house in the city. Let us remember how these
   noble servants of God were neither frightened nor laughed out of their
   religion, and won the respect even of their adversaries. These all had
   one principle. "Give me," said that strange dictator who rode
   rough-shod over England's Church and Crown in the seventeenth century,
   "Give me men that have a principle." These Christian soldiers of our
   own day had a principle, and that ruling principle was faith in an
   unseen God and Saviour. By this faith they lived, and walked, and
   fought the good fight, and overcame.

   Does any one who reads this paper desire to live the life of a true
   Christian, and overcome the world? Let him begin by seeking to have the
   principle of victory within. Without this, all outward show of
   spirituality is utterly worthless. There is many a worldly heart under
   a monk's cowl. Faith, inward faith, is the one thing needful. Let him
   begin by praying for FAITH. It is the gift of God, and a gift which
   those who ask shall never ask in vain. The fountain of faith is not yet
   dry. The mine is not exhausted. He who is called the "Author of faith"
   is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever; and waits to be entreated
   (Heb. 12:2). Without faith you will never war a good warfare, never set
   down your foot firmly, never make progress on the ice of this slippery
   world. You must believe if you would do. If men do nothing in religion,
   and sit still like uninterested spectators of a show, it is simply
   because they do not believe. Faith is the first step towards heaven.

   Would any one who reads this paper fight the Christian battle with
   constantly increasing success and prosperity? Then let him pray daily
   for a continual growth of faith. Let him abide in Christ, get closer to
   Christ, tighten his hold on Christ every day that he lives. Let him
   never forget the prayer of the disciples, "Lord, increase our faith."
   Let him watch jealously over his faith, and never let its fire burn
   low. According to the degree of his faith will be the measure of his
   peace, his strength, and his victory over the world.

   (a) And now let us leave the whole subject with the solemn
   self-inquiry, "What do we know of that great test of religion which
   this text supplies? What do we know of overcoming the world?. Where are
   we? What are we doing? Whose are we, and whom do we serve? Are we
   overcoming or being overcome?" Alas, it is a sorrowful fact, that many
   know not whether they are Christ's freemen or the world's slaves! The
   fetters of the world are often invisible. We are dragged downward
   insensibly, and are like one who sleeps in a boat, and knows not that
   he is drifting, gently drifting, towards the falls. There is no slavery
   so bad as that which is unfelt. There are no chains so really heavy as
   those which are unseen. Wise is that petition in our matchless Litany:
   "From all the deceits of the world, good Lord, deliver us."

   I press this inquiry in all affection on my younger readers. You are
   just at that generous and unsuspecting age when the world seems least
   dangerous and most inviting, and it stands to reason you are most
   likely to be ensnared and overcome. Experience alone can make you see
   the enemy in his true colours. When you have as many grey hairs on your
   heads as I have, you will place a very different estimate on the good
   things, or the praise or the hatred of this world. But, even now,
   remember my caution: "If you love your souls, hold the world at arm's
   length. Beware of the world."

   (b) Reader, you and I meet over this paper for once in our lives, and
   are parting in all probability to meet no more. You are perhaps
   launching forth on the waves of this troublesome world. My heart's
   desire and prayer to God is, that you may have a prosperous voyage, and
   be found at length in the safe haven of eternal life. But, oh, take
   heed that you are well equipped for the stormy waters you have to
   cross, and see that you have a compass to steer by, that you can depend
   on, and a pilot who will not fail! Beware of making shipwreck by
   conformity to the world. Alas, how many put to sea in gallant trim,
   with colours flying, and brilliant prospects, and are lost at last with
   all on board! They seem at first to begin with Moses, and Daniel, and
   the saints in Nero's household; but they end at last with Balaam, and
   Demas, and Lot's wife! Oh, remember the pilot and the compass! No
   compass like the Bible. No pilot like Christ!

   Take the advice I give you, as a friend, this day. Ask the Lord Jesus
   Christ to come and dwell in your heart by faith, and to "deliver you
   from this present evil world" (Gal. 1:4). Ask Him to pour out His
   promised Spirit on you, and to make you willing to bear His easy yoke
   without further delay, and to resist the world. Strive, in the strength
   of Christ, to get the victory over the world, whatever it may cost you.
   Be ashamed of being a slave, however gilded the chains may be. Be
   ashamed of the mark of the collar. Resolve to play the man and be free.
   Liberty is the greatest of blessings, and deserves the greatest
   struggles. Well said the Jewish rabbis in ancient days, "If the sea
   were ink, and the earth parchment, it would never serve to describe the
   praises of liberty." For freedom's sake, Greeks, and Romans, and
   Germans, and Poles, and Swiss, and Scotchmen, and Englishmen, have
   often cheerfully fought to the bitter end, and laid down their lives.
   Surely, if men have made such sacrifices for the freedom of their
   bodies, it is a disgrace to professing Christians if they will not
   fight for the liberty of their souls. This day, I repeat, resolve in
   the strength of Christ, that you will fight the good fight against the
   world; and not only fight, but overcome. "If the Son shall make you
   free, you shall be free indeed" (John 8:36).

   (c) Finally, let us all remember that the Christian soldier's best time
   is yet to come. Here, in this world, we are often "sore let and
   hindered" in our warfare. There are many hard things to be done and
   borne. Them are wounds and bruises; there are watchings and fatigues;
   there are reverses and disappointments. But the end of all things is at
   hand. For those who "overcome" there will be a conqueror's crown.

   In the warfare of this world, the muster on the morning after a victory
   is often a sorrowful sight. I pity the man who could look at Miss
   Thompson's famous picture of The Roll-call without deep emotion. Even
   when peace is proclaimed, the return of victorious regiments is an
   occasion of very mingled feelings. That man must have had a cold heart
   who could see the Guards march back into London after the Crimean war
   without a sigh or a tear.

   Thanks be to God, the review day of Christ's victorious army will be a
   very different thing. There will be none missing in that day. It will
   be a meeting without regret. It will be "a morning without clouds" and
   tears It will make rich amends for all we have suffered in resisting
   and overcoming the world.

   He who saw our gracious Queen distributing the Victoria Cross at the
   Horse Guards during the Russian war might well be stirred and moved at
   the sight. But he who saw her come down from her seat to meet a wounded
   officer who could not walk, and, with her own royal hands, pin his
   decoration on his breast, will probably remember it as long as he
   lives.

   But, after all, it was nothing compared to the transactions of that
   great day, when the Captain of our salvation and His victorious
   soldiers shall at length meet face to face. What tongue can tell the
   happiness of that time when we shall lay aside our armour, and "say to
   the sword, Rest, and be still!" What mind can conceive the blessedness
   of that hour when we shall see the King in His beauty, and hear these
   words, "Well done, good and faithful servant and soldier, enter thou
   into the joy of thy Lord"? For that glorious day let us wait patiently,
   for it cannot be far off. In the hope of it let us work, and watch, and
   pray, and fight on, and resist the world. And let us never forget our
   Captain's words: " In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of
   good cheer; I have overcome the world" (John 16:33).
     __________________________________________________________________

   [8] The substance of this paper was originally preached as a sermon in
   St. Mary's Church, Cambridge, when I was select preacher, in 1879.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IX
  Acts 17:16-17.
  ATHENS.

   [9]

   "Now, while Paul waited for them at Athens, his spirit was stirred in
   him, when he saw the city wholly given to idolatry." Therefore disputed
   he in the synagogue with the Jews, and with the devout persons, and in
   the market daily with them that met with him." --Acts 17:16-17.

   PERHAPS the reader of this paper lives in a town or city, and sees more
   of bricks and mortar than of green fields. Perhaps you have some
   relative or friend living in a town, about whom you naturally feel a
   deep interest. In either case, the verses of Scripture which head tiffs
   page demand your best attention. Give me that attention for a few short
   minutes while I try to show you the lessons which the passage contains.

   You see face to face, in the verses before you, no common city and no
   common man.

   The city is the famous city Athens,--Athens, renowned to this very day
   for its statesmen, philosophers, historians, poets, painters, and
   architects,--Athens, the eye of ancient Greece, as ancient Greece was
   the eye of the heathen world.

   The man is the great Apostle of the Gentiles, St. Paul, St. Paul, the
   most laborious and successful minister and missionary the world has
   ever seen,--St. Paul, who by pen and tongue has left a deeper mark on
   mankind than any born of woman, except his Divine Master.

   Athens and St. Paul, the great servant of Christ, and the great
   stronghold of old heathenism-- are brought before us face to face. The
   result is told us: the interview is carefully described. The subject, I
   venture to think, is eminently suited to the times in which we live,
   and to the circumstances of many a dweller in London, Liverpool,
   Manchester, and other great English towns in the present day.

   Without further preface, I ask you to observe three things in this
   passage:--

   I. What St. Paul saw at Athens.

   II. What St. Paul FELT at Athens.

   III. What St. Paul DID at Athens.

   I. First, then, What did St. Paul SEE at Athens?

   The answer of the text is clear and unmistakable. He saw a "city wholly
   given to idolatry." Idols met his eyes in every street. The temples of
   idol gods and goddesses occupied every prominent position. The
   magnificent statue of Minerva, at least forty feet high, according to
   Pliny, towered above the Acropolis, and caught the eye from every
   point. A vast system of idol-worship overspread the whole place, and
   thrust itself everywhere on his notice. The ancient writer Pausanias
   expressly says, that "the Athenians surpassed all states in the
   attention which they paid to the worship of the gods." In short, the
   city, as the marginal reading says, was "full of idols."

   And yet this city, I would have you remember, was probably the most
   favourable specimen of a heathen city which St. Paul could have seen.
   In proportion to its size, it very likely contained the most learned,
   civilized, philosophical, highly educated, artistic, intellectual
   population on the face of the globe. But what was it in a religious
   point of view? The city of wise men like Socrates and Plato,--the city
   of Solon, and Pericles, and Demosthenes,-the city of AEschylus,
   Sophocles, Euripides, and Thucydides,--the city of mind, and intellect,
   and art, and taste,--this city was "wholly given to idolatry." If the
   true God was unknown at Athens, what must He have been in the darker
   places of the earth? If the eye of Greece was so spiritually dim, what
   must have been the condition of such places as Babylon, Ephesus, Tyre,
   Alexandria, Corinth, and even of Rome? If men were so far gone from the
   light in a green tree, what must they have been in the dry?

   What shall we say to these things? What are the conclusions to which we
   are irresistibly drawn by them?

   Ought we not to learn, for one thing, the absolute need of a Divine
   revelation, and of teaching from heaven? Leave man without a Bible, and
   he will have a religion of some kind, for human nature, corrupt as it
   is, must have a God. But it will be a religion without light, or peace,
   or hope.

   "The world by wisdom knew not God" (1 Cor. 1:21). Old Athens is a
   standing lesson which we shall do well to observe. It is vain to
   suppose that nature, unaided by revelation, will ever lead fallen man
   to nature's God. Without a Bible, the Athenian bowed down to stocks and
   stones, and worshipped the work of his own hands. Place a heathen
   philosopher, a Stoic or an Epicurean, --by the side of an open grave,
   and ask him about a world to come, and he could have told you nothing
   certain, satisfactory, or peace-giving.

   Ought we not to learn, for another thing, that the highest intellectual
   training is no security against utter darkness in religion? We cannot
   doubt that mind and reason were highly educated at Athens, if anywhere
   in the heathen world. The students of Greek philosophy were not
   unlearned and ignorant men. They were well versed in logic, ethics,
   rhetoric, history, and poetry. But all this mental discipline did not
   prevent their city being a "city wholly given to idolatry." And are we
   to be told in the nineteenth century, that reading, writing,
   arithmetic, mathematics, history, languages, and physical science,
   without a knowledge of the Scriptures, are sufficient to constitute
   education? God forbid! We have not so learned Christ. It may please
   some men to idolize intellectual power, and to speak highly of the debt
   which the world owes to the Greek mind. One thing, at any rate, is
   abundantly clear. Without the knowledge which the Holy Ghost revealed
   to the Hebrew nation, old Greece would have left the world buried in
   dark idolatry. A follower of Socrates or Plato might have talked well
   and eloquently on many subjects, but he could have never answered the
   jailor's question, "What must I do to be saved?" (Acts 16:30). He could
   never have said in his last hour, "O death, where is thy sting? O
   grave, where is thy victory?"

   Ought we not to learn, for another thing, that the highest excellence
   in the material arts is no preservative against the grossest
   superstition? The perfection of Athenian architecture and sculpture is
   a great and undeniable fact. The eyes of St. Paul at Athens beheld many
   a "thing of beauty" which is still "a joy for ever" to artistic minds.
   And yet the men who conceived and executed the splendid buildings of
   Athens were utterly ignorant of the one true God. The world nowadays is
   well-nigh drunk with" self conceit about our so-called progress in arts
   and sciences. Men talk and write of machinery and manufactures, as if
   nothing were impossible. But let it never be forgotten that the highest
   art or mechanical skill is consistent with a state of spiritual death
   in religion. Athens, the city of Phidias, was a "city wholly given to
   idolatry." An Athenian sculptor might have designed a matchless tomb,
   but he could not have wiped a single tear from a mourner's eye.

   These things ought not to be forgotten. They ought to be carefully
   pondered. They suit the times in which we live. We have fallen on a
   sceptical and an unbelieving age. We meet on every side with doubts and
   questionings about the truth and value of revelation. "Is not reason
   alone sufficient?" "Is the Bible really needful to make men wise unto
   salvation?" "Has not man a light within, a verifying power, able to
   guide him to truth and God?" Such are the inquiries which fall thick as
   hail around us. Such are the speculations which disquiet many unstable
   minds.

   One plain answer is an appeal to facts. The remains of heathen Egypt,
   Greece, and Rome shall speak for us. They are preserved by God's
   providence to this very day as monuments of what intellect and reason
   can do without revelation. The minds which designed the temples of
   Luxor and Carnac, or the Parthenon or Coliseum, were not the minds of
   fools. The builders who executed their designs did better and more
   lasting work than any contractor can do in modern times. The men who
   conceived the sculptured friezes, which we know as the Elgin Marbles,
   were trained and intellectual to the highest degree. And yet in
   religion these men were darkness itself (Eph. 5:8). The sight which St.
   Paul saw at Athens is an unanswerable proof that man knows nothing
   which can do his soul good without a Divine revelation.

   II. I ask you to notice, in the second place, what St. Paul FELT at
   Athens. He saw a "city wholly given to idolatry." How did the sight
   affect him? What did he feel?

   It is instructive to observe how the same sight affects different
   people. Place two men on the same spot; let them stand side by side;
   let the same objects be presented to their eyes. The emotions called
   forth in the one man will often be wholly different from those called
   forth in the other. The thoughts which will be wakened up and brought
   to birth will often be as far as the poles asunder.

   A mere artist visiting Athens for the first time would doubtless have
   been absorbed in the beauty of its buildings. A statesman or orator
   would have called up the memory of Pericles or Demosthenes. A literary
   man would have thought of Thucydides and Sophocles and Plato. A
   merchant would have gazed on the Piraeus, its harbour, and the sea. But
   an Apostle of Christ had far higher thoughts. One thing, above all
   others, swallowed up his attention, and made all else look small. That
   one thing was the spiritual condition of the Athenian people, the state
   of their souls. The great Apostle of the Gentiles was eminently a man
   of one thing. Like his Divine Master, he was always thinking of his
   "Father's business" (Luke 2:49). He stood at Athens, and thought of
   nothing so much as Athenian souls. Like Moses, Phinehas, and Elijah,
   "his spirit was stirred within him when he saw the city wholly given to
   idolatry."

   Of all sights on earth, I know none so impressive, none so calculated
   to arouse thought in a reflecting mind, as the sight of a great city.
   The daily intercourse of man with man, which a city naturally produces,
   seems to sharpen intellect, and stimulate mental activity to an extent
   which dwellers in rural parishes, or other solitary places, cannot
   realize. Rightly or wrongly, the inhabitant of a city thinks twice as
   much, and twice as quickly, as the inhabitant of a rural village. It is
   the city "where Satan's seat is" (Rev. 2:13). It is the city where evil
   of every kind is most rapidly conceived, sown, ripened, and brought to
   maturity.- It is the city where the young man, leaving home, and
   launching into life, becomes soonest hardened, and conscience-seared by
   daily familiarity with the sight of sin.--It is the city where
   sensuality, intemperance, and worldly amusements of the vilest kind
   flourish most rankly, and find a congenial atmosphere.-It is the city
   where ungodliness and irreligion meet with the greatest encouragement,
   and the unhappy Sabbath-breaker, or neglecter of all means of grace,
   can fortify himself behind the example of others, and enjoy the
   miserable comfort of feeling that "he does not stand alone!"--It is the
   city which is the chosen home of every form of superstition,
   ceremonialism, enthusiasm, and fanaticism in religion.--It is the city
   which is the hotbed of every kind of false philosophy, of Stoicism,
   Epicureanism, Agnosticism, Secularism, Scepticism, Positivism,
   Infidelity, and Atheism.--It is the city where that greatest of modern
   inventions, the printing-press, that mighty power for good and evil, is
   ever working with unsleeping activity, and pouring forth new matter for
   thought.--It is the city where the daffy newspapers are continually
   supplying food for minds, and moulding and guiding public opinion.--It
   is the city which is the centre of all national business. The banks,
   the law-courts, the Stock Exchange, the Parliament or Assembly, are all
   bound up with the city.--It is the city which, by magnetic influence,
   draws together the rank and fashion of the land, and gives the tone to
   the tastes and ways of society.--It is the city which practically
   controls the destiny of a nation. Scattered millions, in rural
   districts, without habitual concert or contact, are powerless before
   the thousands who dwell side by side and exchange thought every day. It
   is the towns which govern a land. I pity the man who could stand on the
   top of St. Paul's Cathedral, and look down on London without some
   emotion, and not reflect that he sees the heart whose pulsations are
   felt over the whole civilized globe. And shall I wonder for a moment
   that the sight of Athens "stirred the spirit" of such a man as the
   great Apostle of the Gentiles? I cannot wonder at all. It was just the
   sight which was likely to move the heart of the converted man of
   Tarsus, the man who wrote the Epistle to the Romans, and had seen Jesus
   Christ face to face.

   He was stirred with holy compassion. It moved his heart to see so many
   myriads perishing for lack of knowledge, without God, without Christ,
   having no hope, travelling in the broad road which leadeth to
   destruction.

   He was stirred with holy sorrow. It moved his heart to see so much
   talent misapplied. Here were hands capable of excellent works, and
   minds capable of noble conceptions. And yet the God who gave life and
   breath and power was not glorified.

   He was stirred with holy indignation against sin and the devil. He saw
   the god of this world blinding the eyes of multitudes of his
   fellow-men, and leading them captive at his will. He saw the natural
   corruption of man infecting the population of a vast city like one
   common disease, and an utter absence of any spiritual medicine,
   antidote, or remedy.

   He was stirred with holy zeal for His Master's glory. He saw the
   "strong man armed" keeping a house which was not lawfully his, and
   shutting out the rightful possessor. He saw his Divine Master unknown
   and unrecognised by His own creatures, and idols receiving the homage
   due to the King of kings.

   Reader, these feelings which stirred the Apostle are a leading
   characteristic of a man born of the Spirit. Do you know anything of
   them? Where there is true grace, there will always be tender concern
   for the souls of others. Where there is true sonship to God, there will
   always be zeal for the Father's glory. It is written of the ungodly,
   that they not only commit things worthy of death, but "have pleasure in
   them that do them" (Rom. 1:32). It may be said with equal truth of the
   godly, that they not only mourn over sin in their own hearts, but mourn
   over sin in others.

   Hear what is written of Lot in Sodom: "He vexed his soul from day to
   day with their unlawful deeds" (2 Pet. 2:8). Hear what is written of
   David: "Rivers of water run down mine eyes, because they keep not Thy
   law" (Psalms 119:136). Hear what is written of the godly in Ezekiel's
   time: "They sigh and cry for all the abominations that be done in the
   midst of the land" (Ezek. 9:4). Hear what is written of our Lord and
   Saviour Himself: "He beheld the city, and wept over it" (Luke 19:41).
   Surely it may be laid down as one of the first principles of Scriptural
   religion, that he who can behold sin without sorrowful feelings has not
   the mind of the Spirit. This is one of those things in which the
   children of God are manifest, and are distinguished from the children
   of the devil.

   I call the special attention of my readers to this point. The times
   demand that we look it fully in the face. The feelings with which we
   regard sin, heathenism, and irreligion are a subject of vast importance
   in the present day.

   I ask you, first, to look outside our own country, and consider the
   state of the heathen world. At least six hundred millions of immortal
   beings are at this moment sunk in ignorance, superstition, and
   idolatry. They live and die without God, without Christ, and without
   hope. In sickness and sorrow they have no comfort. In old age and death
   they have no life beyond the grave. Of the true way of peace through a
   Redeemer, of God's love in Christ, of free grace, of complete
   absolution from guilt, of a resurrection to life eternal, they have no
   knowledge. For long weary centuries they have been waiting for the
   tardy movements of the Church of Christ, while Christians have been
   asleep, or wasting their energies on useless controversies, and
   squabbling and wrangling about forms and ceremonies. Is not this a
   sight which ought to "stir the spirit?"

   I ask you, next, to turn back to our own land, and consider the state
   of our great cities There are districts in our great metropolis, in
   Liverpool, in Manchester, in Birmingham, in the Black Country, where
   Christianity seems practically unknown. Examine the religious condition
   of East London, or of Southwark, or Lambeth. Walk through the north end
   of Liverpool on Saturday evening, or Sunday, or on a Bank Holiday, and
   see how Sabbath-breaking, intemperance, and general ungodliness appear
   to rule and reign uncontrolled. "When the strong man armed keepeth his
   palace, his goods are in peace" (Luke 11:21). And then remember that
   this state of things exists in a professedly Christian country, in a
   land where there is an Established Church, and within a few hours of
   Oxford and Cambridge! Once more I say, ought not these things to "stir"
   our hearts

   It is a sorrowful fact, that there is around us in the present day a
   generation of men who regard heathenism, infidelity, and irreligion
   with apathy, coolness, and indifference? They care nothing for
   Christian missions either at home or abroad. They see no necessity for
   them. They take no interest in the Evangelistic work of any Church or
   society. They treat all alike with undisguised contempt. They despise
   Exeter Hall They never give subscriptions. They never attend meetings.
   They never read a missionary report. They seem to think that every man
   shall be saved by his own law or sect, if he is only sincere; and that
   one religion is as good as another, if those who profess it are only in
   earnest. They are fond of decrying and running down all spiritual
   machinery or missionary operations. They are constantly asserting that
   modern missions at home or abroad do nothing, and that those who
   support them are little better than weak enthusiasts. Judging by their
   language, they appear to think that the world receives no benefit from
   missions and aggressive Christian movements, and that it would be a
   better way to leave the world alone What shall we say to these men?
   They meet us on every side. They are to be heard in every society. To
   sit by, and sneer, and criticise, and do nothing, this is apparently
   their delight and vocation. What shall we say to them?

   Let us tell them plainly, if they will only hear us, that they are
   utterly opposed to the Apostle St. Paul. Let us show them that mighty
   model of a Christian missionary walking the streets of Athens, and
   "stirred" in spirit at the sight of a "city wholly given to idolatry."
   Let us ask them why they do not feel as he felt, about the idolatry of
   China and Hindustan, of Africa and the South Seas, or about the
   semi-heathen districts of London, Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham,
   and the Black Country. Let us ask them whether 1800 years have made any
   difference in the nature of God, the necessities of fallen man, the
   sinfulness of idol-worship, and the duty of Christians. We shall ask in
   vain for a reasonable answer: we shall get none. Sneers at our weakness
   are no argument against our principles. Jests at our infirmities and
   failures are no proof that our aims are wrong. Yes; they may have the
   wit and wisdom of this world upon their side; but the eternal
   principles of the New Testament are written clearly, plainly, and
   unmistakably. So long as the Bible is the Bible, charity to souls is
   one of the first of Christian graces, and it is a solemn duty to feel
   for the souls of the heathen, and of all unconverted people. He who
   knows nothing of this feeling has yet to become a learner in Christ's
   school. He who despises this feeling is not a successor of St. Paul,
   but a follower of him who said, "Am I my brother's keeper? "--even of
   Cain.

   III. I ask my readers to observe, in the last place, what St. Paul DID
   at Athens. What he saw you have heard; what he felt you have been told;
   but how did he act?

   He did something. He was not the man to stand still, and "confer with
   flesh and blood" in the face of a city full of idols. He might have
   reasoned with himself that he stood alone, that he was a Jew by birth,
   that he was a stranger in a strange land,--that he had to oppose the
   rooted prejudices and old associations of learned men, that to attack
   the old religion of a whole city was to beard a lion in his den, that
   the doctrines of the gospel were little likely to be effective on minds
   steeped in Greek philosophy. But none of these thoughts seem to have
   crossed the mind of St. Paul. He saw souls perishing; he felt that life
   was short, and time passing away; he had confidence in the power of his
   Master's message to meet every man's soul; he had received mercy
   himself, and knew not how to hold his peace. He acted at once; and what
   his hand found to do, he did with his might. Oh that we had more men of
   action in these days!

   And he did what he did with holy wisdom as well as holy boldness. He
   commenced aggressive measures alone, and waited not for companions and
   helpers. But he commenced them with consummate skill, and in a manner
   most likely to obtain a footing for the gospel. First, we are told, he
   disputed "with the Jews" in the synagogue, and the "devout persons" or
   proselytes who attended the Jewish worship. Afterwards he went on to
   "dispute," or hold discussions, "in the market daily with them that met
   with him." He advanced step by step like an experienced general. Here,
   as elsewhere, St. Paul is a model to us: he combined fiery zeal and
   boldness with judicious tact and sanctified common sense. Oh that we
   had more men of wisdom in these days!

   But what did the Apostle teach? What was the grand subject which he
   argued, and reasoned out, and discussed, both with Jew and Greek, in
   synagogue and street? That he exposed the folly of idolatry to the
   ignorant multitudes, --that he showed the true nature of God to the
   worshippers of images made with hands,--that he asserted the nearness
   of God to us all, and the certainty of a solemn reckoning with God at
   the judgment day, to Epicureans and Stoics,--these are facts which we
   have recorded fully in his address on Mars' Hill.

   But is there nothing more than this to be learnt about the Apostle's
   dealings with the idolatrous city? Is there nothing more distinctive
   and peculiar to Christianity which St. Paul brought forward at Athens?
   There is indeed more. There is a sentence in the 18th verse of the
   chapter we are looking at, which ought to be written in letters of
   gold,--a sentence which ought to silence for ever the impudent
   assertion, which some have dared to make, that the great Apostle of the
   Gentiles was sometimes content to be a mere teacher of deism or natural
   theology! We are told in the 18th verse that one thing which arrested
   the attention of the Athenians was the fact, that St. Paul "preached
   Jesus and the resurrection."

   Jesus and the resurrection! What a mine of matter that sentence
   contained! What a complete summary of the Christian faith might be
   drawn from those words! That they are only meant to be a summary, I
   have no doubt. I pity those who would cramp and pare down their
   meaning, and interpret them as nothing more than Christ's prophetical
   office and example. I think it incredible that the very Apostle who a
   few days after went to Corinth, "determined to know nothing but Christ
   crucified," or the doctrine of the cross, would keep back the cross
   from Athenian ears. I believe that "Jesus and the resurrection" is a
   sentence which stands for the whole gospel. The Founder's name, and one
   of the foundation facts of the gospel, stand before us for the whole of
   Christianity.

   What, then, does this sentence mean? What are we to understand St. Paul
   preached?

   (a) St. Paul at Athens preached the person of the Lord Jesus,--His
   divinity, His incarnation, His mission into the world to save sinners,
   His life, and death, and ascension up to heaven, His character, His
   teaching, His amazing love to the souls of men.

   (b) St. Paul at Athens preached the work of the Lord Jesus,---His
   sacrifice upon the cross, His vicarious satisfaction for sin, His
   substitution as the just for the unjust, the full redemption He has
   procured for all, and specially effected for all who believe, the
   complete victory He has obtained for lost man over sin, death, and
   hell.

   (c) St. Paul at Athens preached the offices of the Lord Jesus, has the
   one Mediator between God and all mankind, as the great Physician for
   all sin-sick souls, as the Rest-giver and Peace-maker for all
   heavy-laden hearts, as the Friend of the friendless, the High Priest
   and Advocate of all who commit their souls into His hands, the
   Ransom-payer of captives, the Light and Guide of all wandering from
   God.

   (d) St. Paul at Athens preached the terms which the Lord Jesus had
   commanded His servants to proclaim to all the world;--His readiness and
   willingness to receive at once the chief of sinners; His ability to
   save to the uttermost all who come unto God by Him; the full, present,
   and immediate forgiveness which He offers to all who believe; the
   complete cleansing in His blood from all manner of sin; faith, or
   simple trust of heart, the one thing required of all who feel their
   sins and desire to be saved; entire justification without works, or
   doing, or deeds of law for all who believe.

   (e) Last, but not least, St. Paul preached at Athens the resurrection
   of the Lord Jesus. He preached it as the miraculous fact on which Jesus
   Himself staked the whole credibility of His mission, and as a fact
   proved by such abounding evidence that no caviller at miracles has ever
   yet honestly dared to meets--He preached it as a fact, which was the
   very top-stone of the whole work of redemption, proving that what
   Christ undertook He fully accomplished, that the ransom was accepted,
   the atonement completed, and the prison doors thrown open for ever.--He
   preached it as a fact, proving beyond doubt the possibility and
   certainty of our own resurrection in the flesh, and settling for ever
   the great question, "Can God raise the dead?"

   These things and many like them, I cannot doubt, St. Paul preached at
   Athens. I cannot for one moment suppose that he taught one thing at one
   place and one at another. The Holy Ghost supplies the substance of his
   preaching in that rich sentence, "Jesus and the resurrection." The same
   Holy Ghost has told us fully how he handled these subjects at Antioch
   in Pisidia, at Philippi, at Corinth, and Ephesus. The Acts and the
   Epistles speak out on this point with no uncertain sound. I believe
   that "Jesus and the resurrection" means,--Jesus and the redemption He
   effected by His death and rising from the grave, His atoning blood, His
   cross, His substitution, His mediation, His triumphant entrance into
   heaven, and the consequent full and complete salvation of all sinners
   who believe in Him. This is the doctrine St. Paul preached. This is the
   work St. Paul did when he was at Athens.

   Now, have we nothing to learn from these doings of the great Apostle of
   the Gentiles? There are lessons of deep importance to which I venture
   briefly to invite the attention of all who read this paper. I say
   briefly. I only throw them out, as seeds for private thought.

   (a) Learn, for one thing, a doctrinal lesson from St. Paul's doings at
   Athens. The grand subject of our teaching, in every place, ought to be
   Jesus Christ. However learned or however unlearned, however high-born
   or however humble our audience, Christ
   crucified--Christ--Christ--Christ--crucified, rising, interceding,
   redeeming, pardoning, receiving, saving--Christ must be the grand theme
   of our teaching. We shall never mend this gospel. We shall never find
   any other subject which will do so much good. We must sow as St. Paul
   sowed, if we would reap as St. Paul reaped.

   (b) Learn, for another thing, a practical lesson from St. Paul's doings
   at Athens. We must never be afraid to stand alone and be solitary
   witnesses for Christ, if need be, alone in a vast ungodly parish, in
   our own land,-alone in East London, in Liverpool, in Manchester,--alone
   in Delhi, or Benares, or Pekin,--it matters not. We need not hold our
   peace, if God's truth be on our side. One Paul at Athens, one
   Athanasius against the world, one Wycliffe against a host of Romish
   prelates, one Luther at Worms, these, these, are lighthouses before our
   eyes. God sees not as man sees. We must not stand still to count heads
   and number the people. One man, with Christ in his heart and the Bible
   in his hands, is stronger than a myriad of idolaters.

   (c) Learn for another thing, the importance, let me rather say the
   necessity, of asserting boldly the supernatural element as an essential
   part of the Christian religion. I need not tell many who read these
   pages that unbelievers and sceptics abound in these days, who make a
   dead set at the miracles of the Bible, and are incessantly trying to
   throw them overboard as useless lumber, or to prove by ingenious
   explanations that they are fables and no miracles at all: Let us never
   be afraid to resist such teaching steadily, and to take our stand by
   the side of St. Paul. Like him, let us point to the resurrection of
   Christ, and confidently challenge all fair and reasonable men to refute
   the evidence by which it is supported. The enemies of supernatural
   religion have never refuted that evidence, and they never will. If
   Christ was not raised from the dead, the conduct and teaching of the
   Apostles after He left the world is an unsolved problem and a perfect
   mystery, which no man in his senses can account for. But if, as we
   believe, the resurrection of Christ is an undeniable fact which cannot
   be disproved, the whole fabric of sceptical arguments against
   supernatural religion is undermined, and must fall to the ground. The
   stupendous miracle of the resurrection of Christ once admitted, it is
   sheer nonsense to tell us that any other smaller miracle in the Bible
   is incredible or impossible.

   (d):Learn, for one thing more, a lesson of encouragement to faith from
   St. Paul's doings at Athens. If we preach the gospel, we may preach
   with perfect confidence that it will do good. That solitary Jew of
   Tarsus who stood up alone on Mars' Hill appeared at the time to do
   little or nothing. He passed on his way, and seemed to have made a
   failure. The Stoics and Epicureans probably laughed and sneered as if
   the day was their own. But that solitary Jew was lighting a candle that
   has never since been put out. The Word that he proclaimed in Athens
   grew and multiplied, and became a great tree. That little leaven
   ultimately leavened the whole of Greece. The gospel that Paul preached
   triumphed over idolatry. The empty Parthenon stands, to this day, a
   proof that Athenian theology is dead and gone. Yes; if we sow good
   seed, we may sow it in tears, but we shall yet "come again with joy,
   bringing our sheaves with us" (Ps. 126:6).

   I draw towards a conclusion. I pass from the consideration of what St.
   Paul saw, and tilt, and did at Athens, to points of practical
   importance. I ask every reader of this paper what ought we to see, to
   feel, and to do?

   (1) What ought we to see? It is an age of sightseeing and excitement.
   "The eye is not satisfied with seeing" (Eccles. 1:8). The world is mad
   after running to and fro, and the increase of knowledge. The wealth,
   the arts, the inventions of man are continually gathering myriads into
   great Exhibitions. Thousands and tens of thousands are annually rushing
   about and gazing at the work of men's hands.

   But ought not the Christian to look at the map of the world? Ought not
   the man who believes the Bible to gaze with solemn thoughts on the vast
   spaces in that map which are yet spiritually black, dead, and without
   the gospel? Ought not our eyes to look at the fact that half the
   population of the earth is yet ignorant of God and Christ, and yet
   sitting still in sin and idolatry, and that myriads of our own
   fellow-countrymen in our great cities are practically little better
   than heathen, because Christians do so little for souls?

   The eyes of God see these things, and our eyes ought to see them too.

   (2) What aught we to feel? Our hearts, if they are right in the sight
   of God, ought to be affected by the sight of irreligion and heathenism.
   Many indeed are the feelings which the aspect of the world ought to
   call up in our hearts.

   Thankfulness we ought to feel for our own countless privileges. Little
   indeed do the bulk of English people know the amount of their own daily
   unpaid debt to Christianity. Well would it be for some if they could be
   compelled to dwell for a few weeks every year in a heathen land.

   Shame and humiliation we ought to feel when we reflect how little the
   Church of England has done for the spread of Christianity hitherto. God
   has indeed done great things for us since the days when Cranmer,
   Ridley, and Latimer went to the stake,--has preserved us through many
   trials, has enriched us with many blessings. But how little return we
   have made Him! How few of our 15,000 parishes do anything worthy of the
   cause of missions at home or abroad! How little zeal some congregations
   show for the salvation of souls! These things ought not so to be!

   Compassion we ought to feel when we think of the wretched state of
   unconverted souls, and the misery of all men and women who live and die
   without Christ. No poverty like this poverty! No disease like this
   disease! No slavery like this slavery! No death like this, death in
   idolatry, irreligion, and sin! Well may we ask ourselves, Where is the
   mind of Christ, if we do not feel for the lost? I lay it down boldly,
   as a great principle, that the Christianity which does not make a man
   feel for the state of unconverted people is not the Christianity which
   came down from heaven 1800 years ago, and is embalmed in the New
   Testament. It is a mere empty name. It is not the Christianity of St.
   Paul.

   (3) Finally, what ought we to do? This, after all, is the point to
   which I want to bring your mind. Seeing and feeling are well; but doing
   is the life of religion. Passive impressions which do not lead to
   action have a tendency to harden the conscience, and do us positive
   harm. What ought we to do? We ought to do much more than we have ever
   done yet. We might all probably do more. The honour of the gospel, the
   state of the missionary field abroad, the condition of our overgrown
   cities at home, all call upon us to do more.

   Need we stand still, and be ashamed of the weapons of our warfare? Is
   the gospel, the old Evangelical creed, unequal to the wants of our day?
   I assert boldly that we have no cause to be ashamed of the gospel at
   all. It is not worn out. It is not effete. It is not behind the times.
   We want nothing new, nothing added to the gospel, nothing taken away.
   We want nothing but "the old paths," the old truths fully, boldly,
   affectionately proclaimed. Only preach the gospel fully, the same
   gospel which St. Paul preached, and it is still "the power of God unto
   salvation to every one that believeth," and nothing else called
   religion has any real power at all. (Rom. 1:16.)

   Need we stand still and be ashamed of the results of preaching the
   gospel? Shall we hang down our heads, and complain that "the faith once
   delivered to the saints" has lost its power, and does no good? We have
   no cause to be ashamed at all. I am bold to say that no religious
   teaching on earth can point to any results worth mentioning except that
   which is called doctrinal, dogmatic theology. What deliverance on earth
   have all the modern schools--which scorn dogmatic teaching--what
   deliverance have they wrought? What overgrown and semi-heathen parishes
   in the metropolis, in our great seaports, our manufacturing towns, our
   colliery districts, have they evangelized and civilized? What New
   Zealand, what Red River, what Sierra-Leone, what Tinnevelly can the
   high-sounding systems of this latter day point to as a fruit of their
   system? No! if the question, "What is truth?" is to be solved by
   reference to results and fruits, the religion of the New Testament, the
   religion whose principles are summarized, condensed, and embalmed in
   our Articles, Creeds, and Prayer Book, has no cause to be ashamed.

   What can we do now bug humble ourselves for the past, and endeavour, by
   God's help, to do more for time to come? Let us open our eyes more, and
   see. Let us open our hearts more, and .fed. Let us stir up ourselves to
   do more work ruby self-denying gifts, by zealous co-operation, by bold
   advocacy, by fervent prayer. Let us do something worthy of our cause.
   The cause for which Jesus left heaven and came down to earth deserves
   the best that we can do.

   And now, let me close this paper by returning to the thought with which
   it began. Perhaps your lot is cast in a city or town. The population of
   our rural districts is annually decreasing. The dwellers in towns are
   rapidly outnumbering the dwellers in country parishes. If you are a
   dweller in a town, accept the parting words of advice which I am about
   to offer. Give me, your best attention while I speak to you about your
   soul.

   (1) Remember, for one thing, that you are placed in a position of
   peculiar spiritual danger. From the days of Babel downwards, wherever
   Adam's children have been assembled in large numbers, they have always
   drawn one another to the utmost extremities of sin and wickedness. The
   great towns have always been Satan's seat. It is the town where the
   young man sees abounding examples of ungodliness; and, if he is
   determined to live in sin, will always find plenty of companions. It is
   the town where the theatre and the casino, the dancing room and the
   drinking bar, are continually crowded. It is the town where the love of
   money, or the love of amusement, or the love of sensual indulgence,
   lead captive myriads of slaves. It is the town where a man will always
   find hundreds to encourage him in breaking the Sabbath, despising the
   means of grace, neglecting the Bible, leaving off the habit of prayer.
   Reader, consider these things. If you live in a town, take care. Know
   your danger. Feel your weakness and sinfulness. Flee to Christ, and
   commit your soul to His keeping. Ask Him to hold you up, and you will
   be safe. Stand on your guard. Resist the devil Watch and pray.

   (2) Remember, on the other hand, if you live in a town, you will
   probably have some special helps which you cannot always find in the
   country. There are few English towns in which you will not find a few
   faithful servants of Christ, who will gladly assist you and aid you in
   your journey towards heaven. Few indeed are the English towns in which
   you will not find some minister who preaches the gospel, and some
   pilgrims in the narrow way who are ready to welcome any addition to
   their number.

   Reader, be of good courage, and never give way to the despairing
   thought that it is impossible to serve Christ in a town. Think rather
   that with God nothing is impossible. Think of the long list of
   witnesses who have carried the cross, and been faithful unto death in
   the midst of the greatest temptations. Think of Daniel and the three
   children in Babylon. Think of the saints in Nero's household at Rome.
   Think of the multitudes of believers at Corinth and Ephesus and Antioch
   in the days of the Apostles. It is not place but grace that makes the
   Christian. The holiest and most useful servants of God who have ever
   lived were not hermits in the wilderness but dwellers in towns.

   Remember these things, and be of good cheer. Your lot may be cast in a
   city like Athens, "wholly given to idolatry." You may have to stand
   alone in the bank, the counting-house, the place of business, or the
   shop.

   But you are not really alone, if Christ is with you. Be strong in the
   Lord, and in the power of His might. Be bold, thorough, decided, and
   patient. The day will come when you will find that even hi a great city
   a man may be a happy, useful Christian, respected while he lives, and
   honoured when he dies.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [9] This paper contains the substance of a sermon preached at St.
   Mary's, Oxford, before the University, in 1880.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER X
  Acts 26:24-29.
  PORTRAITS.

   [10]

   "And as he thus spake for himself, Festus said with a loud voice, Paul,
   thou art beside thyself; much learning doth make thee mad.

   "But he said, I am not mad, most noble Festus; but speak forth the
   words of truth and soberness.

   "For the king knoweth of these things, before whom also I speak freely:
   for I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from him; for
   this thing was not done in a corner.

   "King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest.

   "Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost thou persuadest me to be a
   Christian.

   "And Paul said, I would to God, that not only thou, but also all that
   hear me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I am, except
   these bounds."--Acts 26:24-29.

   THERE is a collection of pictures in London called the National
   Portrait Gallery. It contains the likenesses of nearly all the great
   men who have made a mark in English history. It is well worth seeing.
   But I doubt whether it contains three portraits which deserve a more
   attentive study than the three which I am going to show you in this
   paper.

   One striking feature of the Bible is the rich variety of its contents.
   That grand old Book, which for eighteen centuries has baffled the
   attacks of unfriendly critics, is not only a storehouse of doctrine,
   precept, history, poetry, and prophecy. The Holy Ghost has also given
   us a series of lifelike portraits of human nature, in all its various
   aspects, which deserve our attentive study. Who does not know that we
   often learn more from patterns and examples than from abstract
   statements?

   The well-known piece of Scripture which heads this paper supplies an
   admirable illustration of my meaning. It forms the conclusion of the
   chapter in which the .Apostle St. Paul makes a defence of himself
   before the Roman governor Festus and the Jewish king Agrippa. Three
   pictures of three very different men hang before us. They are types of
   three classes of men who are to be seen among us at this very day.
   Their succession has never ceased. In spite of changing fashions,
   scientific discoveries, and political reforms, the inward heart of man
   in every age is always the same. Come and let us stand before these
   three pictures, as we would stand before the painting of a
   Gainsborough, a Reynolds, or a Romney, and see what we may learn.

   I. Let us look, first, at Festus, the Roman governor. This is the man
   who abruptly broke in upon St. Paul's address, exclaiming, "Paul, thou
   art beside thyself; much learning doth make thee mad."

   Festus, no doubt, was a heathen, ignorant of any religion except the
   idolatrous temple-worship, which in the time of the Apostles overspread
   the civilized world. From the language he addressed to Agrippa in a
   preceding chapter, he seems to have been profoundly ignorant both of
   Judaism and Christianity. He spoke of "questions of their own
   superstition, and of one Jesus, which was dead, whom Paul affirmed to
   be alive" (Acts 25:19). Most probably, like many a proud Roman in the
   declining age of the Roman Empire, he regarded all religions with
   secret contempt, as all equally false, or equally true, and all alike
   unworthy of the notice of a great man. As for a Jew talking of showing
   "light to the Gentiles," the very idea was ridiculous! To keep in with
   the world, to have the favour of man, to care nothing for anything but
   the things seen, to please "my lord" Augustus,--this was probably the
   whole religion of Porcius Festus.

   Now, are there many among us like Festus? Yes! I fear there are tens of
   thousands. They are to be found in every rank and class of society.
   They walk in our streets. They travel with us in railway carriages.
   They meet us in the daily intercourse of the world. They fill the
   various relations of life respectably. They are often good men of
   business, and eminent in the professions they have chosen. They
   discharge the various duties of their positions with credit, and leave
   a good name behind them, when their place is empty. But, like Festus,
   they have no religion!

   These are they who seem to live as if they had no souls. From January
   to December, they appear neither to think, nor feel, nor see, nor know
   anything about a life to come. It forms no part of their schemes, and
   plans, and calculations. They live as if they had nothing to attend to
   but the body,--nothing to do but to eat, and drink, and sleep, and
   dress, and get money, and spend money,--and no world to provide for
   except the world which we see with our eyes.

   These are they who seldom, if ever, use any means of grace, whether
   public or private. Praying and Bible-reading, and secret communion with
   God, are things which they despise and let alone. They may be very well
   for the aged, the sick, and the dying; for the clergy, the monk, and
   the nun; but not for them! If ever they attend a place of worship, it
   is only as a matter of form, to appear respectable; and too often they
   never attend except on the occasion of some great public ceremony, or
   at a wedding, or a funeral.

   These are they who profess their inability to understand anything like
   zeal or earnestness about religion. They regard the Societies, the
   Institutions, the literature, the Evangelistic efforts of Christians,
   at home or abroad, with sublime contempt. Their maxim is to let
   everybody alone. The comparative claims of Church and Dissent, the
   strife of parties within our pale, the debates of Convocations,
   Congresses, and Diocesan Conferences, are all alike matters of
   indifference to them. They look coldly at them from a distance, like
   the philosopher described by the Latin poet Lucretius, and regard them
   as the childish struggles of weak folks, unworthy of the notice of a
   cultivated mind. And if such subjects are ever brought up in their
   company, they brush them away with some satirical remark, or some
   oft-repeated old smart saying of scepticism.

   Will any one deny that there are multitudes of people around us such as
   I have tried to describe,--kind people, perhaps, moral people,
   good-natured people, easy to get on with, unless you get on the subject
   of religion? It is impossible to deny it. Their name is "legion," for
   they are many. The tendency of these latter days to make an idol of
   intellect,--the desire to be independent and to think for yourself, w
   the disposition to worship private judgment, to exalt your own isolated
   opinion, and to deem it finer and cleverer to go wrong with a few than
   right with a crowd, all this helps to swell the ranks of the followers
   of Festus. I fear he is the type of a large class.

   Such people are a melancholy sight. They often remind me of some grand
   old ruin, like Melrose or Bolton Abbey, where enough remains of
   beauteous arches, and columns, and towers, and traceried windows to
   show what the building once was, and what it might have been now if God
   had not left it. But now all is cold, and silent, and gloomy, and
   suggestive of decay, because the Master of the house, the Lord of life,
   is not there. Just so it is with many of the followers of Festus. You
   often feel, when you observe their intellectual power, their gifts of
   speech, their taste, their energy of character, "what men these might
   be if God had His rightful place in their souls!" But without God all
   is wrong. Alas, for the crushing power of unbelief and pride, when they
   get complete mastery of a mall, and reign over him uncontrolled! No
   wonder that Scripture describes unconverted man as "blind,--sleeping,
   beside himself,--and dead."

   Is Festus reading this paper to-day? I am afraid not! Religious tracts
   and books, like Sunday services and sermons, are not in his line. On
   Sundays, Festus probably reads the newspaper, or looks over his worldly
   accounts, or visits his friends, or goes a journey, and secretly wishes
   an English Sunday was more like a Continental one, and the theatres and
   museums were open. On week-days, Festus is constantly employed in
   business, or politics, or, recreations, or killing time in the trifling
   pursuits of modem society; and he lives like a butterfly, as
   thoughtless as if there were no such thing as death, or judgment, or
   eternity. Oh, no: Festus is not the man to read this paper!

   But is a man like Festus in a hopeless condition, and beyond the reach
   of mercy? No, indeed! I thank God he is not. He has yet got a
   conscience at the bottom of his character, which, however much seared,
   is not quite dead,--a conscience which, like the great bell of St.
   Paul's at midnight, when the roar of city business is over, will
   sometimes make itself heard. Like Felix, and Herod, and Ahab, and
   Pharaoh, the followers of Festus have their times of visitation; and,
   unlike them, they sometimes awake before it is too late, and become
   different men. There are seasons in their lives when they are driven in
   upon themselves, and feel "the powers of the world to come," and find
   that mortal man cannot get on without God. Sickness, and solitude, and
   disappointments, and losses of money, and deaths of loved ones, can
   sometimes make the proudest hearts bow down, and confess that the
   "grasshopper is a burden." Manasseh is not the only one who "in time of
   affliction" turned to God, and began to pray. Yes! I have long felt
   that we must never despair of any one. The age of spiritual miracles is
   not past. With Christ and the Holy Ghost nothing is impossible. The
   last day will show that there were some who began with Festus and were
   like him, but at last turned round, repented, and ended with St. Paul.
   While there is life we must hope, and pray for others.

   II. Let us now turn to a very different picture. Let us look at King
   Agrippa. This is the man who was so much struck by St. Paul's address
   that he said, "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian."

   "Almost." Let me dwell for a moment on that expression. I am well aware
   that many think our Authorized English Version of the Bible is in fault
   here, and fails to give the true meaning of the original Greek. They
   assert that the phrase would be more correctly rendered, "In a short
   time," or "with weak and feeble argument thou art persuading me." I am
   bold to say that I cannot accept the view of these critics, though I
   admit that the phrase is rather obscure. But in questions like these I
   dare not call any man master. I hold with several excellent
   commentators, both ancient and modern, [11] that the translation given
   in our Authorized Version is right and correct. I am fortified in my
   belief by the fact that this is the view of one who thought, and spoke,
   and wrote in the language of the New Testament--I mean the famous Greek
   Father Chrysostom. And last, but not least, no other view appears to me
   to harmonize with the exclamation of the Apostle St. Paul in the verse
   which follows. "Almost!" he seems to say, taking up Agrippa's words. "I
   want thee to be not almost, but altogether a Christian." On these
   grounds I stand by our Old Version.

   Agrippa, whose picture now demands our attention, was in many respects
   very unlike Festus. Of Jewish extraction, and brought up among Jews, if
   not of pure Jewish blood, he was thoroughly familiar with many things
   of which the Roman governor was utterly ignorant. He knew and "believed
   the prophets." He must have understood many things in St. Paul's
   address, which were mere "words and names" and raving fancies to his
   companion in the place of hearing. He had a secret inward conviction
   that the man before him had truth on his side. He saw, and felt, and
   was moved, and affected, and conscience-stricken, and had inward wishes
   and longing desires. But he could get no further. He saw; but he had
   not courage to act. He felt; but he had not the will to move. He was
   not far from the kingdom of God; but he halted outside. He neither
   condemned nor ridiculed Christianity; but, like a man who is paralyzed,
   he could only look at it and examine it, and had not strength of mind
   to lay hold on it and receive it into his heart.

   Now, are there many professing Christians like Agrippa? I fear there is
   only one answer to that question. They are an exceeding great army, a
   multitude which it is difficult to number. They are to be found in our
   churches, and are pretty regular attendants on all means of grace. They
   have no doubt of the truth of the Bible. They have not the slightest
   objection to the doctrines of the gospel. They know the difference
   between sound and unsound teaching. They admire the lives of holy
   people. They read good books, and give money to good objects. But,
   unhappily, they never seem to get beyond a certain point in their
   religion. They never come out boldly on Christ's side, never take up
   the cross, never confess Christ before men, never give up petty
   inconsistencies. They often tell you that they "mean, and intend, and
   hope, and purpose" some day to be more decided Christians. They know
   they are not quite what they ought to be at present, and they hope one
   day to be different. But the "convenient season" never seems to come.
   Meaning and intending they go on, and meaning and intending they go off
   the stage. Meaning and intending they live, and meaning and intending,
   too oft, they die,--kind, good-natured, respectable people; not
   enemies, but friends to St. Paul, but, like Agrippa, "almost
   Christians."

   How is it, you may well ask, that men can go so far in religion, and
   yet go no further? How is it that they can see so much, and know so
   much, and yet not follow the light they have to the "perfect day"? How
   is it that intellect and reason and conscience can make such progress
   towards Christianity, and yet heart and will can lag behind?

   The answers to these questions are soon given. The fear of man keeps
   back some. They have a cowardly dread of being laughed at, mocked, and
   despised, if they become decided Christians. They dare not risk the
   loss of man's good opinion. Like many of the Jewish rulers in our
   Lord's time, they "love the praise of men more than the praise of God"
   (John 12:43). The love of the world keeps back others. They know that
   decided religion entails separation from some of the fashionable
   amusements and modes of spending time, which are common in the world.
   They cannot make up their minds to this separation. They shrink from
   their baptismal vow to "renounce the pomps and vanities of this world."
   Like Lot's wife, they would like to be delivered from the wrath of God;
   but, like her, they must "look back" (Gen. 19:26). A certain subtle
   form of self-righteousness keeps back many. They take comfort in the
   secret thought that, at any rate, they are not so bad as Festus. They
   are not like some people they know: they do not despise religion. They
   go to church. They admire earnest men like St. Paul Surely they will
   not be lost on account of a few inconsistencies!--The morbid dread of
   being party-spirited keeps back many, and especially young men. They
   are oppressed with the idea that they cannot take a decided line in
   religion without committing themselves to some particular "school of
   thought." This is what they do not want to do. They forget that the
   case of AgripPsalms is not one of doctrine, but of conduct, and that
   decided action about duty is the surest way to obtain light about
   doctrinal truth. " If any man will do God's will, he shall know of the
   doctrine" (John 7:17). Some secret sin, I fear, keeps back not a few.
   They know in their own hearts that they are clinging to something which
   is wrong in God's sight. There is an Herodias, or a Drusilla, or a
   Bernice, or an Achan's wedge of gold somewhere, in their private
   history, which will not bear the light of day. They cannot part with
   this darling. They cannot cut off the right hand, or pluck out the
   right eye, and so they cannot become disciples. Alas! for these
   excuses. Weighed in the balance, they are worthless and vain. Alas! for
   those who rest in them. Except they awake, and cast off their chains,
   they will make shipwreck for ever.

   Is AgripPsalms reading this paper to-day? Are there any like him whose
   eyes are on this page? Take a kindly warning from a minister of Christ,
   and try to realize that you are in a very dangerous position. Wishing,
   and feeling, and meaning, and intending, do not make up saving
   religion. They are but painted corks, which may enable you to float on
   the surface for a time, and keep your head above water, but they will
   not prevent you being carried down the stream, and being at last swept
   over a worse fall than that of Niagara And, after all, you are not
   happy. You know too much of religion to be happy in the world: you are
   too much mixed up with the world to get any comfort from your religion.
   In short, you are neither happy in the world nor out of the world.
   Awake to a sense of your danger and your folly. Resolve by God's help
   to become decided. Draw the sword, and cast away the scabbard. "If you
   have no sword, sell your garment and buy one" (Luke 22:36). Burn your
   ships, and march straight forward. Do not merely look at the ark, and
   admire it; but enter in, before the door is shut and the flood begins.
   One thing, at any rate, may be laid down as an axiom in the elements of
   religion: An "almost" Christian is neither a safe nor a happy man.

   III. Let us turn now to the last picture of the three. Let us look at
   the man whom Festus thought "beside himself," and by whom Agrippa was
   "almost persuaded to be a Christian." Let us look at St. Paul. This is
   the man who boldly said," I would to God, that not only thou, but all
   that hear me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I am,
   except these bonds." He wished his hearers no chains or imprisonment,
   such as he was suffering when he spoke. But he did wish them to be of
   one mind with him about the one thing needful; and to share his peace,
   his hope, his solid comfort, his expectations.

   "Altogether such as I am." A weighty and memorable saying! It is the
   language of one who is thoroughly convinced and persuaded that he is in
   the right. He has cast overboard all doubts and hesitations. He holds
   the truth with the firm grasp of both hands, and not with finger and
   thumb. It is the language of the man who wrote in one place, "I know
   whom I have believed, and that He is able to keep that which I have
   committed to Him against that day."--And in another place," I am
   persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities,
   nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor
   depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the
   love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (2 Tim. 1:12; Rom.
   8:38-39).

   (a) St. Paul was altogether convinced of the truth of the facts of
   Christianity. That the Lord Jesus Christ was actually "God manifest in
   the flesh," -- that He had proved His divinity by doing miracles which
   could not be denied,--that He had, finally, risen from the grave and
   ascended up into heaven, and was sitting at God's right hand as man's
   Saviour,--on all these points he had thoroughly made up his mind, and
   had not the slightest doubt of their credibility. On behalf of them he
   was willing to die.

   (b) St. Paul was altogether convinced of the truth of the doctrines of
   Christianity. That we are all guilty sinners, and in danger of eternal
   ruin, that the grand object of Christ coming into the world was to make
   atonement for our sins, and to purchase redemption by suffering in our
   stead on the cross,--that all who repent and believe on Christ
   crucified are completely forgiven all sins,--and that there is no other
   way to peace with God and heaven after death, but faith in Christ,--all
   this he most stedfastly believed. To teach these doctrines was his one
   object from his conversion till his martyrdom.

   (c) St. Paul was altogether convinced that he himself had been changed
   by the power of the Holy Spirit, and taught to live a new life,--that a
   holy life, devoted and consecrated to Christ, was the wisest, happiest
   life a man could live, that the favour of God was a thousand times
   better than the favour of man,--and that nothing was too much to do for
   Him who had loved him and given Himself for him. He ran his race ever
   "looking unto Jesus," and spending and being spent for Him (Heb. 12:2;
   2 Cor. 5:15, 12:15).

   (d) Last, but not least, St. Paul was altogether convinced of the
   reality of a world to come. The praise or favour of man, the rewards or
   punishments of this present world, were all as dross to him. He had
   before his eyes continually an inheritance incorruptible, and a crown
   of glory that would never fade away (Phil. 3:8; 2 Tim. 4:8). Of that
   crown he knew that nothing could deprive him. Festus might despise him,
   and think him "mad." The Roman emperor, to whom he was going, might
   order him to be beheaded or thrown to the lions. What matter? He was
   firmly persuaded that he had treasure laid up in heaven which neither
   Festus nor Caesar could touch, and which would be his to all eternity.

   This is what St. Paul meant when he said "altogether such as I am."
   About the facts, doctrines, practice, and rewards to come of
   Christianity, he had a rooted, settled, firm conviction,--a conviction
   which he longed to see all men sharing. He was confident: he wanted
   others to enjoy the same confidence. He had no doubt or fear about the
   future state of his soul. He would fain have seen Festus, Agrippa,
   Bernice, and all around them, in the same happy condition.

   Now, are there many in the present day like St. Paul? I do not of
   course mean, are there many inspired Apostles? But I do mean, is it
   common to meet Christians who are as thorough, as unhesitating, as full
   of assurance as he was? I fear there can only be one answer to this
   question. "Not many," whether rich or poor, high or low, "are
   called."--"Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leadeth unto
   life, and few there be that find it" (1 Cor. 1:26; Matt. 7:14). Look
   where you please, search where you like in town or in country, there
   are few "altogether" Christians. Festus and AgripPsalms are everywhere:
   they meet us at every turn. But there are few thorough, wholehearted
   followers of St. Paul. Yet one thing is very certain. These few are the
   "salt of the earth," and the "light of the world" (Matt. 5:13-14).
   These few are the glory of the Church, and serve to keep it alive.
   Without them, the Church would be little better than a decaying
   carcase, a white-washed sepulchre, a lighthouse without light, a
   steam-engine without fire, a golden candlestick without a candle, a joy
   to the devil, and an offence to God.

   These are the kind of men who shake the world, and leave an indelible
   mark behind them. Martin Luther, and John Wesley, and William
   Wilberforce were hated and lightly esteemed while they lived; but the
   work they did for Christ will never be forgotten. They were
   "altogether" Christians.

   These are the kind of men who enjoy true happiness in their religion.
   Like Paul and Silas, they can sing in prison, and, like Peter, they can
   sleep quietly on the very edge of the grave (Acts 12:6, 16:25). Strong
   faith gives them an inward peace which makes them independent of
   earthly troubles, and compels even their enemies to wonder. Your
   lukewarm Laodicean Christians have little comfort in their religion. It
   is the "thorough" men who have great peace. The first Marian martyr,
   John Rogers, when he was going to be burned alive for Protestantism, is
   said to have walked to the stake in Smithfield as cheerfully as if he
   were going to his wedding. The outspoken, courageous words of old
   Latimer, before the faggots were lighted, in the day of his martyrdom,
   in Broad Street, Oxford, are not forgotten to this very day. "Courage!
   Brother Ridley," he cried to his fellow-sufferer; "we shall light a
   candle in England to-day, by God's grace, which shall never be put
   out." These men were "altogether" Christians.

   He that would be safe and prepared to meet his God at a moment's
   notice, at evening, at cock-crowing, or in the morning,--he that would
   enjoy felt peace in his religion, peace unaffected by sicknesses,
   bereavements, bankruptcies, revolutions, and the last trumpet's
   sound,--he that would do good in his day and generation, and be a
   fountain of Christian influence to all around him, influence known and
   recognised long after he has been laid in his grave,--let that man
   remember what I tell. him to-day, and never forget it. You must not be
   content to be an "almost" Christian, like Agrippa. You must strive, and
   labour, and agonize, and pray to be an "altogether" Christian, like St.
   Paul.

   And now, let us leave these three pictures with self-inquiry and
   self-examination. The time is short. Our years are quickly passing
   away. The world is growing old. The great assize will soon begin. The
   Judge will soon appear. What are we? To whom are we like? Whose is this
   image and superscription upon us? Is it that of Festus, or of Agrippa,
   or of St. Paul?

   Where are Festus and Agrippa now? We do not know. A veil is drawn over
   their subsequent history, and whether they died as they lived we cannot
   tell. But where is St. Paul, the "altogether" Christian? That question
   we can answer. He is "with Christ, which is far better" (Phil. 1:23).
   He is waiting for the resurrection of the just, in that paradise of
   rest where sin and Satan and sorrow can trouble him no more. He has
   fought the good fight. He has finished his course, he has kept the
   faith. A crown is laid up for him which he will receive in the great
   review day of the Lord's appearing (2 Tim. 4:7-8).

   And, let us thank God, though St. Paul is dead and gone, the Saviour
   who made St. Paul what he was, and kept him to the end, still lives and
   never changes,--always able to save, always willing to receive. Let the
   time past suffice us, if we have trifled with our souls hitherto. Let
   us turn over a new leaf. Let us arise and begin with Christ, if we
   never began before. Let us go on with Christ to the end, if we have
   begun with Him already. With the grace of God, nothing is impossible.
   Who would have thought that Saul the Pharisee, the persecutor of
   Christians, would ever become the "altogether Christian" himself, would
   become the great Apostle of the Gentiles, and would turn the world
   upside down? While there is life there is hope. The follower of Festus
   and AgripPsalms may yet be converted, and live for years, and lie down
   in the grave at last an "altogether" Christian like St. Paul.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [10] This paper contains the substance of a sermon, preached in April
   1881, at St. Mary's, Oxford, before the University, and at the Chapel
   Royal, St. James's, London.

   [11] Luther, Beza, Grotius, Poole, Bengel, Stier, and Dean Howson.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XI
  John 6:68.
  "TO WHOM?"

   [12]

   "Then Simon Peter answered Him, Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast
   the words of eternal life."--John 6:68.

   THE chapter containing the text which heads this page, is singularly
   rich in matter.

   It begins, we must remember, with that well-known miracle, the feeding
   of five thousand men with five loaves and two fishes,--a miracle which
   some early writers call the greatest which Christ ever worked,--the
   only miracle which all the four Evangelists alike record,--a miracle
   which exhibited creative power.

   It goes on to show us another miracle of hardly less striking
   character, the walking of Christ on the waters of the sea of
   Galilee,--a miracle which exhibited our Lord's power, when He thought
   fit, to suspend the so-called laws of nature. It was as easy for Him to
   walk on the water as it had been to create land and sea at the
   beginning.

   The chapter then carries us on to that wonderful discourse in the
   synagogue of Capernaum, which St. John alone, of all the four Gospel
   writers, was inspired to give to the world. Christ, the true bread of
   life,--the privileges of all who come to Him and believe,--the deep
   mystery of Mary's, in the year 1880. It is now published with some
   omissions and alterations eating Christ's flesh and drinking Christ's
   blood, and the life which that flesh and blood convey,--what a wealth
   of precious truth lies here! How great the debt which the Church owes
   to the fourth Gospel!

   And, finally, as the chapter draws to a close, we have the noble
   outburst of the warm-hearted Apostle St. Peter,--"Lord, to whom shall
   we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life." In this remarkable verse
   there are three points to which I now propose to invite the attention
   of all into whose hands this paper may fall.

   I. In the first place, I ask you to observe the occasion of these words
   being spoken. What made this fiery, impulsive disciple cry out, "To
   whom shall we go?" The verses which precede our text supply an answer.
   "From that time many went back, and walked no more with Him. Then said
   Jesus to the twelve, Will ye also go away?"

   There you have recorded a melancholy and most instructive fact. Even
   from Christ Himself, who "spake as never man spake," and did works of
   matchless power, and lived as no one ever lived, holy, harmless,
   undefiled, and separate from sinners, even from Christ many, after
   following Him for a time, went away. Yes! many, not a few, many in the
   noontide blaze of miracles and sermons, such as earth had never seen or
   heard before, many turned away from Christ, left Him, deserted Him,
   gave up His blessed service, and went back,--some to Judaism, some to
   the world, and some, we may fear, to their sins. "If they did these
   things in a green tree, what may we expect in a dry?" If men could
   forsake Christ, we have no right to be surprised if His erring, weak
   ministers are forsaken also in these last days.

   But why did these men go back? Some of them, probably, went back
   because they had not counted the cost, and "when tribulation or
   persecution arose because of the word" they were offended. Some of them
   went back because they had totally misunderstood the nature of our
   Lord's kingdom, and had dreamed only of temporal advantages and
   rewards. Most of them, however, it is very clear, went back because
   they could not receive the deep doctrine which had just been
   proclaimed,--I mean the doctrine that "eating Christ's flesh and
   drinking Christ's blood" are absolutely necessary to salvation. It is
   the old story. As it was in the beginning, so it will be to the end.
   There is nothing which the dark, natural heart of man dislikes so much
   as the so-called "blood theology." Cain turned away in his proud
   ignorance from the idea of vicarious sacrifice, and the Jews who fell
   away from our Lord, "went back" when they heard that they must "eat the
   flesh and drink the blood" of the Son of man.

   But there is no denying the fact that these Jews who "went back" have
   never been without followers and imitators. Their succession, at any
   rate, has never ceased. Millions in every age have been admitted into
   the Church by baptism, and begun life as professing Christians, and
   then, on coming to man's estate, have turned their back altogether on
   Christ and Christianity. Instead of "continuing Christ's faithful
   soldiers and servants," they have become servants of sin, the world,
   and unbelief. The defection is continually going on: it is an old
   disease, and must not surprise us. The heart is always deceitful and
   desperately wicked; the devil is always busy, and seeking whom he may
   devour; the world is always ensnaring; the way of life is narrow, the
   enemies many, the friends few, the difficulties great, the cross heavy,
   the doctrine of the gospel offensive to the natural man. What
   thoughtful person need wonder that multitudes in every age go back from
   Christ? They are brought within the outward fold of the Church in
   childhood, and then, on coming to manhood, they throw off all religion,
   and perish miserably in the wilderness.

   Yet I am bold to say that the disposition to go back from Christ was
   never so strong as it is in these days. Never were the objections to
   vital Christianity so many, so plausible, and so specious. For it is an
   age of free thought and liberty of action, an age of scientific
   inquiry, and determination to question and cress-examine ancient
   opinions, an age of greedy pursuit of pleasure and impatience of
   restraint, an age of idolatry of intellect, and extravagant admiration
   of so-called cleverness, an age of Athenian craving for novelty and
   constant love of change, an age when we see on all sides a bold but
   ever shifting scepticism, which at one time tells us that man is little
   better than an ape, and at another that he is little less than a god,
   an age when there is a morbid readiness to accept the shallowest
   arguments in favour of unbelief, and a simultaneous lazy unwillingness
   to investigate the great fundamental evidences of Divine revelation.
   And, worst of all, it is an age of spurious liberality, when, under the
   high-sounding phrases of "No party spirit! no bigotry!" and the like,
   men live and die without having any distinct opinions at all. In an age
   like this, can any thinking Christian wonder that departure from Christ
   is common? Let him cease to wonder, and not waste his time in
   complaints. Let him rather gird up his loins like a man, and do what he
   can to stay the plague. Let him set his feet down firmly in "the old
   paths," and remember that the defection he sees is only an old
   complaint in an aggravated form. Let him stand between the dead and
   living, and try to stop the mischief. Let him "cry aloud, and spare
   not." Let him say, "Stand to your colours; the battle of Christianity
   is not lost: will ye also go away?"

   I dare believe that many young persons into whose hands this paper may
   fall are often sorely tempted to go back from Christ. You launch forth
   into the world, perhaps, from quiet homes, where the primary truths of
   Christianity were never called in question for a moment, to hear all
   sorts of strange theories broached, and strange opinions advanced,
   which contradict the old principles which you have been taught to
   believe. You find to your astonishment that free thought and free
   handling of sacred subjects have reached such a pitch that the very
   foundations of faith seem shaken. You discover to your amazement that
   cleverness and religion do not always go together, and that it is
   possible for the highest intellect to be ready to thrust God out of His
   own world. Who can wonder if this state of things is a rude shock to
   the tender faith of many young persons, and that, reeling under it,
   they are tempted to go back from Christ, and throw away Christianity
   altogether?

   Now, if any one who reads this paper is tempted in this fashion, I
   entreat him for Christ's sake to be firm, to play the man, and resist
   the temptation. Try to realize that there is nothing new in the state
   of things which now perplexes you. It is nothing but the old disease
   which has always plagued and tried the Church in every age, even from
   the day when Satan said to Eve, "Ye shall not surely die." It is only
   the sifting process which God permits, in order to separate the wheat
   from the chaff, through which we must all pass. The world after all,
   with its pitfalls and snares for the soul, with its competitions and
   struggles, its failures and successes, its disappointments and its
   perplexities, its perpetual crop of crude theories and extreme views,
   its mental conflicts and anxieties, its extravagant free thought, and
   its equally extravagant superstition,--the world is a fiery furnace and
   ordeal, through which all believers must make up their minds to pass.
   The temptation to cast off your first faith and go back from Christ is
   sure to meet you sooner or later, as it has met millions before, in one
   form or another. To realize that in resisting it you are only resisting
   an old and often beaten enemy of the soul, is one half the battle.

   And, as I ask you not to be surprised at the temptation to leave
   Christ, so also I entreat you not to be shaken by it. What though
   scores of men you know give way under the assault, cast off their
   Christian armour, neglect their Bibles, misuse their Sundays, and live
   practically without God in the world? What though clever men, promising
   men, the sons of parents who never dreamed of such things, forsake the
   banner under which they were enrolled, and become mere nothingarians,
   or believers in nothing? Let none of these things move you. Set your
   face as a flint towards Jerusalem. Set your foot down firmly in the old
   paths, the good and tried way to the celestial city.

   What fruit have the deserters to show compared to the followers of
   Peter, James, and John? What increase of inward peace and outward
   usefulness? What rest of conscience? What comfort in trial? No! while
   many go away from Christ, do you cleave to Him with purpose of heart.
   Cleave to your old habits of daily prayer and daily Bible reading, and
   regular attendance on means of grace. Better a thousand times to be on
   Christ's side with a few, and be laughed at and despised for a season,
   than to have the praise of the many for a few short years, and then
   awake too late to find that without Christ you are without peace, or
   hope, or heaven.

   II. In the second place, let us consider the question which Peter asked
   in reply to his Master's appeal, "Will ye also go away?" "Lord," cries
   the warm-hearted and impulsive Apostle. "Lord, to whom shall we go?"
   That question, no doubt, like hundreds in the Bible, was equivalent to
   a strong affirmation. "There is none beside Thee to whom we can go." It
   is like the saying of David, "Whom have I in heaven but Thee? and there
   is none on earth that I desire beside Thee" (Ps. 73:25).

   When we think of the age when Peter lived, we cannot help feeling that
   he had abundant cause to ask that question. In his days, at the end of
   4000 years, "the world by wisdom knew not God" (1 Cor. 1:21). Egypt,
   Assyria, Greece, and Rome, the very nations which attained the highest
   excellence in secular things, in the things of religion were sunk in
   gross darkness. The fellow-countrymen of matchless historians,
   tragedians, poets, orators, and architects, worshipped idols, and bowed
   down to the work of their own hands. The ablest philosophers of Greece
   and Rome groped after truth like blind men, and wearied themselves in
   vain to find the door. The whole earth was defiled with spiritual
   ignorance and immorality, and the wisest men could only confess their
   need of light, like the Greek philosopher Plato, and groan and sigh for
   a deliverer. Peter might well cry, "Lord, if we leave Thee, to whom
   shall we go?"

   Where, indeed, could the Apostle have turned for peace of heart, for
   satisfaction of conscience, for hope in a world to come, if he had gone
   away from the synagogue of Capernaum with the deserters, and left
   Christ 1854 years ago! Would he have found what he wanted among the
   formal Pharisees, or the sceptical Sadducees, or the worldly Herodians,
   or the ascetic Essenes, or the philosophical schools of Athens,
   Alexandria, or Rome? Would Gamaliel, or Caiaphas, or Stoics, or
   Epicureans, or Platonists, have quenched his spiritual thirst, or fed
   his soul? It is waste of time to ask such questions. All these
   pretended fountains of knowledge had long been proved to be man-made
   cisterns, broken cisterns, which could hold no water. They satisfied no
   anxious mind. He that drank of these waters soon thirsted again.

   But the question which Peter asked is one which true Christians may
   always ask boldly, when they are tempted to go away from Christ. At
   this very day, when men tell us that Christianity is an effete and
   worn-out thing, we may safely challenge them to show us anything
   better. They may ply us, if they will, with objections to revealed
   religion, and say many things to which we can offer no reply. But,
   after all, we may confidently defy them to show us "a more excellent
   way," and more solid ground than that which is occupied by the man who
   simply believes all the Bible, and follows Christ.

   Grant for a moment, that in an hour of weakness we listen to the
   temptation to go away from Christ. Grant that we close our Bibles,
   reject all dogmas, and with a sublime contempt for the fossilized
   theology of our forefathers, content ourselves with a polished
   nothingarianism, or a few scraps of cold formality. In what respect
   shall we find that we have increased our happiness or usefulness? What
   solid thing shall we get to replace what we have left? Once turn your
   back on Christ, and where will you find peace for your conscience,
   strength for duty, power against temptation, comfort in trouble,
   support in the hour of death, hope in looking forward to the grave? You
   may well ask. Nothingarianism can give no answer. These things are only
   found by those who live the life of faith in a crucified and risen
   Christ.

   To whom, indeed, shall we go for help, strength, and comfort, if we
   turn our backs on Christ? We live in a world of troubles, whether we
   like it or not. You can no more stave off and prevent them than king
   Canute could prevent the tide rising and rudely swelling round the
   royal chair. Our bodies are liable to a thousand ailments, and our
   hearts to a thousand sorrows. No creature on earth is so vulnerable,
   and so capable of intense physical as well as mental suffering, as man.
   Sickness, and death, and funerals, and partings, and separations, and
   losses, and failures, and disappointments, and private family trials,
   which no mortal eye sees, will break in upon us from time to time; and
   human nature imperatively demands help, help, help to meet them! Alas,
   where will thirsty, wailing human nature find such help if we leave
   Christ?

   The plain truth is, that nothing but an almighty personal Friend will
   ever meet the legitimate wants of man's soul. Metaphysical notions,
   philosophical theories, abstract ideas, vague speculations about "the
   unseen, the infinite, the inner light," and so forth, may satisfy a
   select few for a time. But the vast majority of mankind, if they have
   any religion at all, will never be content with a religion which does
   not supply them with a Person to whom they may look and trust. It is
   just this craving after a person which gives the Mariolatry of Rome its
   curious power. And this principle once admitted, where will you find
   one so perfectly fitted to satisfy man as the Christ of the Bible? Look
   round the world, and point out, if you can, any object of faith fit to
   be compared with this blessed Son of God, set forth before our eyes in
   the Gospels. In face of a dying world we want positives and not
   negatives. "To whom shall we go, if we go away from Christ?"

   Men may tell us, if they please, that our old fountain of living waters
   is drying up, and that the nineteenth century needs a new theology. But
   I fail to see evidence to confirm this assertion. I see multitudes of
   men and women all over the world, after 1800 years, continuing to drink
   at this fountain; and none who honestly stoop to drink, complain that
   their thirst is not relieved. And all this time, those who profess to
   despise the good old fountain can show us nothing whatever to take its
   place. The mental freedom and higher light they promise are as
   deceptive as the mirage of the African desert, and as unreal as a
   dream. A substitute for the old fountain exists nowhere but in man's
   imagination. He that leaves it will find that he must return, or perish
   of thirst. Perhaps some of my younger readers may secretly think that
   the difficulties of revealed religion are inexplicable, and are trying
   to persuade themselves that they know not "where to go " in these dark
   and cloudy days. I entreat them to consider that the difficulties of
   unbelief are far greater than the difficulties of faith. When men have
   said all they can to depreciate the old paths of the Bible, and draw
   you away from Christ, -- when they have piled up the ancient, stale
   objections of various readings, doubtful authorship, inconsistent
   statements, and supposed incredible miracles, they can still offer no
   substitute for the Scripture, or answer the question, "To whom shall we
   go?" There still remains the great, broad fact that the leading
   evidences of revelation have never been overthrown, that we are weak
   creatures in a sorrowful world, and need a helping hand, which Christ
   alone holds out, and which millions for eighteen centuries have found,
   and are finding, sufficient. The great argument of probability is
   entirely on our side. Surely it is wiser to cling to Christ and
   Christianity, with all its alleged difficulties, than to launch on an
   ocean of uncertainties, and travel towards the grave hopeless,
   comfortless, and professing to know nothing at all about the unseen
   world.

   And, after all, departure from Christ on account of the supposed
   hardness of certain doctrines will secure no immunity from mental
   conflicts. The problems of Christianity may seem great and deep; but
   the problems of unbelief are greater and deeper still And not the least
   problem is the impossibility of answering the question, "Shall I find
   elsewhere any real peace or rest of soul, if I leave Christ? To whom
   shall I go? Where in all the world shall I find a more excellent way
   than that of faith in Jesus? Where is the personal friend who will
   supply His place?" Give me a thousand times rather the old Evangelical
   Christianity, with all its difficult facts and doctrines, the
   incarnation, the atonement, the resurrection, the ascension, than the
   cold, barren creed of the Socinian or the Deist, or the cheerless
   negations of modern unbelief. Give me the religion of texts and hymns
   and simple faith, which satisfies thousands, rather than the dreary
   void of speculative philosophy, which thoroughly satisfies none.

   III. Let us consider, lastly, the noble declaration which Simon .Peter
   makes in our text. " Thou hast the words of eternal life."

   I do not for a moment suppose that the Apostle fully grasped the
   meaning of the words which he here used. It would be inconsistent with
   all that we read of his knowledge, before our Lord's resurrection, to
   suppose that he did. It may well be doubted whether he meant more than
   this: "Thou art the true Messiah; Thou art the promised Prophet like
   unto Moses, of whom it is written, I will put My words in His mouth,
   and He shall speak unto them all that I shall command Him" (Deut.
   18:18). I believe that well-known text was in Peter's mind, though he
   did not yet realize its wealth of meaning.

   But of one thing we may be very sure. That expression "eternal life"
   must have been very familiar to him and all the twelve, while Jesus
   went in and out among them I suspect that there were few days when they
   did not hear it fall from His lips, and they caught it up if they did
   not fully understand it. In the brief record of our Lord's teaching,
   contained in the four Gospels, you have it twenty-five times. In St.
   John's Gospel alone it occurs seventeen times. In this very sixth
   chapter we read it five times over. No doubt it was ringing in Peter's
   ears when he spoke.

   But though Peter "knew not what he said" that day, there came a day
   when his understanding was opened, after his Lord's resurrection, and
   he saw heights and depths in the "words of eternal life" which before
   the crucifixion he only saw "through a glass darkly." And we, in the
   full light of the Acts and Epistles, need feel no doubt whatever as to
   the things which this mighty phrase, which our Lord so often used,
   included.

   Christ's words of eternal life were words about the nature of that life
   which He came into the world to proclaim, a life begum in the soul by
   faith while we live, and perfected in glory when we die.--They were
   words about the way in which this eternal life is provided for sinful
   man, even the way of His atoning death, as our Substitute, on the
   cross.--They were words about the terms on which this eternal life is
   made our own, if we feel our need of it, even the terms of simple
   faith. As Latimer said, it is but "believe and have."--They were words
   about "the training and discipline on the way to eternal life, which
   are so much needed by man and so richly provided, even the renewing and
   sanctifying grace of the Holy Ghost. They were words about the comforts
   and encouragements by the way, laid up for all who believe to life
   everlasting, even Christ's daily help, sympathy, and watchful care. All
   this and much more, of which I cannot nosy speak particularly, is
   contained in that little phrase, "Words of eternal life." No wonder
   that our Lord says in a certain place, "I am come that they might have
   life, and have it more abundantly;" "I have given them the words that
   Thou gavest Me" (John 10:10, 17:8).

   Let us consider for a moment what vast numbers of men and women, in
   these last eighteen centuries, have found these "words of eternal life"
   not merely "words," but solid realities. They have been persuaded of
   them, and embraced them, and found them meat and drink to their souls.
   We are compassed about with a great cloud of witnesses, who in the
   faith of these words have lived happy and useful lives, and died
   glorious deaths. Where is he that will dare to deny this? Where shall
   we find such lives and deaths without Christ?

   It was faith in Christ's "words of eternal life" which made Peter and
   John stand up boldly before the Jewish council, and confess their
   Master without fear of consequences, saying, "There is none other name
   given under heaven among men whereby we can be saved" (Acts 4:12).

   It was faith in Christ's "words of eternal life" which made Paul come
   out from Judaism, spend his life in preaching the gospel, and say on
   the brink of the grave, "I know whom I have believed, and that He is
   able to keep that which I have committed to Him against that day" (2
   Tim. 1:12).

   It was faith in Christ's "words of eternal life" which made Bishop
   Hooper go boldly to the stake at Gloucester, after saying, "Life is
   sweet, and death is bitter; but eternal life is more sweet, and eternal
   death more bitter."

   It was faith in Christ's "words of eternal life" which made Nicholas
   Ridley and Hugh Latimer endure a fiery death in Broad Street, Oxford,
   rather than deny the principles of the Reformation.

   It was faith in Christ's "words of eternal life" which made Henry
   Martyn turn his back on ease and distinction at Cambridge, go forth to
   a tropical climate, and die a solitary death as a missionary.

   It was faith in Christ's "words of eternal life" which made that
   honourable woman, Catherine Tait, as recorded in a most touching
   biography, resign five children in five weeks to the grave, in the full
   assurance that Christ would keep His word, take care of them both in
   body and soul, and bring them with Him to meet her at the last day.

   What a fearful contrast to such facts as these appears in the lives and
   deaths of those who turn their backs on Christ, and seek other masters!
   What fruits can the advocates of non-Christian theories, and ideas, and
   principles, point to with all their cleverness? What holy, loving,
   peaceful quietness of spirit have they exhibited? What victories have
   they won over darkness, immorality, superstition, and sin? What
   successful missions have they carried on? What seas have they crossed?
   What countries have they civilized or moralized? What neglected home
   populations have they improved? What self-denying labours have they
   gone through? What deliverance have they wrought in the earth? You may
   well ask; you will get no answer. No wonder our Lord said of false
   prophets, "By their fruits ye shall know them " (Matt. 7:15-16). It is
   only those who can say with Peter, "Thou hast the words of eternal
   life," who make a mark on mankind while they live, and say, " O death,
   where is thy sting?" when they die.

   (a) In conclusion, I entreat every one who reads this paper to ask
   himself whether he is going away from Christ, like the Jews, or
   clinging boldly to Christ, like Peter. You live in dangerous days.
   There was a time when irreligion was scarcely respectable; but that
   time has long ceased to be. But even now Christ continues to knock at
   the door of your hearts, and asks you to ponder your ways and take heed
   what you do. "Will ye go away?" Dare to set up an assize in your heart
   of hearts, and look within. Resist the lazy Epicurean feeling which
   bids you never scrutinize your inward character. Depend on it, an hour
   will come when you will feel the need of a great Friend in heaven.
   Without Him you may live tolerably: without Him you will never
   comfortably die.

   You may tell me, perhaps, that you do not really mean to forsake
   Christ, although you are not at present all that you ought to be. But
   there are some things in religion about which you cannot make up your
   mind, and are waiting for more light. Or you are working hard for some
   special object, and have not time just now, and hope, like Felix, for
   "a convenient season." But, oh! waiting, lingering soul, what is
   neglect of Christ's word, and ordinances, and day, but "going away from
   Christ"? Awake to see that you are on an inclined plane, and are
   gradually going downward. You are drifting, drifting daily, further,
   further away from God. Awake, and resolve, by God's help, to drift no
   more.

   (b) But, next to having no religion at all, I entreat every reader of
   this paper to beware of a religion in which Christ has not His rightful
   place. Let us never try to satisfy ourselves with a little cheap,
   formal Christianity, taken up carelessly on Sunday morning, and laid
   aside at night, but not influencing us during the week. Such
   Christianity will neither give us peace in life, nor hope in death, nor
   power to resist temptation, nor comfort in trouble. Christ only has
   "the words of eternal life," and His words must be received, believed,
   embraced, and made the meat and drink of our souls. A Christianity
   without living, felt communion with Him, without grasp of the benefits
   of His blood and intercession, a Christianity without Christ's
   sacrifice and Christ's Priesthood, is a powerless, wearisome form.

   (c) Let us, finally, "hold fast the profession of our faith without
   wavering," if we have reason to hope we are Christ's true servants. Let
   men laugh at us, and try to turn us away as much as they please. Let us
   calmly and humbly say to ourselves at such times: "' After all, to whom
   can I go if I leave Christ? ' I feel within that He has ' words of
   eternal life.' I see that thousands find them meat and drink to their
   souls. Where He goes, I will go; and where He lodges, I will lodge. In
   a dying world, I can see nothing better. I will cling to Christ and His
   words. They never failed any one who trusted them, and I believe they
   will not fail me."
     __________________________________________________________________

   [12] The substance of these pages was originally preached as a sermon
   before the University of Oxford, in my turn as Select Preacher at St.
   [remainder of note missing].
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XII
  Heb. 4:14.
  OUR PROFESSION

   "Seeing then that we have a great High Priest, that is passed into the
   heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession."--Heb.
   4:14.

   A CAREFUL reader of the Epistle to the Hebrews can hardly fail to
   observe that the words "let us" are found no less than four times in
   the fourth chapter. In the first verse you will read, "let us
   fear,"--in the eleventh verse, "let us labour,"--in the fourteenth
   verse, "let us hold fast,"--and in the sixteenth verse, "let us come
   boldly to the throne of grace." We should take note of this.

   Now why did the Apostle St. Paul write in this way? He did it because
   the Hebrew Christians, to whom he wrote, were a peculiar people, and
   occupied a peculiar position. They were not like Gentile converts, who
   had been brought up to worship idols, and had never received any
   revelation from God. The Jews were a people who had enjoyed the special
   favour of God for fifteen hundred years. All through that long period
   they had possessed the law of Moses, and an immense amount of spiritual
   light, which had not been given to any other nation on earth. These
   privileges had made them very sensitive and jealous at the idea of any
   change. They needed to be approached very gently and delicately, and to
   be addressed in a peculiar style. All this St. Paul, himself born a
   Jew, remembered well. He puts himself on a level with them, and says,
   "Let us,--I speak to myself as well as to you, lest I should offend
   you."

   But this is not all. I might add that the Jewish Christians had very
   peculiar trials to undergo. I suspect they were far more persecuted and
   ill-used after their conversion than the Gentile Christians were. :No
   doubt it was a hard thing for a Gentile to turn from idols. But it was
   a much harder thing for a Jew to profess that he was not content with
   the ceremonial law of Moses, and that he had found a better priest, and
   a better sacrifice, even Jesus of Nazareth, and the blood of the cross.
   This also St. Paul remembered well, and he cheers and encourages them
   by placing himself by their side, and saying, "Let us fear,"----" let
   us labour,"--" let us hold fast,"--" let us come boldly,"--" I am as
   you are, we are all in the same boat."

   I shall confine myself in this paper to the text which heads it, and I
   shall try to answer three questions.

   I. What is this profession of which St. Paul speaks?

   II. Why does St. Paul say, "Let us hold fast"?

   III. What is the grand encouragement which St. Paul gives us to "hold
   fast"?

   Before I go any further, I ask my readers to remember that the things
   we are about to consider were written by inspiration of the Holy Ghost
   for the benefit of the whole Church of Christ in every age down to the
   end of the world. They were meant to be used by all true Christians in
   England, and by all classes, whether high or low, rich or poor, in
   London, or Liverpool, or in any part of the earth. The Epistle to the
   Hebrews is not an old worn-out letter which only suits the Jews of
   eighteen centuries ago. It is meant for you and me.

   We all need to be exhorted to "hold fast our profession."

   I. Let us begin by considering what is meant by "our profession."

   When St. Paul uses this expression, there can be little doubt about his
   meaning. He meant that public "profession" of faith in Christ and
   obedience to Him, which every person made when he became a member of
   the Christian Church. In the days of the Apostle, when a man or woman
   left Judaism or heathenism, and received Christ as a Saviour, he
   declared himself a Christian by certain acts. He did it by being
   publicly baptized, by joining the company of those who had been
   baptized already, by publicly promising to give up idolatry and
   wickedness of all kinds, and by habitually taking part with the
   followers of Jesus of Nazareth in all their religious assemblies, their
   ways, and their practices. This is what St. Paul had in view when he
   wrote the words, "Let us hold fast our profession."

   Profession in those days was a very serious matter, and entailed very
   serious consequences. It often brought on a man persecution, loss of
   property, imprisonment, and even death. The consequence was that few
   persons ever made a Christian profession in the early Church unless
   they were thoroughly in earnest, truly converted, and really believers.
   No doubt there were some exceptions. People like Ananias and Sapphira,
   and Simon Magus, and Demas, crept in and joined themselves to the
   disciples. But these were exceptional cases. As a general rule, it was
   not worth while for a man to profess Christianity if his heart was not
   entirely in his profession. It cost much. It brought on a man the risk
   of a vast amount of trouble, and brought in very little gain. The whole
   result was, that the proportion of sincere, right-hearted, and
   converted persons in the Church of the Apostle's days was far greater
   than it ever has been at any other period in the last eighteen
   centuries. There was a very deep meaning in St. Paul's words when he
   said, "Let us hold fast our profession."

   In the days in which we live, "profession" is a very different thing.
   Millions of people profess and call themselves Christians, whom the
   Apostle would not have called Christians at all. Millions are annually
   baptized, and added to the rolls and registers of churches, who have
   little or no religion. Many of them live and die without ever attending
   a place of worship, and live very ungodly lives. Many more only go to a
   church or chapel occasionally, or once on Sunday at the most. Many
   others pass through life without ever becoming communicants, and live
   and die in the habitual neglect of that Holy Sacrament which the Lord
   commanded to be received. Most of these people are reckoned Christians
   while they live, and are buried with Christian burial when they die.
   But what would St. Paul have said of them? I fear there can be no doubt
   about the answer. He would have said they did not deserve to be
   reckoned members of any Church at all! He would not have addressed them
   as "saints and faithful brethren in Christ Jesus." He would not have
   called upon them to "hold fast their profession." He would have told
   them they had no profession to hold fast, and that they were "yet dead
   in trespasses and sins" (Eph. 2:1). All this is sorrowful and painful,
   but it is only too true. Let those deny it who dare.

   Let us, however, thank God that there are not a few to be found in
   every part of Christendom who really are what they profess to be--true,
   sincere, earnest-minded, hearty, converted, believing Christians. Some
   of them, no doubt, belong to churches in which their souls get little
   help. Some of them have very imperfect knowledge, and hold the truth in
   solution, with a mixture of many defective views. But they have all
   certain common marks about them. They see the value of their souls, and
   really want to be saved. They feel the sinfulness of sin, and hate it,
   and fight with it, and long to be free from it. They see that Jesus
   Christ alone can save them, and that they ought to trust only in Him.
   They see that they ought to live holy and godly lives, and in their
   poor way they try to do it. They love their Bibles, and they pray,
   though both their reading and their praying are very defective. Some of
   them, in short, are in the highest standard of Christ's school, and are
   strong in knowledge, faith, and love. Others are only in the infants'
   room, and in everything are weak and poor. But in one point they are
   all one. Their hearts are right in the sight of God; they love Christ;
   their faces are set towards heaven, and they want to go there. These
   are those in the present day to whom I wish in this paper to apply St.
   Paul's exhortation, "Let us hold fast our profession." Let us cling to
   it, and not let it go.

   Now I cannot forget that we meet thousands of persons in daily life who
   are always saying, "I make no profession of religion." They not only
   say it, but rather glory in saying it, as if it was a right, wise, and
   proper thing to say. They seem even to despise those who make a
   profession, and to regard them as hypocrites and impostors, or, at any
   rate, as weak and foolish people. If this paper happens to fall into
   the hands of any person of this kind, I have somewhat to say to him,
   and I invite his best attention.

   I do not deny that there are many hypocrites in religion. There always
   were, and there always will be, as long as the world stands. As long as
   there is good gold and silver coin in the realm, so long there will be
   forging, coining, and counterfeit money. The very existence of bad
   coins is an indirect proof that there is something which it is worth
   while to imitate, and that there is such a thing as good current money
   in circulation. It is just the same with Christianity! The very fact
   that there are many false professors in the churches is an indirect
   proof that there are such persons as true-hearted and sound believers.
   It is one of Satan's favourite devices, in order to bring discredit on
   Christianity, to persuade some unhappy people to profess what they do
   not really believe. He tries to damage the cause of our Lord Jesus
   Christ in the world by sending out wolves in sheep's clothing, and by
   raising up men and women who talk the language of Canaan, and wear the
   coat of God's children, while they are inwardly rotten at heart. But
   these things do not justify a man in condemning all religious
   profession.

   I tell those who boast that they make no profession, that they are only
   exhibiting their own sorrowful ignorance of Holy Scripture. The
   hypocrisy of some unhappy people must never prevent us doing our own
   duty, without caring what men may say or think of us. We must never be
   ashamed of showing ourselves boldly on Christ's side, by honouring His
   word, His day, and His ordinances, by speaking up for Christ's cause on
   all proper occasions, and by firmly refusing to conform to the sins and
   the follies of the children of this world. The words of our Lord Jesus
   Christ ought never to be forgotten: "Whosoever shall be ashamed of Me
   and of My words, of him shall the Son of man be ashamed when He shall
   come in His own glory, and in His Father's, and of the holy angels"
   (Luke 9:26). If we will not confess Christ upon earth, and openly
   profess that we are His servants, we must not expect that Christ will
   confess us in heaven at the last day.

   In short, the very last thing that a man should be ashamed of is the
   "profession" of religion. There are many things unhappily of which most
   people seem not ashamed at all. Ill-temper, selfishness, want of
   charity, laziness, malice, backbiting, lying, slandering, intemperance,
   impurity, gambling, Sabbath-breaking,--all these are terribly common
   things among men, and of most of them people do not seem a bit ashamed,
   though they ought to be! They that habitually "do such things will not
   inherit the kingdom of God" (Gal. 5:21). But of Bible-reading, praying,
   holy living, and working for the good of bodies and souls, no one ever
   need be ashamed. These may be things which many laugh at, dislike, and
   despise, and have no taste for, but they are the very things with which
   God is well pleased. Once more, I repeat, whatever men may say, the
   very last thing of which we ought to be ashamed is our "profession" of
   faith in Christ, and obedience to Christ.

   II. Let us, in the second place, consider, Why St. Paul says, "Let us
   hold fast our profession." The answer to this question is threefold,
   and demands the serious attention of all who hope that they are really
   sincere in their Christian profession.

   (a) For one thing, OUR HEARTS are always weak and foolish, even after
   conversion. We may have passed from death to life, and be renewed in
   the spirit of our minds. We may see the value of our souls, as we once
   did not. We may have become new creatures; old things may have passed
   away, and all things may have become new. But believers must never
   forget that until they die they carry about with them a weak, foolish,
   and treacherous heart. The roots of all manner of evil are still within
   us, although cut down to the ground by the grace of the Holy Ghost.
   Whether we like to acknowledge it or not, there are within us, at our
   very best, latent dislike of trouble, secret desire to please man and
   keep in with the world, carelessness about our private Bible-reading
   and our prayers, envy and jealousy of others, laziness about doing
   good, selfishness and desire to have our own way, forgetfulness of the
   wishes of others, and want of watchfulness over our own besetting sins.
   All these things are often lying hid within us, and below the surface
   of our hearts. The holiest saint may find to his cost some day that
   they are all there alive, and ready to show themselves. No wonder that
   our Lord Jesus said to the three Apostles in the garden, "Watch and
   pray, lest ye enter into temptation. The spirit truly is ready, but the
   flesh is weak" (Mark 14:38). I have no doubt that St. Paul had the
   heart in view, when he wrote those words, "Hold fast." "Let us
   therefore hold fast our profession"

   (b) For another thing, the world is a source of immense danger to the
   Christian soul From the day that we are converted, we are living in a
   most unhealthy atmosphere for religion. We live and move and have our
   being in the midst of a vast multitude of people who are utterly
   without vital Christianity. In every rank of life we meet with hundreds
   who, however moral and respectable, seem to care for nothing but such
   things as these,--What shall I eat? What shall I drink? What can I get?
   What can I spend? How shall I employ my time? What profit can I make?
   What amusement can I have? What pleasant company can I enjoy! As for
   God, and Christ, and the Holy Ghost, and the Bible, and prayer, and
   repentance, and faith, and holy living, and doing good in the world,
   and death, and resurrection, and judgment, and heaven and hell, they
   are subjects which never appear to come across them except in sickness,
   or at a funeral. Now to live constantly in the midst of such people, as
   a Christian must do, is sure to be a great trial to him, and requires
   constant watchfulness to prevent his getting harm. We are incessantly
   tempted to give way about little things, and to make compromises and
   concessions. We naturally dislike giving offence to others, and having
   frictions and collisions with relatives, friends, and neighbours. We do
   not like to be laughed at and ridiculed by the majority, and to feel
   that we are always in a minority in every company into which we go. I
   fear that too many are laughed out of heaven and laughed into hell. It
   is a true saying of Solomon, "The fear of man bringeth a snare" (Prov.
   29:25). I once knew a brave sergeant of a cavalry regiment, who, after
   living to the age of fifty without any religion, became for the last
   few years of his life a decided Christian. He told me that when he
   first began to think about his soul, and to pray, some months passed
   away before he dare tell his wife that he said his prayers; and that he
   used to creep upstairs without his boots at evening, that his wife
   might not hear him, and find out what he was doing!

   The plain truth is, that "the whole world lieth in wickedness" (1 John
   5:19), and it is vain to ignore the danger that the world causes to the
   believer's soul. The spirit of the world, and the tone of the world,
   and the tastes of the world, and the air of the world, and the breath
   of the world, are continually about him every day that he lives,
   drawing him down and pulling him back. If he does not keep his faith in
   lively exercise, he is sure to catch infection, and take damage, like
   the travellers through the Campagna at Rome, who take a fever without
   being aware of it at the time. The most mischievous and unsanitary gas
   is that which our bodily senses do not detect. We have reason to pray
   continually for an increase of that faith of which St. John says, "that
   it gives us the victory over the world" (1 John 5:4). Happy, indeed, is
   that Christian who can be in the world and yet not of the world, who
   can do his duty in it, and yet not be conformed to it, who can pass
   through it unmoved by its smiles or its frowns, its flattery or its
   enmity, its open opposition or its playful ridicule, its sweets or its
   bitters, its gold or its sword! When I think what the world is, and see
   what harm it has done and is doing to souls, I do not wonder that St.
   Paul says, "Hold fast." "Let us hold fast our profession."

   (e) For one thing more, the devil is a constant enemy to the
   Christian's soul. That great, sleepless, and unwearied foe is always
   labouring to do us harm. It is his constant object to wound, hurt, vex,
   injure, or weaken, if he cannot kill and destroy. He is an unseen enemy
   who is always near us, "about our path, and about our bed," and spying
   out all our ways, prepared to suit his temptations to the special weak
   points of every man. He knows us far better than we know ourselves. He
   has been studying one book for 6000 years, the book of fallen human
   nature, and he is a spirit of almost boundless subtlety and cunning,
   and of boundless malice. The best of saints has little idea how many
   vile suggestions in his heart come from the devil, and what a restless
   adversary stands at his right hand.

   This is he who tempted Eve at the beginning, and persuaded her that she
   might disobey God, eat the forbidden fruit and not die. m This is he
   who tempted David to number the people, and to cause the death of
   70,000 of his subjects by pestilence in three days.--This is he who
   tried to tempt our Lord in the wilderness immediately after His
   baptism, and even quoted Scripture to gain his end. This is he who
   opposed our Lord all throughout His three years' ministry, sometimes by
   possessing the bodies of unhappy men and women in a most mysterious
   manner, and at last by putting it into the heart of one of His Apostles
   to betray Him.--This is he who constantly opposed the Apostles after
   our Lord's ascension, and tried to stop the progress of the
   gospel.--This is he of whom St. Paul testifies that even "Satan is
   transformed into an angel of light," and that false teachers are his
   agents (2 Cor. 11:14).

   Does any reader of this paper foolishly suppose that the devil is
   asleep, or dead, or less mischievous now than in old time? Nothing of
   the kind! He is still " walking about like a roaring lion, seeking whom
   he may devour." He is still "going to and fro in the earth, and walking
   up and down in it" (1 Pet. 5:8; Job 1:7). It is he who goes among
   heathen nations and persuades them to shed oceans of blood in the
   worship of idols, or murderous wars. It is he who goes to and fro
   amongst fallen Churches, persuading them to throw aside the Bible, and
   satisfy people with formal worship or grovelling superstitions.--It is
   he who walks up and down in Protestant countries, and stirs up party
   spirit, and bitter political strife, setting class against class, and
   subjects against rulers, in order to distract men's minds from better
   things.--It is he who is continually going to the ears of intellectual
   and highly educated men, persuading them that the old Bible is not
   true, and advising them to be content with Atheism, Theism,
   Agnosticism, Secularism, and a general contempt for the world to come.
   It is he, above all, who persuades foolish people that there is no such
   person as a devil, and no future judgment after death, and no hell. In
   all this fearful list of things I firmly believe that the devil lies at
   the bottom, and is the true root, reason, and cause. Can we suppose for
   a moment that he will let true Christians go quietly to heaven, and not
   tempt them by the way?

   Away with the silly thought! We have need to pray against the devil, as
   well as against the world and the flesh. In the great trinity of
   enemies which the believer should daily remember, the devil perhaps is
   the greatest because he is the least seen. Nothing delights him so much
   (if, indeed, he can be delighted at all) as to injure a true Christian,
   and make him bring discredit on his religion. When I think of the
   devil, I do not wonder that St. Paul said, "Hold fast." "Let us hold
   fast our profession."

   Now I suspect that some reader of this paper may be secretly thinking
   that I am an alarmist, and that there is no need of such watchfulness,
   carefulness, and "holding fast." I ask such a person to turn with me to
   the Bible for a few moments, and to consider seriously what that
   blessed book teaches.

   I ask him to remember that Judas Iscariot and Demas both began well,
   and made a good profession. One was a chosen Apostle of our Lord Jesus
   Christ, a constant companion of our blessed Saviour for three years. He
   walked with Him, talked with Him, heard His teaching, saw His miracles,
   and up to the very night before our Lord was crucified was never
   thought a worse man than Peter, James, or John. Yet this unhappy man at
   last let go his profession, betrayed his Master, came to a miserable
   end, and went to his own place.--The other man whom I named, Demas, was
   a chosen companion of the Apostle St. Paul, and professed to be of like
   mind with that eminent man of God. There can be little doubt that for
   some years he journeyed with him, helped him, and took part in his
   evangelistic labours. But how did it all end? He gave up his
   profession, and the last Epistle St. Paul wrote contains this
   melancholy record: " Demas has forsaken me, having loved this present
   world" (2 Tim. 4:10). We never hear of him again.

   To every one who thinks I have dwelt too much on the Christian's
   dangers, I say this day, Remember Demas, remember Judas Iscariot,
   tighten your grasp, "hold fast your profession," and beware. We may
   appear to men to be very good Christians for a season, and yet prove at
   last to be stony-ground hearers, and destitute of a wedding garment.

   But this is not all. I ask every believer to remember that if he does
   not "hold fast," he may pierce himself through with many sorrows, and
   bring great discredit on his character. We should never forget David's
   awful fall in the matter of the wife of Uriah, and Peter's
   thrice-repeated denial of his Master, and Cranmer's temporary
   cowardice, of which he so bitterly repented at last. Are we greater and
   stronger than they? "Let us not be high-minded, but fear." There is a
   godly fear which is of great use to the soul. It was the great Apostle
   of the Gentiles who wrote these words: "I keep under my body, and bring
   it into subjection; lest, after I have preached to others, I myself
   should be a castaway" (1 Cor. 9:27).

   Does any Christian reader of these pages desire much happiness in his
   religion, and much joy and peace in believing? Let him take an old
   minister's advice this day, and ': hold fast his profession." Let him
   resolve to be very thorough, very decided, very watchful, very careful
   about the state of his soul. The more boldly he shows his colours, and
   the more uncompromising and firm he is, the lighter will he find his
   heart, and the more sensibly will he feel the sun shining on his face.
   None are so happy in God's service as decided Christians. When John
   Rogers, the first martyr in Queen Mary's time, was being led to
   Smithfield to be burned, the French Ambassador reported that he looked
   as bright and cheerful as if he were going to his wedding.

   Does any Christian reader of these pages desire much usefulness to
   others in his religion? Let me assure him that none do so much good in
   the long run of life, and leave such a mark on their generation, as
   those who "hold fast their profession" most tightly, and are most
   decided servants of Christ. Few men, perhaps, did more for the cause of
   the Protestant Reformation, and shook the power of Rome more completely
   in this country, than the two noble bishops who were burned back to
   back at one stake in Oxford, and would not let go their faith to save
   their lives. I need not say that I refer to Ridley and Latimer. The
   careless, thoughtless, irreligious world takes notice of such men, and
   is obliged to allow that there is something real and solid in their
   religion. The more light shines in our lives, the more good shall we do
   in the world. It is not for nothing that our Lord says, in the Sermon
   on the Mount, "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see
   your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven" (Matt.
   5:16).

   Let us gather up all these things in our memories, and never forget
   them. Let it be a settled principle in our minds, that it is of
   immeasurable importance to our happiness and usefulness to "hold fast
   our profession," and to be always on our guard. Let us dismiss from our
   minds the crude modern idea that a believer has only got to sit still,
   and "yield himself" to God. Let us rather maintain the language of
   Scripture, and strive to "mortify the deeds of our body," to "crucify
   our flesh," to "cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and
   spirit," to wrestle, to fight, and live the soldier's life (Rom. 8:13;
   Gal. 5:24; 2 Cor. 7:1; Eph. 6:12; 1 Tim. 6:12; 2 Tim. 2:3). One might
   think that the account of the armour of God in the Epistle to the
   Ephesians ought to settle the question of our duty. But the plain truth
   is, men will persist in confounding two things that differ, that is
   justification and sanctification. In justification, the word to be
   addressed to man is, Believe, only believe. In sanctification, the word
   must be, Watch, pray, and fight. What God has divided, let us not
   mingle and confuse. I can find no words to express my own deep sense of
   the immense importance of "holding fast our profession."

   III. In the last place, let us consider what encouragement there is to
   Christians to hold fast their profession.

   The Apostle St. Paul was singularly fitted, both by grace and nature,
   to handle this subject. Of all the inspired writers in the New
   Testament, none seems to have been so thoroughly taught of God to deal
   with the conflicts of the human heart as St. Paul. None was better
   acquainted with the dangers, diseases, and remedies of the soul. The
   proof of this is to be seen in the seventh chapter of his Epistle to
   the Romans, and the fifth chapter of his Second Epistle to the
   Corinthians. Those two chapters ought to be frequently studied by every
   Christian who wishes to understand his own heart.

   Now what is the ground of encouragement which St. Paul proposes? He
   tells us to "hold fast our profession," and not let it go, because "we
   have a great High Priest that is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son
   of God."

   That word "High Priest" would ring with power in the ears of a Jewish
   reader far more than it would in the ears of Gentile Christians. It
   would stir up in his mind the remembrance of many typical things in the
   service of the tabernacle and temple. It would make him recollect that
   the Jewish high priest was a kind of mediator between God and the
   people;--that he alone went once every year into the Holy of Holies on
   the day of atonement, and had access through the veil to the
   mercy-seat;--that he was a kind of daysman between the twelve tribes
   and God, to lay his hand on both (Job. 9:33);--that he was the chief
   minister over the house of God, who was intended "to have compassion on
   the ignorant and them that were out of the way" (Heb. 5:2). All these
   things would give the Jews some idea of what St. Paul meant when he
   said, "Let us hold fast," because we have got a great High Priest in
   heaven. The plain truth is, that the Christian is meant to understand
   that we have a mighty, living Friend in heaven, who not only died for
   us, but rose again, and after rising again took His seat at the right
   hand of God, to be our Advocate and Intercessor with the Father until
   He comes again. We are meant to understand that Christ not only died
   for us, but is alive for us, and actively working on our behalf at this
   very day. In short, the encouragement that St. Paul holds out to
   believers is, the living priesthood of Jesus Christ.

   Is not this exactly what he meant when he told the Hebrews that Christ
   is "able to save them to the uttermost who come unto God by Him,
   because He ever liveth to make intercession for them" (Heb. 7:25)? --Is
   not this what he meant when he told the Romans, "If, when we were
   enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, much more,
   being reconciled, we shall be saved by His life" (Rom. 5:10)?--Is not
   this what he meant when he wrote that glorious challenge, "Who is he
   that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea, rather, that is risen
   again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh
   intercession for us" (Rom. 8:34)? Here, in one word, is the believer's
   fountain of consolation. He is not only to look to a Saviour who died
   as his Substitute, and shed His blood for him, but to a Saviour who
   also after His resurrection took His seat at God's right hand, and
   lives there as his constant Intercessor and Priest.

   Let us think for a moment what a wonderful and suitable High Priest is
   the High Priest of our profession, a million times superior to any high
   priest of the family of Aaron.

   Jesus is a High Priest of almighty power, for He is very God of very
   God, never slumbering, never sleeping, never dying, and eternal. The
   Jewish high priests were "not suffered to continue by reason of death"
   (Heb. 7:23), but Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more. Our
   great High Priest never grows old, and never dies (Rom. 6:9).

   Jesus is a High Priest who is perfect Man as well as perfect God. He
   knows what our bodies are, for He had a body Himself, and is acquainted
   with all its sinless weakness and pains. He knows what hunger, and
   thirst, and suffering are, for He lived for thirty-three years upon
   earth, and knows the physical nature of an infant, a child, a boy, a
   young man, and a man of full age. "He hath suffered Himself, being
   tempted" (Heb. 2:18).

   Jesus is a High Priest of matchless sympathy. He can be "touched with
   the feeling of our infirmities" (Heb. 4:15). His heart was always
   overflowing with love, pity, and compassion while He was on earth. He
   wept at the grave of Lazarus. He wept over unbelieving Jerusalem. He
   had an ear ready to hear every cry for help, and was ever going about
   doing good to the sick and the afflicted. One of His last thoughts on
   the cross was one of care for His mother, and one of His first messages
   after His resurrection was one of "peace" to His poor fallen Apostles.
   And He is not changed. He has carried that wonderful heart up to
   heaven, and is ever watching the weakest lamb in His flock with
   merciful tenderness.

   Jesus is a High Priest of perfect wisdom. He knows exactly what each of
   us is, and what each of us requires. "He will not suffer us to be
   tempted above that which we are able to bear" (1 Cor. 10:13), nor allow
   us to remain in the furnace of suffering one moment beyond the time
   that is required for our refining. He will give us strength according
   to our day, and grace according to our need. He knows the most secret
   feelings of our hearts, and understands the meaning of our feeblest
   prayers. He is not like Aaron, and Eli, and Abiathar, and Annas, and
   Caiaphas, an erring and imperfect high priest in dealing with those who
   come to Him, and spread out their petitions before Him. He never makes
   any mistakes.

   I challenge every reader of this paper to tell me, if he can, what
   greater consolation and encouragement the soul of man can have than the
   possession of such a High Priest as this? We do not think enough of Him
   in these days. We talk of His death, and His sacrifice, and His blood,
   and His atonement, and His finished work on the cross; and no doubt we
   can never make too much of these glorious subjects. But we err greatly
   if we stop short here. We ought to look beyond the cross and the grave,
   to the life, the priesthood, and the constant intercession of Christ
   our Lord. Unless we do this, we have only a defective view of Christian
   doctrine. The consequences of neglecting this part of our Lord's
   offices are very serious, and have done great harm to the Church and
   the world.

   Young men and women in all our churches, and generally speaking, all
   new believers, are taking immense damage for want of right teaching
   about the priestly office of Christ. They feel within themselves a
   daily craving after help, and grace, and strength, and guidance in
   running the race set before them along the narrow way of life. It does
   not satisfy them to hear that they ought to be always looking back to
   the cross and the atonement. There is something within them which
   whispers that they would like to have a living friend. Then comes the
   devil, and suggests that they ought to go to earthly priests, and make
   confession, and receive absolution, and keep up the habit of doing this
   continually. They axe often fax too ready to believe it, and foolishly
   try to supply the hunger of their souls by extravagantly frequent
   reception of the Lord's Supper, and submitting to the spiritual
   directorship of some clergyman- All this is little better than
   religious opium-eating and dram-drinking. It soothes the heart for a
   little season, but does no real good, and often results in bringing
   souls into a state of morbid superstitious bondage. It is not the
   medicine which Scripture has provided. The truth which all believers,
   and especially young men and women in these days, have need to be told
   is the truth of Christ's life in heaven, and priestly intercession fox
   us. We need no earthly confessor, and no earthly priest. There is only
   one Priest to whom we ought to go with our daffy wants, even Jesus the
   Son of God. It is impossible to find one more mighty, more loving, more
   wise, more ready to help than He is. It is a wise saying of an old
   divine, that "the eyes of a believer ought to be fixed on Christ in all
   his dealings with God. The one eye is to be set on His oblation, and
   the other on His intercession." Let us never forget this. The true
   secret of holding fast our profession is to be continually exercising
   faith in the priestly office of Christ, and making use of it every day.

   He that acts on this principle will find it possible to serve God and
   be a Christian in any position, however hard it may be. He need not
   suppose for a moment, that he cannot have true religion without
   retiring from the world, and going into a monastery, or living like a
   hermit in a cave. A young woman must not suppose that she cannot serve
   God in her own family, because of unconverted parents, brothers, and
   sisters, and that she must-go into some "Religious House;' so called,
   in company with a few like-minded women. All such ideas are senseless
   and unscriptural; they come from beneath, and not from above. At school
   or in college, in the army or the navy, in the bank or at the bar, in
   the merchant's house or on 'Change, it is possible for a man to serve
   God. As a daughter at home, or a teacher in a high school, or an
   assistant in a house of business, a woman can serve God, and must never
   give way to the cowardly thought that it is impossible. But how is it
   all to be done? Simply by living the life of faith in the Son of God,
   by continually looking back to Him on the cross, and to the fountain of
   His blood for daily pardon and peace of conscience, and by daily
   looking up to Him at the right hand of God interceding for us, and
   daily drawing from Him supplies of grace in this world of need. This is
   the sum of the whole matter. We have a great High Priest who is passed
   into the heavens, and through Him it is possible not only to begin, but
   to "hold fast" our profession.

   I will now conclude this paper by addressing a few words of direct
   practical exhortation to every reader into whose hands it may happen to
   fall.

   (a) Do you belong to that huge class of so-called Christians who make
   no profession of religion at all? Alas! it is a pity this class should
   be so large; but it is vain to shut our eyes to the fact that it is
   very large. These of whom I speak are not atheists or infidels; they
   would not for a moment like to be told they are not Christians. They go
   to places of worship, they think Christianity a very proper thing for
   baptisms, weddings, and funerals. They say grace before and after
   dinner; they like their children to have some religion in their
   education. But they never seem to get any further; they shrink from
   making a "profession." It is useless to tell them to "hold fast,"
   because they have nothing to hold.

   I ask such persons, in all affection and kindness, to consider how
   unreasonable and inconsistent their position is. Most of them believe
   the Apostles' Creed. They believe there is a God, and a world to come
   after death, and a resurrection, and a judgment, and a life
   everlasting. But what can be more senseless than to believe all these
   vast realities, and yet to travel on towards the grave without any
   preparation for the great future? You will not deny that you will have
   to meet the Lord Jesus Christ, the Judge of all, when the last trumpet
   sounds, and you will stand before the great white throne. But where
   will you be in that awful day, if you have never professed faith, love,
   and obedience to that Judge during the time of your life upon earth?
   How can you possibly expect Him to confess and own you in that hour, if
   you have been afraid or ashamed to confess Him, and to declare yourself
   boldly upon His side, while you are upon earth?

   Think of these things, I beseech you, and change your plan of life.
   Cast aside vain excuses and petty reasons for delay. Resolve by the
   grace of God to lay firm hold on Jesus Christ, and to enlist like a man
   under HIS banners. That blessed Saviour will receive you just as you
   are, however unworthy you may feel yourself. Wait for nothing, and wait
   for nobody. Begin to pray this very day, and to pray real, lively,
   fervent prayers, such as the penitent thief prayed upon the cross. Take
   down your long-neglected Bible, and begin to read it. Break off every
   known bad habit. Seek the company and friendship of thoroughgoing
   Christians. Give up going to places where your soul can get nothing but
   harm. In one word, begin to make "a profession," fearing neither the
   laughter nor the scorn of man. The word of the Lord Jesus is for you as
   well as another: "Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out"
   (John 6:37). I have seen many people on their death-beds, but I never
   met with one who said he was sorry he had made a "profession" of
   religion.

   (b) In the last place, do you belong to that much smaller class of
   persons who really profess Christian faith, and Christian obedience,
   and are trying, however weakly, to follow Christ in the midst of an
   evil world. I think I know something of what goes on in your hearts.
   You sometimes feel that you will never persevere to the end, and will
   be obliged some day to give up your profession. You are sometimes
   tempted to write bitter things against yourself, and to fancy you have
   got no grace at all. I am afraid there are myriads of true Christians
   in this condition, who go trembling and doubting toward heaven, with
   Despondency, and Much-Afraid, and Fearing in the Pilgrim's Progress,
   and fear they will never get to the Celestial City at all. But oddly
   enough, in spite of all their groans and doubts and fears, they do not
   turn back to the city from which they came (Heb. 11:15). They press on,
   though faint, yet pursuing, and, as John Wesley used to say of his
   people, "they end well."

   Now, my advice to all such persons, if any of them are reading this
   paper, is very simple. Say every morning and evening of your life,
   "Lord, increase my faith." Cultivate the habit of fixing your eye more
   simply on Jesus Christ, and try to know more of the fulness there is
   laid up in Him for every one of His believing people. Do not be always
   poring down over the imperfections of your own heart, and dissecting
   your own besetting sins. Look up. Look more to your risen Head in
   heaven, and try to realize more than you do that the Lord Jesus not
   only died for you, but that He also rose again, and that He is ever
   living at God's right hand as your Priest, your Advocate, and your
   Almighty Friend. When the Apostle Peter "walked upon the waters to go
   to Jesus," he got on very well as long as his eye was fixed upon his
   Almighty Master and Saviour. But when he looked away to the winds and
   waves, and reasoned, and considered his own strength, and the weight of
   his body, he soon began to sink, and cried, "Lord, save me." No wonder
   that our gracious Lord, while grasping his hand and delivering him from
   a watery grave, said, "O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou
   doubt?" Alas! many of us are very like Peter,-we look away from Jesus,
   and then our hearts faint, and we feel sinking (Matt. 14:28-31).

   Think, last of all, how many millions of men and women like yourself
   have got safe home during the last eighteen hundred years. Like you,
   they have had their battles and their conflicts, their doubts and their
   fears. Some of them have had very little "joy and peace in believing,"
   and were almost surprised when they woke up in Paradise. Some of them
   enjoyed full assurance, and strong consolation, and have entered the
   haven of eternal life, like a gallant ship in full sail And who are
   these last that have done so? Those who have not only held their
   profession between finger and thumb, but have grasped it firmly with
   both hands, and have been ready to die for Christ, rather than not
   confess Him before men. Take courage, believer. The bolder and more
   decided you are, the more comfort you will have in Christ. You cannot
   have two heavens, one here, and the other hereafter. You are yet in the
   world, and you have a body, and there is always near you a busy devil.
   But great faith shall always have great peace. The happiest person in
   religion will always be that man or woman who can say, with a true
   heart, like St. Paul, "The life that I live in the flesh, I live by the
   faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me." In
   myself I see nothing, but I keep ever looking to Jesus, and by His
   grace I hold fast my profession (Gal. 2:20).

   And now I cannot leave this great and solemn subject without offering
   to all who read it a parting word of warning about the times in which
   we live. I will try to explain briefly what I mean.

   I believe, then, that for three centuries there has not been an age in
   which it has been so needful to urge professing Christians to "hold
   fast" as it is at this time. No doubt there is plenty of religion of a
   certain sort in these days. There are many more attendants on public
   worship all over the land than there were thirty years ago. But it may
   well be doubted whether there is any increase of vital Christianity. I
   am greatly mistaken if there is not a growing tendency to "hold fast"
   nothing in religion, and a disposition to hold everything as loosely as
   possible. ":Nothing fast! Everything loose!" seems the order of the
   day.

   How is it in matters of faith and doctrine? It used to be thought
   important to hold clear and distinct views about such points as the
   inspiration of the Scriptures, the atonement, the work of the Spirit,
   the personality of the devil, the reality of future punishment. It is
   not thought so now. The old order of things has passed away. You may
   believe anything or nothing on these subjects, so long as you are
   earnest and sincere. Holding .fast has given way to holding loose.

   How is it in matters of worship and ritual? It used to be thought
   important to be content with the plain teaching of the Prayer Book. It
   is not thought so now. You must have the Lord's Table called an altar,
   and the sacrament called a sacrifice, without the slightest warrant in
   the Prayer Book, and a ceremonial fitted to these novel views. And then
   if you complain, you are told that you are very narrow and illiberal,
   and that a clergyman ought to be allowed to do and say and teach
   anything, if he is only earnest and sincere. Holding fast has given way
   to holding loose.

   How is it in the matter of holy living? It used to be thought important
   to "renounce the pomps and vanity of this wicked world," and to keep
   clear of races, theatre-going, balls, card-playing, and the like. It is
   not thought so now. You may do anything and go anywhere you please, so
   long as you keep Lent, and occasionally attend early Communion? You
   must not be so very strict and particular! Once more I say, holding
   fast has given way to holding loose.

   This state of things, to say the least, is not satisfactory, It is full
   of peril. It shows a condition of Christianity which, I am certain,
   would not have satisfied St. Paul or St. John. The world was not turned
   upside down by such vague, loose doctrine and practice eighteen
   centuries ago. The souls of men in the present day will never receive
   much benefit from such loose Christianity either in England or anywhere
   else. Decision in teaching and living is the only Christianity which
   God has blessed in the ages that are past, or will continue to bless in
   our own time. Loose, vague, misty, broad Christianity may avoid offence
   and please people in health and prosperity, but it will not convert
   souls, or supply solid comfort in the hour of sorrow or sickness, or on
   the bed of death.

   The plain truth is, that "sincerity and earnestness" are becoming the
   idol of many English Christians in these latter days. People seem to
   think it matters little what opinions a man holds in religion, so long
   as he is "earnest and sincere;" and you are thought uncharitable if you
   doubt his soundness in the faith! Against this idolatry of mere
   "earnestness" I enter my solemn protest. I charge every reader of this
   paper to remember that God's written Word is the only rule of faith,
   and to believe nothing to be true and soul-saving in religion which
   cannot be proved by plain texts of Scripture. I entreat him to read the
   Bible, and make it his only test of truth and error, right and wrong.
   And for the last time I say, "Hold fast, and not loose,--hold fast your
   profession."
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XIII
  Matt. 8:11.
  MANY

   "Many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down with
   Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven."--Matt. 8:11.

   THE words of Scripture which head this page were spoken by our Lord
   Jesus Christ. You may take them either as a prophecy or as a promise.
   In either point of view they are deeply interesting, and contain much
   food for thought.

   Take the words as a prophecy, and remember that they are sure to be
   fulfilled The Bible contains many predictions of things most unlikely
   and improbable, which have yet proved true. Was it not said of Ishmael,
   the father of the Arabian race, that he was to be a "wild man, his hand
   against every man, and every man's hand against him"? (Gen. 16:12). We
   see the fulfilment of those words at this very day, when we look at the
   tribes in the Sudan, or observe the ways of the Bedouins.--Was it not
   said of Egypt that it was finally to become "the basest of kingdoms,"
   and its inhabitants a people who could neither govern themselves nor be
   governed? (Ezek. 29:15). We see the fulfilment of those words at this
   very day along the whole valley of the Nile, and every statesman in
   Europe knows it to his sorrow. It will be just the same with the
   prophecy before our eyes. "Many shall sit down in the kingdom of
   heaven."

   Take the words as a promise. It was spoken for the encouragement of the
   Apostles, and of all Christian ministers and teachers down to the
   present day. We are often tempted to think that preaching, and
   teaching, and visiting, and trying to bring souls to Christ does no
   good, and that our labour is all thrown away. But here is the promise
   of One who "cannot lie," and never failed to keep HIS word. He cheers
   us with a gracious sentence. He would have us not faint or give way to
   despair. Whatever we may think, and however little success we may see,
   there is a Scripture before us which cannot be broken, "Many shall sit
   down in the kingdom of heaven."

   I. We have first in these words the number of those who shall be saved.
   Our Lord Jesus Christ declares that they shall be "many."

   How strange that word "many" sounds! Will any be saved who are not born
   again, washed in Christ's blood, and sanctified by the Holy Ghost? Will
   any be saved (except infants) who have not repented of sin, believed on
   the Lord Jesus for forgiveness, and been made holy in heart? None,
   none, certainly none. If men and women can be saved without repentance,
   faith, and holiness, we may as well throw the Bible away, and give up
   Christianity altogether.

   But are there many people of this kind to be seen in the world? Alas!
   there are very few. The believers whom we see and know are "a little
   flock." "Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto
   life, and few there be that find it" (Matt. 7:14). Few are to be seen
   in towns, and few in country parishes l Few among the rich, and few
   among the poor! Few among the old, and few among the young! Few among
   the learned, and few among the unlearned! Few in palaces, and few in
   cottages! It is an abiding sorrow with all true Christians that they
   meet so few with whom they can pray, and praise, and read the Bible,
   and talk of spiritual things. They often feel to stand alone. Many are
   the people who never go to any place of worship from the first day of
   January to the last day of December, and seem to live without God in
   the world. Few are the communicants in any congregation--a mere handful
   compared to those who never go to the Lord's table at all. Few are the
   men and women who do anything for the cause of Christ upon earth, or
   appear to care whether those around them are lost or saved. Can any one
   deny these things? Impossible! Yet here is our Lord Jesus Christ
   saying, "Many shall sit down in the kingdom of heaven."

   Now, why did our Lord say so? He never made a mistake, and all that He
   says is true. Let me try to throw some light on this question.

   (a) There shall be "many" when all are gathered together who have died
   in the Lord, from Abel, the first saint, down to the last who is found
   alive when the trumpet sounds, and the resurrection takes place. They
   shall be a "multitude which no man can number" (Rev. 7:9).

   (b) There shall be "many" when all the infants who died before they
   knew good from evil, or their right hand from their left, are called
   from their little graves, and assembled. Few, probably, are aware what
   an enormous proportion of children never live for a year! They shall be
   "a multitude which no man can number."

   (c) There shall be "many" when all the believers of every name, and
   nation, and people, and tongue, the Old Testament saints, like Enoch,
   and Noah, and Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Moses, and David, and
   the prophets,--the saints of the New Testament, like the Apostles, the
   saints among the primitive Christians, and the Reformers,- when all
   these are brought together, they will be "a multitude which no man can
   number."

   (d) There will be "many" when the true Christians are gathered
   together, who are now scattered over the face of the globe, and not
   known either by the Church or the world. There are not a few who belong
   to no congregation, and are not numbered on any list of communicants,
   though their names are in the Lamb's book of life. Some of them live
   and die in great neglected parishes unknown and unvisited. Some of them
   get hold of the truth by hearing the gospel preached by missionaries at
   home or abroad; though the preacher has never known them, and they have
   never been formally enrolled in the list of converts. Some of them are
   soldiers and sailors, who stand alone in regiments and on board ship,
   and are not understood by their companions. There are myriads of such
   persons, I believe, who live the life of faith, and love Christ, and
   are known to the Lord, though not known by men. These also will make a
   large addition to the "multitude which no man can number."

   The plain truth is, that the family of God will be found at last much
   larger than most of us suppose it is. We look at the things, we see
   with our own eyes, and we forget how much there is going on in the
   world, in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, which our eyes never see
   at all. The inner life of the vast majority of all around us is a
   hidden thing, of which we know nothing. We do not think of the ages
   that are past, and the countless millions who are now "dust and ashes,"
   though each in his turn fell asleep in Christ, and was carried to
   Abraham's bosom. No doubt it is perfectly true, that " wide is the
   gate, and broad is the way, that leads to destruction, and many there
   be which go in thereat" (Matt. 7:13). It is fearful to think what an
   immense majority of all around us appear dead in sin, and utterly
   unprepared to meet God. But, for all that, we must not underrate the
   number of God's children. Even supposing they are in a minority, when
   judged by human estimate, they will still prove at last to be very many
   in the kingdom of glory, an enormous company, "a multitude which no man
   can number."

   Is any reader of this paper disposed to laugh at religion, because
   those who profess it decidedly are few in number? Are you secretly
   inclined to despise those who read their Bibles, and make a conscience
   of keeping their Sundays holy, and trying to walk closely with God? Are
   you afraid of making a profession yourself, because you think there
   will be so few with you and so many against you, and you do not like to
   be singular, and stand alone? Alas! there have always been many like
   you! When Noah built the Ark, there were few with him, and many mocked
   at him; but he was found to be in the right at last. When the Jews were
   rebuilding the wall of Jerusalem after the return from Babylon,
   Sanballat and Tobiah scoffed at them, and said, "What do these feeble
   Jews? "--When the Lord Jesus Christ left the world, only a hundred and
   twenty disciples met together in the upper chamber in Jerusalem, while
   the friends of the unbelieving Pharisees, and scribes, and priests were
   numbered by tens of thousands. But the disciples were right, and their
   enemies were wrong.- When bloody Mary sat on the throne, and Latimer
   and Ridley were burnt at the stake, the friends of the gospel seemed
   very few, and their enemies were a great majority. Yet the Reformers
   were right, and their enemies were wrong.--Take care what you are
   doing! Beware of judging vital Christianity by the small number of
   those who seem to profess it. You may have the crowd with you now, and
   the laugh may be on your side. But a day is coming when you will open
   your eyes with amazement, and find out, perhaps too late, that the very
   people whom you despised were not few, but "many," a vast company, "a
   multitude which no man can number."

   Is any reader of this paper disposed to be cast down and discouraged,
   because he loves Christ, and tries to serve Him, but finds himself
   almost entirely alone? Does your heart sometimes fail you, and your
   hands hang down, and your knees wax faint, because you so seldom meet
   any one whom you can pray with, and praise with, and read with, and
   talk with about Christ, and open your heart to without fear? Do you
   ever mourn in secret for want of company? Well, you are only drinking
   the cup which many have drunk before you. Abraham, and Isaac, and
   Jacob, and Joseph, and Moses, and Samuel, and David, and the prophets,
   and Paul, and John, and the Apostles were all people who stood very
   much alone. Do you expect to fare better than them? Take comfort, and
   have faith. There is more grace in the world than you can see, and more
   Christians travelling towards heaven than you are aware of. Elijah
   thought he stood alone, when there were "seven thousand in Israel who
   had not bowed the knee to Baal." Take comfort, and look forward. Your
   good time is coming. You will have plenty of company by and by. You
   will find many and not few in the kingdom of heaven, many to welcome
   you, many to rejoice and praise with many with whom you will spend a
   blessed eternity. How pleasant it is to meet a single saint now for a
   few short hours! How it cheers and refreshes us, like snow in summer or
   sunshine after clouds! What, then, will it be when we shall see an
   enormous company of saints, without a single unconverted sinner to
   spoil the harmony, all men and women of faith, and none unbelievers,
   all wheat and no chaff, "a multitude which no man can number"! Surely
   the "many" we shall see in heaven will make ample amends for the "few"
   that we now see upon earth.

   II. We have, secondly, in our Lord Jesus Christ's words, the dwellings
   and position of those who shall be finally saved. It is written "that
   they shall come from the east and the west."

   There can be little doubt that this expression is a proverbial one. It
   must not be taken literally, as if the saved were not to come from the
   north and south, but only from the rising and setting of the sun. We
   find the same expression in Psalm 103:12, where it is said, "As far as
   the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions
   from us." The meaning is simply this: The saved shall come from
   different places, from distant places, and from places where you would
   have thought it most unlikely they would be found.

   (a) They will not all have belonged to one Church. There will be
   Episcopalians, and Presbyterians, and Independents, and Baptists, and
   Methodists, and Plymouth Brethren, and many other kinds of Christians
   whom I have neither space nor time to name. However much they may
   disagree and dispute now, they will have to agree at last. They will
   find to their amazement that the points upon which they were of one
   mind were a vast quantity, and the points on which they differed were
   very few. They will all be able to say with one heart, "Hallelujah!
   praise to Him who loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own
   blood!" And they will all be able to reply with one voice, "Amen,
   amen!" The anthem in heaven, said good George Whitefield, will be to
   all eternity, " What hath God wrought!" The points of earthly
   disagreement will have dropped off, and melted like snow in spring. The
   common teaching of the Holy Ghost will stand out clear and plain before
   every eye in heaven. At length there will be one real "Holy Catholic
   Church," without spot or blemish or any such thing, without
   quarrelling, controversy, or dissension, all wheat and no tares, all
   sound members and none unsound.

   (b) They will come from various countries in every part of the globe,
   from Greenland's icy mountains, and the scorching regions of the
   tropics, from India and Australia, from America and from China, from
   New Zealand and the Islands of the Pacific Ocean, from Africa and from
   Mexico. Some will have laid their bones in solitary graves like Henry
   Martyn in Persia, with none to do them honour in their death. Some will
   have been buried at sea with a sailor's funeral. Some will have died
   the death of martyrs, and been burnt to ashes like our own Reformers.
   Some will have fallen victims to malignant climates, or heathen
   violence at missionary stations. And some will have died, like Moses,
   in places where no human eye saw them. But they shall all come
   together, and meet again in the kingdom of heaven. It matters little
   where we are buried, and how we are buried, and in what kind of a
   grave. China is just as near to heaven as England is, and the sea shall
   give up her dead at the same moment as the land. Our coffin, and our
   funeral, and the burial service, and the long procession of mourners,
   are all matters of very secondary importance. The one point we should
   aim to make sure, from whatever place we may come, is to be amongst
   those who "shall sit down in the kingdom of heaven."

   (c) They shall come from utterly different ranks, classes, and
   professions. Heaven will be a place for servants as well as masters,
   for maids as well as mistresses, for poor as well as rich, for the
   unlearned as well as the learned, for tenants as well as landlords, for
   subjects as well as rulers, for the pauper as well as the Queen. There
   is no royal road to heaven, and there will be no class distinctions
   when we get there. At length there will be perfect equality, perfect
   fraternity, and perfect freedom. It will matter nothing whether we had
   much money on earth, or none at all. The only question will be, whether
   we have really repented of our sins, really believed on the Lord Jesus,
   and were really converted and sanctified people. There will be no
   preference given to those who have come from monasteries, nunneries, or
   hermits' caves. It is very likely that those who have done their duty
   in that state of life to which God called them, and have carried
   Christ's cross in the army or the navy, in Parliament or at the bar, in
   the bank or the merchant's office, behind the counter or at the bottom
   of a coal-pit, will be found in the first rank in the kingdom of
   heaven. It is not necessary to wear a peculiar dress, or to put on an
   austere countenance, and to retire from the world, in order to sit down
   in the kingdom of heaven.

   (d) They shall come from most unlikely places, and from positions in
   which you would have thought the seed of eternal life could never have
   grown up in a soul. Saul, the young Pharisee, came from the feet of
   Gamaliel, and from persecuting Christians, and rose to be the great
   Apostle of the Gentiles, who turned the world upside down. Daniel lived
   in Babylon, and served God faithfully in the midst of idolatry and
   heathenism. Peter was once a fisherman on the sea of Galilee. Matthew
   was a public tax-gatherer, who spent his days in receiving custom.
   Luther and Latimer began life as devoted Papists, and ended life as
   devoted Protestants. John Bunyan, the author of the Pilgrim's Progress,
   was once a careless, thoughtless, swearing, bell-ringing young man, in
   a country village. George Whitefield served in a public-house at
   Gloucester, and spent his early days in cleaning pots and carrying out
   beer. John Newton, the author of well-known hymns and letters, was once
   the captain of a slave-ship on the coasts of Africa, and saw no harm in
   buying and selling human flesh and blood. All these truly "came from
   east and west," and seemed at one time in their lives the most unlikely
   people in the world to come to Christ, and "sit down in the kingdom of
   heaven." But they did come unmistakably, and they are an everlasting
   proof that our Lord Jesus Christ's words are strictly true. Men and
   women may "come from the east and west," and yet be found at last in
   the kingdom of eternal happiness and glory.

   Let us learn never to despair of the salvation of any one as long as he
   lives. Fathers ought never to despair of prodigal sons. Mothers ought
   never to despair of self-willed, headstrong daughters. Husbands should
   never despair of wives, nor wives of husbands. There is nothing
   impossible with God. The arm of grace is very long, and can reach those
   who seem very far off. The Holy Ghost can change any heart. The blood
   of Christ can cleanse away any sin. Let us pray on, and hope on for
   others, however unlikely their salvation may appear to be at present.
   We shall see many in heaven whom we never expected to see there. The
   last may yet prove first, and the first last. The famous Grimshaw, the
   Apostle of Yorkshire, when he died, left his only son unconverted,
   careless, thoughtless, and indifferent to religion. The day came when
   the young man's heart was changed, and he walked in the steps of his
   father. And when he lay upon his death-bed, one of his last words was,
   "What will my old father say when he sees me in heaven!"

   Let us learn not to sorrow "as those who have no hope," when we part
   from friends who are true Christians, and part, perhaps, for ever. The
   separations and goodbyes of this world are probably some of its most
   painful things. When the family circle is broken up, when the old nest
   begins to lose its inmates, when the young man sets sail for Australia,
   New Zealand, or the Fiji Islands, with no hope of returning for ten or
   twelve years,--when these things take place, it is a sore trial to
   flesh and blood. I have witnessed scenes on the landing-stage at
   Liverpool, when the great steamships are about to start for America,
   which might bring tears to the eyes of the most cold-hearted stranger.
   The partings of this world are terrible things; but true faith in
   Christ, and the resurrection to eternal life through Him, takes the
   sting out of the worst of partings. It enables a believer to look
   beyond the things seen to the things unseen, to the coming of the
   Saviour, and our gathering together unto Him. Yes, it is a pleasant
   thing to remember, as the great ship moves away, and we wave our last
   adieus, "it is but a little time, and we shall see them all again to
   part no more." God's people shall come together from east and west, and
   we shall all meet at last "in the kingdom of heaven," and go out no
   more.

   III. We have, thirdly, in our Lord Jesus Christ's words, the future
   portion and reward of those who shall be finally saved. It is written,
   "they shall sit down in the kingdom of heaven."

   That expression, "sit down," is a very pleasant and comfortable one to
   my mind. Let us sift it, and examine it, and see what it contains. In
   the judgment day, believers shall STAND with boldness at the right hand
   of Christ, and say, "Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's
   elect.? it is God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth? It is
   Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the
   right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us" (Rom. 8:33-34).
   But when the judgment is passed and over, and the eternal kingdom
   begins, they shall "SIT DOWN."

   (a) Sitting down implies a sense of confidence and being at home. If we
   were in the presence of a stern judge, or of a king clothed in awful
   majesty, we should not dare to sit down. But there will be nothing to
   make believers afraid in the kingdom of heaven. The sins of their past
   lives will not make them tremble and feel alarmed. However many,
   however great, and however black, they will all have been washed away
   in Christ's precious blood, and not one spot will remain. Completely
   justified, completely absolved, completely forgiven, completely
   "accepted in the Beloved," they will be counted righteous before God
   for the sake of Him who was "made sin for us, though He knew no sin "
   (2 Cor. 5:21). Though the sins of their lives "were as scarlet, they
   shall be made white as snow; and though red like crimson, they shall be
   as wool." Their sins will be "remembered no more," "sought for, and not
   found," "blotted out as a thick cloud," "cast behind God's back,"
   "plunged in the depths of the sea." Believers will need no purgatory
   after they die. It is ignorance and unbelief to think so. Once joined
   to Christ by faith, they are complete in the sight of God the Father,
   and even the perfect angels shall see no spot in them. Surely they may
   well sit down, and feel at home! They may remember all the sins of
   their past lives, and be humbled at the recollection of them. But those
   sins will not make them afraid.

   The sense of daily failure, weakness, imperfection, and inward
   conflict, will no longer mar their peace. At last their sanctification
   will be completed. The war within shall come to a perfect end. Their
   old besetting sins and infirmities will have dropped off, and melted
   away. At length they shall be able to serve God without weariness, and
   attend on Him without distraction, and not be obliged to cry
   continually, "Wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the
   body of this death?" (Rom. 7:24). Who can tell the blessedness of all
   this while we are yet in the body? Here in this world we do not realize
   the completeness of our justification, and "groan, being burdened," by
   reason of our imperfect sanctification. Our best endeavours after
   holiness are accompanied by a sorrowful consciousness of daily failure.
   But when "the old man" is at last entirely dead, and the flesh no
   longer lusts against the spirit,--when there is an end of indwelling
   sin, and the world and the devil can no longer tempt us,--then at last
   we shall understand what God has prepared for them that love Him. We
   shall "sit down in the kingdom of heaven."

   (b) But this is not all. Sitting down implies rest, and a complete
   cessation of work, and toil, and conflict. There is a rest that
   remaineth for the people of God. Here in this life we are never still.
   The Word of God tells us, that the Christian must "walk," and "run,"
   and "work," and "labour," and "fight," and "groan," and "carry the
   cross," and wear the." armour," and stand like a sentinel on guard in
   an enemy's land. It is not till we enter the kingdom of heaven that we
   must expect to "sit down." Work for Christ, no doubt, is pleasant, and
   even in this life brings a rich reward,-the reward of a happy
   conscience, a reward which the mere politician, or merchant, or man of
   pleasure can never reap, because they only seek a corruptible crown.
   "They that drink of these waters shall thirst again." But even the
   Christian's work is exhausting to flesh and blood; and so long as we
   dwell in a mortal body, work and weariness will go together. The very
   sight of sin in others, which we cannot check, is a daffy trial to our
   souls. No doubt the fight of faith is a "good fight," but there never
   can be fighting without wounds, and pain, and fatigue. The very armour
   the Christian is bid to put on is heavy. The helmet and the
   breastplate, the shield and the sword, without which we cannot overcome
   the devil, can never be worn without constant exertion.

   Surely it will be a blessed time when our enemies will all be slain,
   and we can lay aside our armour in safety, and "sit down in the kingdom
   of heaven."

   In the meantime let us never forget that the time is short. Even the
   devil knows that, and "has great wrath because he has but a short time"
   (Rev. 12:12). Let us work on, and fight on, in full assurance of hope,
   with the blessed recollection that it shall not be for ever. When the
   great battle of Waterloo was raging, and the event of the day seemed to
   tremble in the balance, it is said that the Duke of Wellington kept
   calmly turning his eyes to the left, in the confident expectation that
   in a little time his Prussian allies would appear, and his victory
   would be sure. Let this kind of hope animate our souls when we are
   bearing the labour and heat of the day. Our King is soon coming, and
   when He comes we shall "sit down," and toil and fight no more.

   IV. The fourth and last thing which the words of our Lord Jesus Christ
   contain is, the company which those who are finally saved shall enjoy
   for ever.

   Now, company is one great secret of happiness. Man is by nature a
   social being. It is a ram exception indeed to find any one who likes to
   be always alone. A palace filled with untold wealth and luxuries, would
   at last be little better than a prison if we lived in it entirely
   alone. A cottage with congenial companions is a happier dwelling-place
   than a royal castle with no one to speak to, no one to listen to, no
   one to exchange mind with, nothing to converse with, but ends own poor
   heart. We all want some one to live with and love, and the dweller in a
   solitary island, like Robinson Crusoe, is never satisfied, if he is a
   real man. Our blessed Lord, who formed man out of the dust of the
   earth, and made him what he is, knows that perfectly well When,
   therefore, He describes the future portion of His believing people, He
   takes care to tell us what kind of company they shall have in the
   kingdom of heaven. He says that the saved shall "sit down with Abraham,
   Isaac, and Jacob" in the world to come.

   Now what does that expression mean? Let us look at it, analyse it, and
   see what it contains.

   The companions of the saved in the eternal world shall be all the
   believers who have ever lived on earth, from the beginning to the end.
   The old soldiers, the old pilgrims, the old servants of Christ, the old
   members of Christ's family, all, in a word, who have lived by faith and
   served Christ, and walked with God, these shall form the company in
   which the saved shall spend an endless existence.

   They shall see all the old worthies of whom they read in the Old
   Testament,--the patriarchs, the prophets, and the holy kings, who
   looked forward to the coming of Christ, but died without seeing Him.
   They shall see the New Testament saints, the Apostles, and the holy men
   and women who saw Christ face to face. They shall see the early Fathers
   who died for the truth, and were thrown to the lions, or beheaded under
   the persecution of the Roman emperors. They shall see the gallant
   Reformers who revived the gospel out of the dust on the Continent, and
   unstopped the wells of living water which Rome had filled up with
   rubbish. They shall see the blessed martyrs of our own land who brought
   about the glorious Protestant Reformation, and gave the Bible to our
   countrymen in the English tongue, and cheerfully died at the stake for
   the cause of the gospel. They shall see the holy men of the last
   century, Whitefield, and Wesley, Romaine, and their companions, who, in
   the face of bitter opposition, revived religion in the Church of
   England. Above all, they shall see their own friends who fell asleep in
   Christ, and whom they once followed to their graves, with many tears,
   and see them with the comfortable thought that they shall part no more.
   Surely the thought of such companionship as this should cheer us as we
   travel on the narrow way! It is a good thing yet to come.

   There is little happiness in company unless there is entire sympathy
   and congeniality of taste. It is one of the heaviest trials of a true
   Christian upon earth, that he meets so few people who are entirely of
   one mind with him about religion. How often in society he finds himself
   obliged to hold his tongue and say nothing, and to hear and see many
   things which make his heart ache, and send him back to his own home
   heavy and depressed! It is a rare privilege to meet two or three
   occasionally to whom he can open his heart, and with whom he can speak
   freely, without fear of giving offence or being misunderstood. But
   there will be an end of this state of things in the kingdom of heaven.
   Those who are saved will find none there who have not been led by the
   same Spirit, and gone through the same experience as themselves. There
   will not be a man or woman there who has not felt deeply the burden of
   sin, mourned over it, confessed it, fought with it, and tried to
   crucify it. There will not be a man or woman there who has not fled to
   Christ by faith, cast the whole weight of his soul upon Him, and
   rejoiced in Him as his Redeemer. There will not be a man or woman there
   who has not delighted in the Word of God, poured out his soul in prayer
   at the throne of grace, and striven to live a holy life. In a word,
   there will be none there who have not known something of repentance
   toward God, faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ, and holiness of life
   and conversation. It is pleasant to meet a few people of this kind on
   earth as we travel along the narrow way that leads to heaven. It
   refreshes us like a brook by the way, and is like a little peep within
   the veil. But what will it be when we see "a multitude, which no man
   can number," of saints completely delivered from all sin, and not one
   single unconverted person among them to mar the harmony!

   What shall it be when we shall meet our own believing friends once
   more, at last made perfect, and find that their besetting sins, and our
   own besetting sins, have all passed away, and there is nothing left in
   us but grace without corruption! Yet all this is to come when we pass
   within the veil. The inhabitants are not to be a mixed multitude,
   unable to understand one another. They are all to be of one heart and
   of one mind. We are not to sit down amidst ignorant, godless, and
   unconverted people, but "with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom
   of heaven." Heaven itself would be no heaven if all sorts of characters
   got there, as some people falsely teach. There could be no order and no
   happiness in such a heaven. There must be "meetness for the inheritance
   of the saints in light" (Col. 1:12).

   (1) And now, reader, before you lay down this paper, ask yourself
   whether you shall be found among the many who shall "sit down in the
   kingdom of heaven." The question demands an answer. I charge you to
   give your soul no rest until you can answer it in a satisfactory way.
   Time is passing quickly away, and the world is growing old. The signs
   of the times ought to set us all thinking. "The distress of nations
   with perplexity" seems to increase every year. The wisdom of statesmen
   seems utterly unable to prevent wars and confusion in every direction.
   The progress of art, and science, and civilization appear entirely
   powerless to prevent the existence of enormous moral evils. Nothing
   will ever cure the diseases of human nature but the return of the Great
   Physician, the Prince of Peace, the second coming of Jesus Christ
   Himself. And when He comes, shall you be found among the "many" who
   shall "sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of
   heaven"?

   Why should you not be found among the many? I know no reason except
   your own want of will, or your own indolence and laziness, or your own
   determined love of sin and the world. An open door is before you: why
   not enter into it? The Lord Jesus Christ is able and ready to save you:
   why not commit your soul to Him, and lay hold on the hand which He
   holds out from heaven? I repeat that I know no reason why you should
   not be found amongst the "many" at the last day.

   You fancy there is time enough, and no need of hurry or immediate
   decision. You had better take care what you are saying. It is not given
   to all men and women to live to threescore years and ten, and then die
   quietly in their beds. The notice to quit this mortal body sometimes
   comes very suddenly, and men and women are summoned to go forth in a
   moment into the unseen world. You had better use time while you have
   it, and not make shipwreck on that miserable rock, "a convenient
   season."

   Are you afraid that people will laugh at you, and mock you, if you
   begin to care for your soul, and to seek a place in the kingdom of
   heaven? Cast the cowardly feeling behind your back, and resolve never
   to be ashamed of religion. Alas! there are too many who will find at
   last that they were laughed out of heaven, and laughed into hell. Fear
   not the reproach of man, who at most can only injure your body. Fear
   Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. Lay hold boldly
   on Christ, and He will give you the victory over all that you now fear.
   He that enabled the Apostle Peter, who once ran away and denied his
   Master, to stand firm as a rock before the Jewish Council, and at
   length to die for the gospel, is still living at the right hand of God,
   and is able to save to the uttermost all who come to God by Him, and to
   make you more than conqueror.

   Do you think that you will not be happy if you seek to have your soul
   saved, and to sit down in the kingdom of heaven? Cast aside the
   unworthy thought as a lying suggestion of the devil. There are no
   people so truly happy as true Christians. Whatever a sneering world may
   please to say, they have meat to eat which the world knows not, and
   inward comforts which the world cannot understand. There is no
   gloominess in true religion, and no religion in looking gloomy, sour,
   or austere. In spite of cross and conflict, the true Christian has an
   inward peace compared to which the world has nothing to give; for it is
   a peace which trouble, bereavement, sickness, and death itself cannot
   take away. The words of the Master are strictly true, "Peace I leave
   with you, My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I
   unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid"
   (John 14:27). If men and women want to be truly happy, they should
   strive to be amongst those who "shall sit down in the kingdom of
   heaven."

   (2) Last, but not least, let me wind up all by offering a word of
   exhortation and encouragement to those who have reason to hope that
   they are among the many who shall sit down in the kingdom of heaven.

   Would you have much joy and peace in believing? Try to do all the good
   you can in the world. There is always much to be done, and few to do
   it. There are always many living and dying in ignorance and sin, and no
   one goes near them, and tries to save their souls. We live in days when
   there is much talk about High Churchism, and Low Churchism, and Broad
   Churchism, and Ritualism, and Rationalism, and Scepticism, but little
   real Christian work done to mend the evils of the times! If all the
   Communicants in all our churches laid themselves out to go among those
   who are without God in the world, with the Bible in their hands, and
   Christlike loving sympathy in their hearts, they would soon be far
   happier than they are now, and the face of society would soon be
   changed. Idleness is one great cause of the low spirits of which so
   many complain. Too many, far too many Christians, seem quite content to
   go to heaven alone, and to care nothing about bringing others into the
   kingdom of God.

   If you try to do good in the right way, you never need doubt that good
   will be done. Many a Sunday-school teacher comes home on Sunday night
   with a heavy heart, and fancies that his or her labour is all in vain.
   Many a visitor returns from his rounds, and thinks he is producing no
   effect. Many a minister comes down from his pulpit desponding and cast
   down, imagining that his preaching is to no purpose. But all this is
   disgraceful unbelief. There is often far more going on in hearts and
   consciences than we see. "He that goeth forth weeping, but sowing
   precious seed, shall come again with joy at the last day, and bring his
   sheaves with him" (Ps. 126:6). There are more being converted and saved
   than we suppose. "Many shall sit down in the kingdom of heaven" whom we
   never expected to see there when we died. Let us read on, and pray on,
   and visit on, and speak on, and tell of Christ to every one whom we can
   get at. If we are only "stedfast, unmovable, always abounding in the
   work of the Lord," we shall find, to our amazement, that our labour was
   not in vain in the Lord (1 Cor. 15:58).

   But if we try to do good, we must always cultivate patience. We cannot
   have two heavens: a heaven here, and a heaven hereafter. The battle is
   not yet over. The harvest-time is not yet come. The devil is not yet
   bound. The time when our Lord's promise shall be fulfilled is not yet
   arrived. But it will arrive before long. When our gracious Queen at the
   end of the Crimean war came forward in front of the Horse Guards, and
   with her own royal hands gave the Victoria Cross to the gallant
   soldiers who had earned it, that public honour made rich amends for all
   that those soldiers had gone through. Balaklava, and Inkerman, and the
   hardships of the trenches were all forgotten for the time, and seemed
   comparatively small things. What, then, will be the joy when the
   Captain of our salvation shall gather His faithful soldiers round Him,
   and give to each one a crown of glory that fadeth not away! Surely we
   may well wait in patience for that day. It is coming, and will surely
   come at last. Remembering that day, let us cast behind us doubts and
   unbelief, and set our faces steadily towards Jerusalem. "The night is
   far spent, and the day is at hand" (Rom. 13:12). Not one word of the
   blessed promise before us shall fail: "Many shall come from the east
   and the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the
   kingdom of heaven."
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XIV
  2 Sam. 23:4-5.
  WITHOUT CLOUDS.

   [13]

   "He shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun rises, even a
   morning without clouds; as the tender grass springeth out of the earth
   by clear shining after rain. Although my house be not so with God; yet
   He hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things,
   and sure: for this is all my salvation, and all my desire, although He
   make it not to grow."--2 Sam. 23:4-5.

   THE text which heads this page is taken from a chapter which ought to
   be very interesting to every Christian. It begins with the touching
   expression, "These be the last words of David."

   Whether that means, "these are the last words which David ever spoke by
   inspiration as a Psalmist," or "these are among the last sayings of
   David before his death," signifies little. In either point of view, the
   phrase suggests many thoughts.

   It contains the experience of an old servant of God who had many ups
   and downs in his life. It is the old soldier remembering his campaigns.
   It is the old traveller looking back on his journeys.

   I. Let us first consider David's humbling cotillion.

   He looks forward with a prophetic eye to the future coming of the
   Messiah, the promised Saviour, the seed of Abraham, and the seed of
   David. He looks forward to the Advent of a glorious kingdom in which
   there shall be no wickedness, and righteousness shall be the universal
   character of all the subjects. He looks forward to the final gathering
   of a perfect family in which there shall be no unsound members, no
   defects, no sin, no sorrow, no deaths, no tears. And he says, the light
   of that kingdom shall be "as the light of the morning when the sun
   riseth, even a morning without clouds."

   But then he turns to his own family, and sorrowfully says, " My house
   is not so with God." It is not perfect, it is not free from sin, and it
   has blots and blemishes of many kinds. It has cost me many tears. It is
   not so as I could wish, and so as I have vainly tried to make it.

   Poor David might well say this! If ever there was a man whose house was
   full of trials, and whose life was full of sorrows, that man was David.
   Trials from the envy of his own brethren,--trials from the unjust
   persecution of Saul, retrials from his own servants, such as Joab and
   Ahithophel, -- trials from a wife, even that Michal who once loved him
   so much,--trials from his children, such as Absalom, Amnon, and
   Adonijah,--trials from his own subjects, who at one time forgot all he
   had done, and drove him out of Jerusalem by rebellion,--trials of all
   kinds, wave upon wave, were continually breaking on David to the very
   end of his days. Some of the worst of these trials, no doubt, were the
   just consequences of his own sins, and the wise chastisement of a
   loving Father. But we must have hard hearts if we do not feel that
   David was indeed "a man of sorrows."

   But is not this the experience of many of God's noblest saints and
   dearest children? What careful reader of the Bible can fail to see that
   Adam, and Noah, and Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Joseph, and
   Moses, and Samuel, were all men of many sorrows, and that those sorrows
   chiefly arose out of their own homes?

   The plain truth is, that home trials are one of the many means by which
   God sanctifies and purifies His believing people. By them He keeps us
   humble. By them He draws us to Himself. By them He sends us to our
   Bibles. By them He teaches us to pray. By them He shows us our need of
   Christ. By them He weans us from the world. By them He prepares us for
   "a city which hath foundations," in which there will be no
   disappointments, no tears, and no sin. It is no special mark of God's
   favour when Christians have no trials. They are spiritual medicines,
   which poor fallen human nature absolutely needs. King Solomon's course
   was one of unbroken peace and prosperity. But it may well be doubted
   whether this was good for his soul.

   Before we leave this part of our subject, let us learn some practical
   lessons.

   (a) Let us learn that parents cannot give grace to their children, or
   masters to their servants. We may use all means, but we cannot command
   success. We may teach, but we cannot convert. We may show those around
   us the bread and water of life, but we cannot make them eat and drink
   it. We may point out the way to eternal life, but we cannot make others
   walk in it. "It is the Spirit that quickeneth." Life is that one thing
   which the cleverest man of science cannot create or impart. It comes
   "not of blood, nor of the will of man" (John 1:13). To give life is the
   grand prerogative of God.

   (b) Let us learn not to expect too much from anybody or anything in
   this fallen world. One great secret of unhappiness is the habit of
   indulging in exaggerated expectations. From money, from marriage, from
   business, from houses, from children, from worldly honours, from
   political success, men are constantly expecting what they never find;
   and the great majority die disappointed. Happy is he who has learned to
   say at all times, " My soul, wait thou only upon God; my expectation is
   from Him" (Ps. 62:5).

   (c) Let us learn not to be surprised or fret when trials come. It is a
   wise saying of Job, "Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward"
   (Job 5:7). Some, no doubt, have a larger cup of sorrows to drink than
   others. But few live long without troubles or cares of some kind. The
   greater our affections the deeper are our afflictions, and the more we
   love the more we have to weep. The only certain thing to be predicted
   about the babe lying in his cradle is this,--if he grows up, he will
   have many troubles, and at last he will die.

   (d) Let us learn, lastly, that God knows far better than we do what is
   the best time for taking away from us those whom we love. The deaths of
   some of David's children were painfully remarkable, both as to age,
   manner, and circumstances. When David's little infant lay sick, David
   thought he would have liked the child to live, and he fasted and
   mourned till all was over. Yet, when the last breath was drawn, he
   said, with strong assurance of seeing the child again, "I shall go to
   him, but he shall not return to me" (2 Sam. 12:23). But when, on the
   contrary, Absalom died in battle---Absalom the beautiful Absalom the
   darling of his heart--but Absalom who died in open sin against God and
   his father, what did David say then? Hear his hopeless cry, " O
   Absalom, my son, my son, would God I had died for thee!" (2 Sam.
   18:33). Alas! we none of us know when it is best for ourselves, our
   children, and our friends to die. We should pray to be able to say, "My
   times are in Thy hands," let it be when Thou wilt, where Thou wilt, and
   how Thou wilt (Ps. 31:15).

   II. Let us consider, secondly, what was the source of David's present
   comfort in life. He says, "Though my house is not as I could wish, and
   is the cause of much sorrow, God has made with me an everlasting
   covenant, ordered in all things, and sure." And then he adds, " This is
   all my salvation, and all my desire."

   Now this word "covenant" is a deep and mysterious thing, when applied
   to anything that God does. We can understand what a covenant is between
   man and man. It is an agreement between two persons, by which they bind
   themselves to fulfil certain conditions and do certain things. But who
   can fully understand a covenant made by the Eternal God? It is
   something far above us and out of sight. It is a phrase by which He is
   graciously pleased to accommodate Himself to our poor weak faculties,
   but at best we can only grasp a little of it.

   The covenant of God to which David refers as his comfort must mean that
   everlasting agreement or counsel between the Three Persons of the
   Blessed Trinity which has existed from all eternity for the benefit of
   all the living members of Christ.

   It is a mysterious and ineffable arrangement whereby all things
   necessary for the salvation of our souls, our present peace, and our
   final glory, are fully and completely provided, and all this by the
   joint work of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. The
   redeeming work of God the Son by dying as our Substitute on the
   cross,--the drawing work of God the Father by choosing and drawing us
   to the Son,--and the sanctifying work of the Holy Ghost in awakening,
   quickening, and renewing our fallen nature,- are all contained in this
   covenant, besides everything that the soul of the believer needs
   between grace and glory.

   Of this covenant, the Second Person of the Trinity is the Mediator
   (Heb. 12:24). Through Him all the blessings and privileges of the
   covenant are conveyed to every one of His believing members. And when
   the Bible speaks of God making a covenant with man, as in the words of
   David, it means with man in Christ as a member and part of the Son.
   They are His mystical body, and He is their Head, and through the Head
   all the blessings of the eternal covenant are conveyed to the body.
   Christ, in one word, is "the Surety of the covenant," and through Him
   believers receive its benefits. This is the great covenant which David
   had in view.

   True Christians would do well to think about this covenant, remember
   it, and roll the burden of their souls upon it far more than they do.
   There is unspeakable consolation in the thought that the salvation of
   our souls has been provided for from all eternity, and is not a mere
   affair of yesterday. Our names have long been in the Lamb's book of
   life. Our pardon and peace of conscience through Christ's blood, our
   strength for duty, our comfort in trial, our power to fight Christ's
   battles, were all arranged for us from endless ages, and long before we
   were born. Here upon earth we pray, and read, and fight, and struggle,
   and groan, and weep, and are often sore let and hindered in our
   journey. But we ought to remember that an Almighty eye has long been
   upon us, and that we have been the subjects of divine provision though
   we knew it not.

   Above all, Christians should never forget that the everlasting covenant
   is "ordered in all things and sure." The least things in our daily life
   are working together for good, though we may not see it at the time.
   The very hairs of our head are all numbered, and not a sparrow falls to
   the ground without our Father. There is no luck or chance in anything
   that happens to us. The least events in our life are parts of an
   everlasting scheme or plan in which God has foreseen and arranged
   everything for the good of our souls.

   Let us all try to cultivate the habit of remembering the everlasting
   covenant. It is a doctrine full of strong consolation, if it is
   properly used. It was not meant to destroy our responsibility. It is
   widely different from Mohammedan fatalism. It is specially intended to
   be a refreshing cordial for practical use in a world full of sorrow and
   trial. We ought to remember, amid the many sorrows and disappointments
   of life, that "what we know not now, we shall know hereafter." There is
   a meaning and a "needs be" in every bitter cup that we have to drink,
   and a wise cause for every loss and bereavement under which we mourn.

   After all, how little we know! We are like children who look at a
   half-finished building, and have not the least idea what it will look
   like when it is completed. They see masses of stone, and brick, and
   rubbish, and timber, and mortar, and scaffolding, and dirt, and all in
   apparent confusion. But the architect who designed the building sees
   order in all, and quietly looks forward with joy to the day when the
   whole building will be finished, and the scaffolding removed and taken
   away. It is even so with us. We cannot grasp the meaning of many a
   providence in our lives, and are tempted to think that all around us is
   confusion. But we should try to remember that the great Architect in
   heaven is always doing wisely and well, and that we are always being
   "led by the right way to a city of habitation" (Ps. 107:7). The
   resurrection morning will explain all. It is a quaint but wise saying
   of an old divine, that "true faith has blight eyes, and can see even in
   the dark."

   It is recorded of Barnard Gilpin, a Reformer who lived in the days of
   the Marian martyrdoms, and was called the Apostle of the North, that he
   was famous for never murmuring or complaining, whatever happened to
   him. In the worst and blackest times he used to be always saying, "It
   is all in God's everlasting covenant, and must be for good." Towards
   the close of Queen Mary's reign, he was suddenly summoned to come up
   from Durham to London, to be tried for heresy, and in all probability,
   like Ridley and Latimer, to be burned. The good man quietly obeyed the
   summons, and said to his mourning friends, "It is in the covenant, and
   must be for good." On his journey from Durham to London, his horse
   fell, and his leg was broken, and he was laid up at a roadside inn.
   Once more he was asked, "What do you think of this?" Again he replied,
   "It is all in the covenant, and must be for good." And so it turned
   out. Weeks and weeks passed away before his leg was healed, and he was
   able to resume his journey. But during those weeks the unhappy Queen
   Mary died, the persecutions were stopped, and the worthy old Reformer
   returned to his northern home rejoicing. "Did I not tell you," he said
   to his friends, "that all was working together for good?"

   Well would it be for us if we had something of Barnard Gilpin's faith,
   and could make practical use of the everlasting covenant as he did.
   Happy is the Christian who can say from his heart these words,--


   "I know not the way I am going,

   But well do I know my Guide;

   With a childlike trust I give my hand

   To the mighty Friend by my side.

   The only thing that I say to Him,

   As He takes it, is-- 'Hold it fast;

   Suffer me not to lose my way,

   And bring me home at last.'"

   III. Let us consider, lastly, what was King David's hope for the
   future. That hope, beyond doubt, was the glorious advent of the Messiah
   at the end of the world, and the setting up of a kingdom of
   righteousness, at the final "restitution of all things" (Acts 3:21).

   Of course king David's views of this kingdom were dim and vague
   compared to those which are within reach of every intelligent reader of
   the New Testament. He was not ignorant of the coming of Messiah to
   suffer, for he speaks of it in the 22nd Psalm. But he saw far behind it
   the coming of Messiah to reign, and his eager faith overleaped the
   interval between the two Advents. That his mind was fixed upon the
   promise, that the "seed of the woman should" one day completely "bruise
   the serpent's head," and that the curse should be taken off the earth,
   and the effects of Adam's fall completely removed, I feel no doubt at
   all. The Church of Christ would have done well if she had walked in
   David's steps, and given as much attention to the Second Advent as
   David did.

   The figures and comparisons which David uses in speaking of the advent
   and future kingdom of the Messiah are singularly beautiful, and
   admirably fitted to exhibit the benefits which it will bring to the
   Church and the earth. The Second Advent of Christ shall be "as the
   light of the morning when the sun riseth, even a morning without
   clouds; as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear shining
   after rain." Those words deserve a thousand thoughts. Who can look
   around him, and consider the state of the world in which we live, and
   not be obliged to confess that clouds and darkness are now on every
   side? "The whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain" (Rom. 8:22).
   Look where we will, we see confusion, quarrels, wars between nations,
   helplessness of statesmen, discontent and grumbling of the lower
   classes, excessive luxury among the rich, extreme poverty among the
   poor, intemperance, impurity, dishonesty, swindling, lying, cheating,
   covetousness, heathenism, superstition, formality among Christians,
   decay of vital religion,--these are the things which we see continually
   over the whole globe, in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America. These are
   the things which defile the face of creation, and prove that the devil
   is "the prince of this world," and the kingdom of God is not yet come.
   These are clouds indeed, which often hide the sun from our eyes.

   But there is a good time coming, which David saw far distant, when this
   state of things shall be completely changed. There is a kingdom coming,
   in which holiness shall be the rule, and sin shall have no place at
   all.

   Who can look around him in his own neighbourhood, and fail to see
   within a mile of his own house that the consequences of sin lie heavily
   on earth, and that sorrow and trouble abound? Sickness, and pain, and
   death come to all classes, and spare none, whether rich or poor. The
   young often die before the old, and the children before the parents.
   Bodily suffering of the most fearful description, and incurable
   disease, make the existence of many miserable. Widowhood, and
   childlessness, and solitariness, tempt many to feel weary of life,
   though everything which money can obtain is within their reach. Family
   quarrels, and envies, and jealousies break up the peace of many a
   household, and are a worm at the root of many a rich man's happiness.
   Who can deny that all these things are to be seen on every side of us?
   There are many clouds now.

   Will nothing end this state of things? Is creation to go on groaning
   and travailing for ever after this fashion? Thanks be to God, the
   Second Advent of Christ supplies an answer to these questions. The Lord
   Jesus Christ has not yet finished His work on behalf of man. He will
   come again one day (and perhaps very soon) to set up a glorious
   kingdom, in which the consequences of sin shall have no place at all.
   It is a kingdom in which there shall be no pain and no disease, in
   which "the inhabitant shall no more say, I am sick" (Isa. 33:24). It is
   a kingdom in which there shall be no partings, no moves, no changes,
   and no good-byes. It is a kingdom in which there shall be no deaths, no
   funerals, no tears, and no mourning worn. It is a kingdom in which
   there shall be no quarrels, no losses, no crosses, no disappointments,
   no wicked children, no bad servants, no faithless friends. When the
   last trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible,
   there will be a grand gathering together of all God's people, and when
   we awake up after our Lord's likeness we shall be satisfied (Ps.
   17:15). Where is the Christian heart that does not long for this state
   of things to begin? Well may we take up the last prayer in the Book of
   Revelation, and often cry, "Come quickly, Lord Jesus" (Rev. 22:20).

   (a) And now, have we troubles? Where is the man or woman on earth who
   can say, "I have none"? Let us take them all to the Lord Jesus Christ.
   None can comfort like Him. He who died on the cross to purchase
   forgiveness for our sins, is sitting at the right hand of God with a
   heart full of love and sympathy. He knows what sorrow is, for He lived
   thirty-three years in this sinful world, and suffered Himself being
   tempted, and saw suffering every day. And He has not forgotten it. When
   He ascended into heaven, to sit at the right hand of the Father, He
   took a perfect human heart with Him. "He can be touched with the
   feeling of our infirmities" (Heb. 4:15). He can feel. Almost His last
   thought upon the cross was for His own mother, and He cares for weeping
   and bereaved mothers still.

   He would have us never forget that our departed friends in Christ are
   not lost, but only gone before. We shall see them again in the day of
   gathering together, for "them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with
   Him" (1 Thess. 4:14). We shall see them in renewed bodies, and know
   them again, but better, more beautiful, more happy than we ever saw
   them on earth. Best of all, we shall see them with the comfortable
   feeling that we meet to part no more.

   (b) Have we troubles? Let us never forget the everlasting covenant to
   which old David clung to the end of his days. It is still in full
   force. It is not cancelled. It is the property of every believer in
   Jesus, whether rich or poor, just as much as it was the property of the
   son of Jesse. Let us never give way to a fretting, murmuring,
   complaining spirit. Let us firmly believe at the worst of times, that
   every step in our lives is ordered by the Lord, with perfect wisdom and
   perfect love, and that we shall see it all at last. Let us not doubt
   that He is always doing all things well. He is good in giving, and
   equally good in taking away.

   (c) Finally, have we troubles? Let us never forget that one of the best
   of remedies and most soothing medicines is to try to do good to others,
   and to be useful. Let us lay ourselves out to make the sorrow less and
   the joy greater in this sin-burdened world. There is always some good
   to be done within a few yards of our own doors. Let every Christian
   strive to do it, and to relieve either bodies or minds.

   "To comfort and to bless,
   To find a balm for woe,
   To tend the lone and fatherless,
   Is angel's work below."

   Selfish feeding on our own troubles, and lazy poring over our sorrows,
   are one secret of the melancholy misery in which many spend their
   lives. If we trust in Jesus Christ's blood, let us remember His
   example. He ever "went about doing good" (Acts 10:38). He came not to
   be ministered unto, but to minister, as well as to give His life a
   ransom for many. Let us try to be like Him. Let us walk in the steps of
   the good Samaritan, and give help wherever help is really needed. Even
   a kind word spoken in season is often a mighty blessing. That Old
   Testament promise is not yet worn out: "Blessed is the man that
   provideth for the sick and needy; the Lord shall deliver him in the
   time of trouble" (Ps. 41:1, Prayer-book version).
     __________________________________________________________________

   [13] The substance of this paper was delivered as an address at the
   opening of the Chapel of the Turner Memorial Home of Rest, the Dingle,
   Liverpool, October 16th, 1885.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XV
  Canticles 4:12.
  THE LORD'S GARDEN.

   THE Lord Jesus Christ has a garden. It is the company of all who are
   true believers in Him. They are His garden.

   Viewed in one light, believers are Jesus Christ's spouse. They are all
   joined to Him by art everlasting covenant that cannot be broken; wedded
   to Him by the marriage of faith; taken by Him to be His for ever, with
   all their debts and liabilities, with all their faults and
   imperfections. Their old name is gone, they have no name but that of
   their Bridegroom. God the Father regards them as one with His dear Son.
   Satan can lay no charge against them. They are the Lamb's wife: "My
   Beloved is mine, and I am His" (Cant. 2:16).

   Viewed in another light, believers are Christ's sister. They are like
   to Him in many things. They have His Spirit; they love what He loves,
   and hate what He hates; they count all His members brethren; through
   Him they have the spirit of adoption, and can say of God, "He is my
   Father." Faint indeed is their resemblance to their elder Brother! And
   still they are like.

   Viewed in a third light, believers are Christ's garden. Let us see how
   and in what way.

   I. Jesus calls His people a garden, because they are altogether
   different firm the men of the world. The world is a wilderness: it
   brings forth little but thorns and thistles; it is fruitful in nought
   but sin. The children of this world are an untilled wilderness in God's
   sight. With all their arts and sciences, intellect and skill, eloquence
   and statesmanship, poetry and refinement,-with all this they are a
   wilderness, barren of repentance, faith, holiness, and obedience to
   God. The Lord looks down from heaven, and where He sees no grace, there
   the Lord can see nothing but a "wilderness" state of things. The Lord
   Jesus Christ's believing people are the green spot of the earth; the
   oasis amidst barren deserts; they are His garden.

   He calls His people a garden, because they are sweet and beautiful to
   His mind. He looks on the world, and it grieves Him to the heart: He
   looks on the little flock of His believing people, and is well pleased.
   He sees in them the fruit of His travail, and is satisfied. He rejoices
   in spirit when He sees the kingdom revealed to babes, though the wise
   and prudent receive it not. As in the day of Noah's sacrifice, He
   smells a sweet odour and is refreshed. It is very wonderful, very
   mysterious! Believers are vile in their own eyes, and feel themselves
   miserable sinners; yet Jesus says, "Thou art all fair,---sweet is thy
   voice,--thy countenance is comely,--beautiful as Tirzah, comely as
   Jerusalem, fair as the moon, and clear as the sun" (Cant. 1:15, 4:7,
   2:14, 6:10, etc.). Oh, the depths! It sounds incomprehensible and
   almost incredible; but it is true.

   He calls His people a garden, because He delights to walk among them.
   He sees the children of this world, but He mingles not with them. His
   eyes are on all their ways, but He does not come down to talk with
   them, as He did to Abraham, like a man with his friend.

   On the other hand, He loves to walk among His candle, sticks, and see
   whether the light burns brightly. He loves to be present in the
   assemblies of His saints, and to come in and sup with them, and they
   with Him. He loves to come with His Father, and make His abode with His
   disciples; and wheresoever two or three are gathered in His name, there
   is He. He loves to come into His garden and eat His pleasant fruits; to
   go down to the beds of spices, and gather lilies; to see whether the
   vine flourishes, and the tender grape appears, and the pomegranates bud
   forth (Cant. 7:12). In short, He holds peculiar communion with His
   people, and deals familiarly with them, as He does not with the world.

   He calls His people a garden, because they are useful, and bear fruit
   and flowers. Where is the real use of the children of this world? Of
   what value are they, while they continue unconverted? They are
   unprofitable tenants and worthless cumberers of the ground. They bring
   no glory to the Lord that bought them; they fulfil not their part in
   creation; they stand alone in the world of created beings, not doing
   the work for which their Maker meant them. The heavens declare the
   glory of God,--the trees, the corn, the grass, the flowers, the
   streams, the birds speak forth His praise,--but the man of the world
   does nothing to show that he cares for God, or serves God, or loves
   God, or feels grateful for Christ's redeeming death.

   The Lord's people are not so. They bring Him some revenue of glory.
   They bear some little fruit, and are not altogether barren and
   unprofitable servants. Compared to the world, they are a garden.

   II. The Lord's garden has a distinctive peculiarity about it. It is a
   garden inclosed.

   There is an inclosure round believers; or else they never would be
   saved. This is the secret of their safety. It is not their
   faithfulness, their strength, or their love, it is the wall around them
   which prevents their being lost. They are a "garden inclosed."

   They are inclosed by God the Father's everlasting election. Long before
   they were born,--long before .the foundations of the world, God knew
   them, chose them, and appointed them to obtain salvation by Jesus
   Christ. The children of this world do not like to hear this doctrine
   proclaimed. It humbles man, and leaves him no room to boast. But
   whether it is abused or not, the doctrine of election is true. It is
   the corner-stone of the believer's foundation, that he was chosen in
   Christ before the world began. Who can rightly estimate the strength of
   this inclosure?

   They are inclosed by the special love of God the Son. The Lord Jesus is
   the Saviour of all men, but He is specially the Saviour of them that
   believe. He has power over all flesh, but He gives eternal life to them
   that are specially given to Him, in a way that He does to none others.
   He shed HIS blood on the cross for all, but He only washes those who
   have part in Him. He invites all, but He quickens whom He will, and
   brings them to glory. He prays for them: He prays not for the world. He
   intercedes for them, that they may be kept from evil, that they may be
   sanctified by the truth, that their faith fail not. Who can fully
   describe the blessedness of this inclosure?

   They are inclosed by the effectual working of God the Holy Ghost. The
   Spirit of Christ calls them out from the world, and separates them as
   effectually as if a wall were built between them and it. He puts in
   them new hearts, new minds, new tastes, new desires, new sorrows, new
   joys, new wishes, new pleasures, new longings. He gives them new eyes,
   new ears, new affections, new opinions. He makes them new creatures;
   they are born again, and with a new birth they begin a new existence.
   Mighty indeed is the transforming power of the Holy Spirit! The
   believer and the world are completely put asunder, and everlastingly
   separated. You may place a believer and an unbeliever together, marry
   them, join them under one roof, but you cannot unite them any more into
   one piece. The one is part of the "garden inclosed," and the other is
   not. Effectual calling is a barrier that cannot be broken.

   Who can tell the comfort of this threefold wall of inclosure! Believers
   are inclosed by election, inclosed by washing and intercession,
   inclosed by calling and regeneration. Great is the consolation of these
   threefold bands of love around us, the love of God the Father, the love
   of God the Son, the love of God the Holy Ghost! A threefold cord is not
   easily broken.

   Does any reader suppose for a moment that all this was not needed? I
   believe that nothing short of this threefold inclosure could save the
   Lord's garden from utter ruin. Without election, intercession, and
   regeneration, there is not one soul who would get to heaven. The wild
   boar out of the wood would break in and devour; the roaring lion would
   come in and trample all under his feet. The devil would soon lay the
   Lord's garden level with the ground.

   Blessed be God for this, that we are "a garden inclosed!" Blessed be
   God, our final safety hangs not on anything of our own,--not on our
   graces and feelings, --not on our degree of sanctification,--not on our
   perseverance in well-doing,--not on our love,--not on our growth in
   grace,--not on our prayers and Bible-readings, --not even on our faith.
   It hangs on nothing else but the work of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
   If this three-fold work inclose us, who shall overthrow our hope? If
   God be for us, who can be against us?

   Adam had a heart free from sin. Adam was strong in innocency, and
   undefiled by contact with bad examples and corrupt neighbours. Adam was
   on vantage ground, a thousand times higher than we now occupy; and yet
   Adam fell before temptation. There was no inclosure round him, no wall
   to keep Satan out, no barrier round the first flower of the Lord's
   garden;--and see how Adam fell!

   Let believers open their sleepy eyes, and try to understand the value
   of their privileges! This is the most blessed part of the Lord's
   garden. It is a "garden inclosed." I believe if there was no election,
   there would be no salvation. I never saw a man who would be saved if it
   depended in any wise on himself. Let us all thank the Lord Jesus, every
   day, and thank Him from our hearts, that His people are a chosen and
   guarded people, and that His garden is nothing less than "a garden
   inclosed."

   III. The Lord's garden is not empty: it is always full of flowers. It
   has had many in time past, it has many at the time present. Believers
   are the flowers that fill the Lord's garden.

   I will mention two things about the flowers in the garden of the Lord
   Jesus. In some things they are all exactly like one another. In some
   things they are as various and diverse as the flowers in the gardens of
   this world.

   (a) In some things they are all alike.

   (1) They have all been transplanted. Not one of the Lord's flowers grew
   naturally in His garden. They were all born children of wrath, even as
   others. No man is born with grace in his heart. Every believer among
   the Lord's people was at one time at enmity with Him, and in a state of
   condemnation. It was the grace of God that first called him out of the
   world. It was the Spirit of Christ who made him what he is, and planted
   him in the garden of the Lord. In this the Lord's people are all alike:
   they are all transplanted flowers.

   (2) The Lord's flowers are all alike in their root. In outward things
   they may differ, but underneath they are all the same. They are all
   rooted and grounded on Jesus Christ. Believers may worship in different
   places, and belong to different churches, but their foundation is the
   same,--the cross and the blood.

   (3) The Lord's flowers are all at their beginning weak. They do not
   come to full maturity at once. They are at first like new-born babes,
   tender and delicate, and needing to be fed with milk, and not with
   strong meat. They are soon checked and thrown back. All begin in this
   way.

   (4) The Lord's flowers all need the light of the sun. Flowers cannot
   live without light. Believers cannot live comfortably unless they see
   much of the face of Jesus Christ. To be ever looking on Him, feeding on
   Him, communing with Him,--this is the hidden spring of the life of God
   in man's soul.

   (5) The Lord's flowers all need the dews of the Spirit. Flowers wither
   without moisture. Believers need daily, hourly, to be renewed by the
   Holy Ghost in the spirit of their minds. We cannot Live on old grace,
   if we would be fresh, living, real Christians. We must be daily more
   filled with the Spirit. Every chamber in the inward temple must be
   filled.

   (6) The Lord's flowers are all in danger of weeds. Flower-beds need
   constant weeding. Believers need daily to search and see that they do
   not let besetting sins grow on undisturbed. These are the things that
   choke the actings of grace, and chill the influences of the Spirit. All
   are in peril of this; all should beware.

   (7) The Lord's flowers all require pruning and digging. Flowers left
   alone soon dwindle and grow small. No careful gardener leaves his roses
   alone all the year round. Just so believers need stirring, shaking,
   mortifying, or else they become sleepy, and incline like Lot to settle
   down by Sodom. And if they are slow about the work of pruning, God will
   often take it in hand for them.

   (8) The Lord's flowers all grow. None but hypocrites and wolves in
   sheep's clothing, and painted Christians, stand still True believers
   are never long the same. It is their desire to go on from grace to
   grace, strength to strength, knowledge to knowledge, faith to faith,
   holiness to holiness. Visit a border of the Lord's garden after two or
   three years' absence, and you will see this. If you see it not, you may
   well suppose there is a worm at the root. Life grows; but death stands
   still and decays.

   (b) But while the Lord's flowers are all alike in some things, they are
   various and diverse in others, even as the flowers in our own gardens.
   Let us consider this point a little.

   Believers have many things in common, one Lord, one faith, one baptism
   of the Spirit, one hope, one foundation, one reverence for the Word,
   one delight in prayer, one newness of heart. And yet there are some
   things in which they are not one. Their general experience is the same,
   and their title to heaven the same: and yet there are varieties in
   their specific experience. There are shades of diversity in their views
   and feeling. They are not so altogether and completely one that they
   can quite understand each other in all things, at all times, and in all
   points. Very important is it to bear this in mind! Believers are one in
   genus, but not one in species, one in great principles, not one in all
   particulars, one in reception of the whole truth, not one in the
   proportion they give to the parts of truth, one in the root, but not
   one in the flower, one in the part that only the Lord Jesus sees, not
   one in the part that is seen of the world.

   You cannot understand your brother or sister in some things. You could
   not do as they do, speak as they speak, act as they act, laugh as they
   laugh, admire what they admire. Oh, be not hasty to condemn them! Make
   them not offenders for a word. Set them not down in a low place because
   they and you have little sympathy, few harmonizing and responding
   strings in your hearts,--because you soon come to a standstill in
   communing with them, and discover that they and you have only a limited
   extent of ground in common! Write it down on the tablets of your heart,
   that there are many schools, orders, classes, diversities of
   Christians. You may all be in the Lord's garden, and be united on grand
   doctrines; and yet for all that, the Lord's garden is made up of
   various sorts of flowers. All His flowers are useful: none must be
   despised. And yet His garden contains widely different sorts.

   (1) Some that grow in the Lord's garden are like the flowers which are
   brilliant and showy in colour, but not sweet. You see them afar off,
   and they attract the world's eye, and their tints are beautiful, but
   you can say no more.

   These are frequently the public Christians,- the popular
   preachers,--the speakers on platforms,---the lions of listening
   companies,--the people talked of, and pointed at, and run after. Such
   persons are the tulips, and sunflowers, and peonies, and dahlias of the
   Lord's garden, wonderful, gaudy, bright and glorious in their way, but
   not sweet.

   (2) Some are like those flowers which make no show at all, and yet are
   the sweetest.

   These are the Christians whom the world never hears of; they rather
   shrink from public observation. They hold on the even tenor of their
   way, and pass silently on towards home; but they sweeten all around
   them.

   These are they that are rare and hard to find: but the better they are
   known, the more they are loved. Ask their true character in their own
   homes, and in their families,--ask husbands, wives, children, servants,
   their character, and you will soon discover that not a tenth part of
   their beauty and excellence is known by the world. The nearer you go,
   the more perfume will these dwellers in the Lord's garden give out.
   These are the Lord's violets,--valued by only few, but to those who
   know them, oh, how sweet!

   (3) Some in the Lord's garden are like those flowers which cannot live
   in cold weather.

   These are the Christians who have but a little strength, who faint in
   the day of adversity, who only flourish when everything around them is
   smooth and warm. A cold wind of trial, and unexpected frost of
   affliction, nips them and cuts them down. But the Lord Jesus is very
   merciful; He will not suffer them to be tempted above what they can
   endure. He plants them in sheltered and sunny places of His garden. He
   protects them and hedges them round by strong plants, to break the
   cold. Let no man despise them. They are the Lord's flowers, beautiful
   in their place and in their way.

   (4) Some in the Lord's garden are like those hardy flowers which flower
   even in winter.

   These are those rough Christians who never seem to feel any trials;
   whom nothing, either of opposition or affliction, appears to move.
   Doubtless there is not that softness and sweetness about them that we
   admire in others. We miss that lovable delicacy which in some people is
   such an unexplainable charm. They chill us sometimes by their rudeness
   and want of sympathy when compared to many we know. And yet let no man
   despise them. They are the crocuses in the garden of the Lord,
   beautiful in their place and way, and valuable in their own season.

   (5) Some in the Lord's garden are never so sweet as after rain.

   These are the Christians who show most grace under trial and
   affliction. In the day of sunshine and prosperity they become careless:
   they need the shower "of some sorrow to come down on them to make their
   full excellency appear. There is more beauty of holiness about their
   tears than about their smiles: they are more like Jesus when they weep
   than when they laugh. These are the roses of the Lord's garden: lovely
   and sweet and beautiful at all times, but never so much so as after
   rain.

   (6) Some in the Lord's garden are never so sweet as at night.

   These are the believers who need constant trial to keep them close to
   the throne of grace. They cannot bear the sunshine of prosperity: they
   become careless in prayer, sleepy about the Word, listless about
   heaven, too fond of nestling with some Benjamin in the corner of this
   world. Such persons the Lord Jesus often keeps under a cloud, to
   preserve them in a right frame. He sends wave after wave, trouble after
   trouble, to make them sit like Mary at His feet, and be near the cross.
   It is the very darkness they are obliged to walk in which makes them so
   sweet.

   (7) Some in the Lord's garden are never so sweet as when crushed.

   These are the Christians whose reality comes out most under some
   tremendous and uncommon judgment. The winds and storms of heavy
   affliction roll over them, and then, to the astonishment of the world,
   the spices flow out. I once saw a young woman who had lain on a bed six
   years in a garret, with a spinal complaint, helpless, motionless, cut
   off from everything that could make this world enjoyable. But she
   belonged to the garden of Jesus: she was not alone, for He was with
   her. You would have thought she would have been gloomy; she was all
   brightness. You would have expected her to be sorrowful; she was ever
   rejoicing. You would suppose she was weak and needed comfort; she was
   strong and able to comfort others. You would fancy she must have felt
   dark; she seemed to me all light. You would imagine her countenance was
   grave; it was full of calm smiles, and the gushing forth of inward
   peace. You would have pardoned her almost if she had murmured; she
   breathed of nothing but perfect happiness and content. The crushed
   flowers in the Lord's garden are sometimes exceeding sweet!

   (8) Some of the flowers in the Lord's garden are never fully valued
   till they are dead.

   These are those humble believers who, like Dorcas, are full of good
   works and active love towards others. These are those unostentatious
   ones who dislike profession and publicity, and love to go about, like
   their Lord and Master, doing good to souls,-- visiting the fatherless
   and the widows, pouring in balm on wounds which this heartless world
   neither knows nor cares for, ministering to the friendless, helping the
   destitute, preaching the gospel not to silk and velvet, but to the
   poor.

   These are not noticed by this generation: but the Lord Jesus knows
   them, and His Father also. When they are dead and gone, their work and
   labour of love all comes out. It is written with a diamond on the
   hearts of those they have assisted: it cannot be hid. They speak being
   dead, though they were silent when living. We know their worth when
   gone, if we did not while we had them with us. The tears of those who
   have been fed in soul or body by their hand tell forth to the wondering
   world that some have gone home whose place cannot easily be supplied,
   and that a gap is made which it will be hard to fill up. These shall
   never have that wretched epitaph, "Departed without being desired."
   These are the lavender in the Lord's garden, never so much appreciated
   and admired as when cut off and dead.

   And now let me wind up with a few words of practical application.

   There is one thing about the Lord's garden, which I see nothing like in
   this world.

   The flowers of this world all die, and wither and lose their sweetness,
   and decay, and come to nothing at last. The fairest flowers are not
   really everlasting. The oldest and strongest of nature's children comes
   to an end.

   It is not so with the Lord's flowers. The children of grace can never
   die. They may sleep for a season; they may be taken away when they have
   served their generation, and done their work. The Lord is continually
   coming down to His garden and" gathering lilies," laying flowers in His
   bosom one after the other; but the Lord's flowers shall all rise again.

   When the Lord comes again the second time, He shall bring His people
   with Him. His flowers shall live once more, more bright, more sweet,
   more lovely, more beautiful, more glorious, more pure, more shining,
   more fair. They shall have a glorious body like their Lord's, and shall
   flourish for ever in the courts of our God.

   (1) Reader, are you in the Lord's garden, or are you in the wilderness
   of this world?

   You must be in one or the other. You must take your choice. Which have
   you chosen, and which do you choose now? The Lord Jesus would fain
   transplant you.

   He strives with you by His Spirit. He would fain add you to the number
   of His beloved ones. He knocks at the door of your heart by word and by
   providence. He whispers to your conscience, "Awake, arise, repent, be
   converted, and come away!"

   Oh, turn not away from Him that speaketh! Resist not the Holy Ghost.
   Choose not your place in the wilderness, but in the garden. Awake,
   arise, and turn away from the world.

   (2) Reader! the wilderness or the garden! Which will you have?

   If the wilderness, you will have your own way, run wild, grow to waste,
   bring forth fruit and flowers to yourself, become a barren,
   unprofitable, useless plant, live unloved and unlovable to yourself,
   and at last be gathered in the bundle with the tares, and burned!

   If the garden,--you will not have your own way. But you will have what
   is far better, you will have God and Christ for your own. You will be
   cultivated, watered, tended, moved, pruned, trained by the Lord Jesus
   Himself; and at last your name shall be found in the bundle of life.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XVI
  Prov. 22:6.
  THE DUTIES OF PARENTS

   "Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will
   not depart from it."--Prov. 22:6.

   I SUPPOSE that most professing Christians are acquainted with the text
   at the head of this page. The sound of it is probably familiar to your
   ears, like an old tune. It is likely you have heard it, or read it,
   talked of it, or quoted it, many a time. Is it not so?

   But, after all, how little is the substance of this text regarded! The
   doctrine it contains appears scarcely known, the duty it puts before us
   seems fearfully seldom practised. Reader, do I not speak the truth?

   It cannot be said that the subject is a new one. The world is old, and
   we have the experience of nearly six thousand years to help us. We live
   in days when there is a mighty zeal for education in every quarter. We
   hear of new schools rising on all sides. We are told of new systems,
   and "new books for the young, of every sort and description. And still
   for all this, the vast majority of children are manifestly not trained
   in the way they should go, for when they grow up to man's estate, they
   do not walk with God.

   Now how shall we account for this state of things? The plain truth is,
   the Lord's commandment in our text is not regarded; and therefore the
   Lord's promise in our text is not fulfilled.

   Reader, these things may well give rise to great searchings of heart.
   Suffer then a word of exhortation from a minister, about the right
   training of children. Believe me, the subject is one that should come
   home to every conscience, and make every one ask himself the question,
   " Am I in this matter doing what I can?"

   It is a subject that concerns almost all. There is hardly a household
   that it does not touch. Parents, nurses, teachers, godfathers,
   godmothers, uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters,--all have an interest in
   it. Few can be found, I think, who might not influence some parent in
   the management of his family, or affect the training of some child by
   suggestion or advice. All of us, I suspect, can do something here,
   either directly or indirectly, and I wish to stir up all to bear this
   in remembrance.

   It is a subject, too, on which all concerned are in great danger of
   coming short of their duty. This is pre-eminently a point in which men
   can see the faults of their neighbours more clearly than their own.
   They will often bring up their children in the very path which they
   have denounced to their friends as unsafe. They will see motes in other
   men's families, and overlook beams in their own. They will be quick
   sighted as eagles in detecting mistakes abroad, and yet blind as bats
   to fatal errors which are daily going on at home. They will be wise
   about their brother's house, but foolish about their own flesh and
   blood. Here, if anywhere, we have need to suspect our own judgment.
   This, too, you will do well to bear in mind.
   [14]

   Come now, and let me place before you a few hints about right training.
   God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost bless them, and make
   them words in season to you all Reject them not because they are blunt
   and simple; despise them not because they contain nothing new. Be very
   sure, if you would train children for heaven, they are hints that ought
   not to be lightly set aside.

   I. First, then, if you would train your children rightly, train them in
   the way they should go, and not in the way that they would.

   Remember children are born with a decided bias towards evil, and
   therefore if you let them choose for themselves, they are certain to
   choose wrong.

   The mother cannot tell what her tender infant may grow up to be,--tall
   or short, weak or strong, wise or foolish: he may be any of these
   things or not,--it is all uncertain. But one thing the mother can say
   with certainty: he will have a corrupt and sinful heart. It is natural
   to us to do wrong. "Foolishness," says Solomon, "is bound in the heart
   of a child" (Prov. 22:15). "A child left to himself bringeth his mother
   to shame" (Prov. 29:15). Our hearts are like the earth on which we
   tread; let it alone, and it is sure to bear weeds.

   If, then, you would deal wisely with your child, you must not leave him
   to the guidance of his own will. Think for him, judge for him, act for
   him, just as you would for one weak and blind; but for pity's sake,
   give him not up to his own wayward tastes and inclinations. It must not
   be his likings and wishes that are consulted. He knows not yet what is
   good for his mind and soul, any more than what is good for his body.
   You do not let him decide what he shall eat, and what he shall drink,
   and how he shall be clothed. Be consistent, and deal with his mind in
   like manner. Train him in the way that is scriptural and right, and not
   in the way that he fancies.

   If you cannot make up your mind to this first principle of Christian
   training, it is useless for you to read any further. Self-will is
   almost the first thing that appears in a child's mind; and it must be
   your first step to resist it.

   II. Train up your child with all tenderness, affection, and patience..

   I do not mean that you are to spoil him, but I do mean that you should
   let him see that you love him.

   Love should be the silver thread that runs through all your conduct.
   Kindness, gentleness, long-suffering, forbearance, patience, sympathy,
   a willingness to enter into childish troubles, a readiness to take part
   in childish joys,---these are the cords by which a child may be led
   most easily,--these are the clues you must follow if you would find the
   way to his heart.

   Few are to be found, even among grown-up people, who are not more easy
   to draw than to drive. There is that in all our minds which rises in
   arms against compulsion; we set up our backs and stiffen our necks at
   the very idea of a forced obedience. We are like young horses in the
   hand of a breaker: handle them kindly, and make much of them, and by
   and by you may guide them with thread; use them roughly and violently,
   and it will be many a month before you get the mastery of them at all.

   Now children's minds are cast in much the same mould as our own.
   Sternness and severity of manner chill them and throw them back. It
   shuts up their hearts, and you will weary yourself to find the door.

   But let them only see that you have an affectionate feeling towards
   them,--that you are really desirous to make them happy, and do them
   good,--that if you punish them, it is intended for their profit, and
   that, like the pelican, you would give your heart's blood to nourish
   their souls; let them see this, I say, and they will soon be all your
   own. But they must be wooed with kindness, if their attention is ever
   to be won.

   And surely reason itself might teach us this lesson. Children are weak
   and tender creatures, and, as such, they need patient and considerate
   treatment. We must handle them delicately, like frail machines, lest by
   rough fingering we do more harm than good. They are like young plants,
   and need gentle watering,--often, but little at a time.

   We must not expect all things at once. We must remember what children
   are, and teach them as they are able to bear. Their minds are like a
   lump of metal--not to be forged and made useful at once, but only by a
   succession of little blows. Their understandings are like narrow-necked
   vessels we must pour in the wine of knowledge gradually, or much of it
   will be spilled and lost. "Line upon line, and precept upon precept,
   here a little and there a little," must be our rule. The whetstone does
   its work slowly, but frequent rubbing will bring the scythe to a fine
   edge. Truly there is need of patience in training a child, but without
   it nothing can be done.

   Nothing will compensate for the absence of this tenderness and love. A
   minister may speak the truth as it is in Jesus, clearly, forcibly,
   unanswerably; but if he does not speak it in love, few souls will be
   won. Just so you must set before your children their duty,--command,
   threaten, punish, reason,-- but if affection be wanting in your
   treatment, your labour will be all in vain.

   Love is one grand secret of successful training. Anger and harshness
   may frighten, but they will not persuade the child that you are right;
   and if he sees you often out of temper, you will soon cease to have his
   respect. A father who speaks to his son as Saul did to Jonathan (1 Sam.
   20:30), need not expect to retain his influence over that son's mind.

   Try hard to keep up a hold on your child's affections. It is a
   dangerous thing to make your children afraid of you. Anything is almost
   better than reserve and constraint between your child and yourself; and
   this will come in with fear. Fear puts an end to openness of
   manner;-fear leads to concealment;--fear sows the seed of much
   hypocrisy, and leads to many a lie. There is a mine of truth in the
   Apostle's words to the Colossians: "Fathers, provoke not your children
   to anger, lest they be discouraged" (Col. 3:21). Let not the advice it
   contains be overlooked.

   III. Train your children with an abiding persuasion ca your mind that
   much depends upon you.

   Grace is the strongest of all principles. See what a revolution grace
   effects when it comes into the heart of an old sinner,--how it
   overturns the strongholds of Satan,--how it casts down mountains, fills
   up valleys,-makes crooked things straight,--and new creates the whole
   man. Truly nothing is impossible to grace.

   Nature, too, is very strong. See how it struggles against the things of
   the kingdom of God,--how it fights against every attempt to be more
   holy,--how it keeps up an unceasing warfare within us to the last hour
   of life. Nature indeed is strong.

   But after nature and grace, undoubtedly, there is nothing more powerful
   than education. Early habits (if I may so speak) are everything with
   us, under God. We are made what we are by training. Our character takes
   the form of that mould into which our first years are cast. [15]

   We depend, in a vast measure, on those who bring us up. We get from
   them a colour, a taste, a bias which cling to us more or less all our
   lives. We catch the language of our nurses and mothers, and learn to
   speak it almost insensibly, and unquestionably we catch something of
   their manners, ways, and mind at the same time. Time only will show, I
   suspect, how much we all owe to early impressions, and how many things
   in us may be traced up to seeds sown in the days of our very infancy,
   by those who were about us. A very learned Englishman, Mr. Locke, has
   gone so far as to say: "That of all the men we meet with, nine parts
   out of ten are what they are, good or bad, useful or not, according to
   their education."

   And all this is one of God's merciful arrangements. He gives your
   children a mind that will receive impressions like moist clay. He gives
   them a disposition at the starting-point of life to believe what you
   tell them, and to take for granted what you advise them, and to trust
   your word rather than a stranger's. He gives you, in short, a golden
   opportunity of doing them good. See that the opportunity be not
   neglected, and thrown away. Once let slip, it is gone for ever.

   Beware of that miserable delusion into which some have fallen, that
   parents can do nothing for their children, that you must leave them
   alone, wait for grace, and sit still. These persons have wishes for
   their children in Balaam's fashion,--they would like them to die the
   death of the righteous man, but they do nothing to make them live his
   life. They desire much, and have nothing. And the devil rejoices to see
   such reasoning, just as he always does over anything which seems to
   excuse indolence, or to encourage neglect of means.

   I know that you cannot convert your child. I know well that they who
   are born again are born, not of the will of man, but of God. But I know
   also that God says expressly, "Train up a child in the way he should
   go," and that He never laid a command on man which He would not give
   man grace to perform. And I know, too, that our duty is not to stand
   still and dispute, but to go forward and obey. It is just in the going
   forward that God will meet us. The path of obedience is the way in
   which He gives the blessing. We have only to do as the servants were
   commanded at the marriage feast in Cana, to fill the water-pots with
   water, and we may safely leave it to the Lord to turn that water into
   wine.

   IV. Train with this thought continually before your eyes --that the
   soul of your child is the first thing to be considered.

   Precious, no doubt, are these little ones in your eyes; but if you love
   them, think often of their souls. No interest should weigh with you so
   much as their eternal interests. No part of them should be so dear to
   you as that part which will never die. The world, with all its glory,
   shall pass away; the hills shall melt; the heavens shall be wrapped
   together as a scroll; the sun shall cease to shine. But the spirit
   which dwells in those little creatures, whom you love so well, shall
   outlive them all, and whether in happiness or misery (to speak as a
   man) will depend on you.

   This is the thought that should be uppermost on your mind in all you do
   for your children. In every step you take about them, in every plan,
   and scheme, and arrangement that concerns them, do not leave out that
   mighty question, "How will this affect their souls?. "

   Soul love is the soul of all love. To pet and pamper and indulge your
   child, as if this world was all he had to look to, and this life the
   only season for happiness--to do this is not true love, but cruelty. It
   is treating him like some beast of the earth, which has but one world
   to look to, and nothing after death. It is hiding from him that grand
   truth, which he ought to be made to learn from his very infancy, that
   the chief end of his life is the salvation of his soul.

   A true Christian must be no slave to fashion, if he would train his
   child for heaven. He must not be content to do things merely because
   they are the custom of the world; to teach them and instruct them in
   certain ways, merely because it is usual; to allow them to read books
   of a questionable sort, merely because everybody else reads them; to
   let them form habits of a doubtful tendency, merely because they are
   the habits of the day. He must train With an eye to his children's
   souls. He must not be ashamed to hear his training called singular and
   strange. What if it is? The time is short,--the fashion of this world
   passeth away. He that has trained his children for heaven, rather than
   for earth, for God, rather than for man, m he is the parent that will
   be called wise at last.

   V. Train your child to a knowledge of the Bible.

   You cannot make your children love the Bible, I allow. None but the
   Holy Ghost can give us a heart to delight in the Word. But you can make
   your children acquainted with the Bible; and be sure they cannot be
   acquainted with that blessed book too soon, or too well.

   A thorough knowledge of the Bible is the foundation of all clear views
   of religion. He that is well-grounded in it will not generally be found
   a wavier, and carried about by every wind of new doctrine. Any system
   of training which does not make a knowledge of Scripture the first
   thing is unsafe and unsound.

   You have need to be careful on this point just now, for the devil is
   abroad, and error abounds. Some are to be found amongst us who give the
   Church the honour due to Jesus Christ. Some are to be found who make
   the sacraments saviours and passports to eternal life. And some are to
   be found in like manner who honour a catechism more than the Bible, or
   fill the minds of their children with miserable little story-books,
   instead of the Scripture of truth. But if you love your children, let
   the simple Bible be everything in the training of their souls; and let
   all other books go down and take the second place.

   Care not so much for their being mighty in the catechism, as for their
   being mighty in the Scriptures. This is the training, believe me, that
   God will honour. The Psalmist says of Him, " Thou hast magnified Thy
   Word above all Thy name" (Ps. 138:2); and I think that He gives an
   especial blessing to all who try to magnify it among men.

   See that your children read the Bible reverently. Train them to look on
   it, not as the word of men, but as it is in truth, the Word of God,
   written by the Holy Ghost Himself, all true, all profitable, and able
   to make us wise unto salvation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus.

   See that they read it regularly. Train them to regard it as their
   soul's daily food, as a thing essential to their soul's daily health. I
   know well you cannot make this anything more than a form; but there is
   no telling the amount of sin which a mere form may indirectly restrain.

   See that they read it all. You need not shrink from bringing any
   doctrine before them. You need not fancy that the leading doctrines of
   Christianity are things which children cannot understand. Children
   understand far more of the Bible than we are apt to suppose.

   Tell them of sin, its guilt, its consequences, its power, its vileness:
   you will find they can comprehend something of this.

   Tell them of the Lord Jesus Christ, and His work for our
   salvation,--the atonement, the cross, the blood, the sacrifice, the
   intercession: you will discover there is something not beyond them in
   all this.

   Tell them of the work of the Holy Spirit in man's heart, how He
   changes, and renews, and sanctifies, and purifies: you will soon see
   they can go along with you in some measure in this. In short, I suspect
   we have no idea how much a little child can take in of the length and
   breadth of the glorious gospel They see far more of these things than
   we suppose. [16]

   Fill their minds with Scripture. Let the Word dwell in them richly.
   Give them the Bible, the whole Bible, even while they are young.

   VI. Train them to a habit of prayer.

   Prayer is the very life-breath of true religion. It is one of the first
   evidences that a man is born again. "Behold," said the Lord of Saul, in
   the day he sent Ananias to him, "Behold, he prayeth" (Acts 9:11). He
   had begun to pray, and that was proof enough.

   Prayer was the distinguishing mark of the Lord's people in the day that
   there began to be a separation between them and the world. "Then began
   men to call upon the name of the Lord" (Gen. 4:26).

   Prayer is the peculiarity of all real Christians now. They pray,--for
   they tell God their wants, their feelings, their desires, their fears;
   and mean what they say. The nominal Christian may repeat prayers, and
   good prayers too, but he goes no further.

   Prayer is the turning-point in a man's soul. Our ministry is
   unprofitable, and our labour is vain, till you are brought to your
   knees. Till then, we have no hope about you.

   Prayer is one great secret of spiritual prosperity. When there is much
   private communion with God, your soul will grow like the grass after
   rain; when there is little, all will be at a standstill, you will
   barely keep your soul alive. Show me a growing Christian, a going
   forward Christian, a strong Christian, a flourishing Christian, and
   sure am I, he is one that speaks often with his Lord. He asks much, and
   he has much. He tells Jesus everything, and so he always knows how to
   act.

   Prayer is the mightiest engine God has placed in our hands. It is the
   best weapon to use in every difficulty, and the surest remedy in every
   trouble. It is the key that unlocks the treasury of promises, and the
   hand that draws forth grace and h