Short Papers

"He hath made us accepted in the beloved" (Eph. 1:6). "Wherefore we labor, that, whether present or absent, we may be accepted of [acceptable to] Him." 2 Cor. 5:9.

The two words which form the heading of this paper, though rendered by the same word in our Authorized Version, are not at all the same. The former has respect to the person of the believer, the latter to his practical ways. It is one thing to be accepted; it is quite another to be acceptable. The former is the fruit of God's free grace to us as sinners; the latter is the fruit of our earnest labor as saints, though, most surely, it is only by grace we can do anything.

It is well that the Christian reader should thoroughly understand the distinction between these two things. It will preserve him effectually from legality on the one hand, and laxity on the other. It remains unalterably true of all believers, that God hath made them accepted in the Beloved. Nothing can ever touch this. The very feeblest lamb in all the flock stands accepted in a risen Christ. There is no difference. The grace of God has placed them all on this high and blessed ground. We do not labor to be accepted. It is all the fruit of God's free grace. He found us all alike dead in trespasses and sins. We were morally dead—far off from God, hopeless, Godless, Christless, children of wrath, whether Jews or Gentiles. But Christ died for us, and God has co-quickened, coraised, and co-seated us in Christ, and made us accepted in Him.

This is the inalienable, eternal standing of all, without exception, who believe in the name of the Son of God. Christ in His infinite grace placed Himself judicially where we were morally, and having put away our sins and perfectly satisfied, on our behalf, the claims of divine righteousness, God entered the scene and raised Him from the dead, and with Him all His members, as seen in His own eternal purpose, and to be called in due time, and brought into the actual possession and enjoyment of the marvelous place of blessing and privilege, by the effectual operation of the Holy Ghost.

Well, therefore, may we take up the opening words of the epistle to the Ephesians, and say, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who bath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ: according as He hath chosen us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love: having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the good pleasure of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, wherein He hath made us accepted in the beloved." All praise to His name throughout t h e everlasting ages!

All believers then are accepted-perfectly and forever accepted—in the Beloved. God sees them in Christ, and as Christ. He thinks of them as He thinks of Him—loves them as He loves Him. They are ever before Him in perfect acceptance in the blessed Son of His love; nor can anything or any one ever interfere with this their high and glorious position, which rests on the eternal stability of the grace of God, the accomplished work of His Son, and attested by the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven.

But are all believers acceptable in their practical ways? Are all so carrying themselves as that their dealings and doings will bear the light of the judgment seat of Christ? Are all laboring to be agreeable to Him?

Christian reader, these are serious questions. Let us solemnly weigh them. Let us not turn away from the sharp edge of plain, practical truth. The blessed Apostle knew he was accepted. Did that make him lax, careless, or indolent? Far from it. "We labor," he says, to be acceptable to Him. The sweet assurance that we are accepted in Him is the ground of our labor to be acceptable to Him. "The love of Christ constraineth us; because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead: and that He died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which died for them, and rose again." 2 Cor. 5:14, 15.

All this is pre-eminently practical. We are called upon, by every argument which can bear sway over the heart and conscience, to labor diligently to be acceptable to our blessed and adorable Lord. Is there anything of legality in this? Not the slightest tinge. The very reverse. It is the holy superstructure of a devoted life, erected on the solid foundation of our eternal election and perfect acceptance in a risen and glorified Christ at God's right hand. How could there be the very smallest atom of legality here? Utterly impossible. It is all the pure fruit of God's free and sovereign grace from first to last.

But ought we not, beloved Christian reader, to rouse ourselves to attend to the claims of Christ as to practical righteousness? Should we not zealously and lovingly aim at giving Him pleasure? Are we to content ourselves with vapidly talking about our acceptance in Christ, while at the same time there is no real earnest care as to the acceptability of our ways? God forbid! Yea, let us so dwell upon the rich grace that shines in the acceptance of our persons, that we may be led out in diligent and fervent effort to be found acceptable in our ways.

It is greatly to be feared that there is an appalling amount of antinomianism among us—an unhallowed traffic in the doctrines of grace, without any godly care as to the application of those doctrines to our practical conduct. How all this is to end, it would be hard to say; but, most assuredly, there is an urgent call upon all who profess to be accepted in Christ to labor fervently to be acceptable to Him.

The Alabaster Box: Part 1

It is very needful to bear in mind, in this day of busy doing and restless activity, that God looks at everything from one standpoint, measures everything by one rule, tries everything by one touchstone, and that touchstone, that rule, that standpoint is Christ. He values things just so far as they stand connected with the Son of His love, and no farther. Whatever is done to Christ, whatever is done for Him, is precious to God. All beside is valueless. A large amount of work may be done, and a great deal of praise drawn forth thereby, from human lips; but when God comes to examine it, He will simply look for one thing, and that is, the measure in which it stands connected with Christ. His great question will be, Has it been done in, and to, the Name of Jesus? If it has, it will stand approved, and be rewarded; if not, it will be rejected and burnt up.

It does not matter in the least what men's thoughts may be about any particular piece of work. They may laud a person to the skies, for something he is doing; they may parade his name in the public journals of the day; they may make him the subject of discourse in their drawing room circle; he may have a great name as a preacher, a teacher, a writer, a philanthropist, a moral reformer; but, if he cannot connect his work with the name of Jesus—if it is not done to Him and to His glory—if it is not the fruit of the constraining love of Christ, it will all be blown away like the chaff of the summer threshing floor, and sunk into eternal oblivion.

On the contrary, a man may pursue a quiet, humble, lowly path of service, unknown and unnoticed. His name may never be heard, his work may never be thought of; but what has been done, has been done in simple love to Christ. He has wrought, in obscurity, with his eye on his Master. The smile of his Lord has been quite enough for him. He has never thought, for one moment, of seeking man's approval; he has never sought to catch his smile or shim his frown; he has pursued the even tenor of his way, simply looking to Christ, and acting for Him. His work will stand. It will he remembered and rewarded, though he did not do it for remembrance or reward, but from simple love to Jesus. It is work of the right stamp—genuine coin which will abide the fire of the day of the Lord.

The thought of all this is very solemn, yet very consolatory—solemn for those who are working, in any measure, under the eye of their fellows—consolatory for all those who are working beneath the eye of their Lord. It is an unspeakable mercy to be delivered from the time-serving, men-pleasing, spirit of the present day; and to be enabled to walk, ever and only, before the Lord—to have " all our works begun, continued, and ended in Him."

Let us look, for a few moments, at the lovely and most touching illustration of this, presented to us in " the house of Simon, the leper," and recorded in Matthew xxvi. " Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper, there came unto him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head, as he sat at meat."

Now, if we inquire as to this woman's object, as she bent her steps to Simon's house, what was it? was it to display the exquisite perfume of her ointment, or the material and form of her alabaster box? Was it to obtain the praise of men for her act? Was it to get a name for extraordinary devotedness to Christ, in the midst of a little knot of personal friends of the Savior? No, reader, it was none of these things. How do we know? Because, the Most High God, the Creator of all things, who knows the deepest secrets of all hearts, and the true motive spring of every action—He was there in the person of Jesus of Nazareth—He, the God of knowledge, by whom actions are weighed, was present; and He weighed her action, in the balances of the sanctuary, and affixed to it the seal of His approval. He sent it forth as genuine coin of the realm. He would not, He could not, have done this, if there had been any alloy, any admixture of base metal, any false motive, any under current. His holy and all-penetrating eye went right down into the very depths of this woman's soul. He knew, not only what she had done, but, how and why she had done it; and He declared, " She hath wrought a good work upon me."

In a word, then, Christ Himself was the immediate object of this woman's soul; and it was this which gave value to her act, and sent the odor of her ointment straight up to the throne of God. Little did she know or think that untold millions would read the record of her deep-toned personal devotedness. Little did she imagine that her act would be stereotyped, by the Master's hand, on the very pages of eternity, and never be obliterated. She thought not of this. She sought not, nor dreamed of such marvelous notoriety; had she done so, it would have robbed her act of all its charms, and deprived her sacrifice of all its fragrance.

But the blessed Lord to whom the act was done, took care that it should not be forgotten. He not only vindicated it, at the moment, but handed it down into the future. This was quite enough for the heart of this woman. Having the approval of her Lord, she could well afford to bear the " indignation" even of " the disciples," and to hear her act pronounced "waste." It was sufficient for her that His heart had been refreshed. All the rest might go for what it was worth. She had never thought of securing man's praise, or of avoiding his scorn. Her one undivided object, from first to last, was Christ. From the moment she laid her hand upon that alabaster box, until she broke it, and poured its contents upon His sacred Person, it was of Himself alone she thought. She had a kind of intuitive perception of what would be suitable and grateful to her Lord, in the solemn circumstances in which He was placed at the moment, and, with exquisite tact, she did that thing. She had never thought of what the ointment might fetch; or, if she had, she felt that He was worth ten thousand times as much. As to "the poor," they had their place, no doubt, and their claims also; but she felt that Jesus was more to her than all the poor in the world.

In short, the woman's heart was filled with Christ, and it was this that gave character to her action. Others might pronounce it " waste;" but we may rest assured that nothing is wasted which is spent for Christ. So the woman judged: and she was right. To put honor upon Him, at the very moment when earth and hell were rising up against Him, was the very highest act of service that man or angel could perform. He was going to be offered up. The shadows were lengthening, the gloom was deepening, the darkness thickening. The cross—with all its horrors—was at hand; and this woman anticipated it all, and came, beforehand, to anoint the body of her adorable Lord.

And mark the result. See how immediately the blessed Lord enters upon her defense, and shields her from the indignation and scorn of those who ought to have known better. " When Jesus understood it, he said unto them, Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me. For ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not always. For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial. Verily, I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her."

Here was a glorious vindication, in the presence of which all human indignation, scorn, and misunderstanding must pass away, like the vapor of the morning before the beams of the rising sun. " Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me." It was this that stamped the act—" a good work upon me." This marked it off from all beside. Everything must be valued according to its connection with Christ. A man may traverse the wide wide world, in order to carry out the noble objects of philanthropy; he may scatter, with a princely hand, the fruits of a large-hearted benevolence; he may give all his goods to feed the poor; he may go to the utmost possible length, in the wide range of religiousness and morality, and yet he may never have done one single thing of which Christ can say, " It is a good work upon me."

Reader, whoever you are, or however you are engaged, ponder this. See that you keep your eye directly upon the Master, in all you do. Make Jesus the immediate object of every little act of service, no matter what. Seek so to do your every work as that He may be able to say, " It is a good work upon me." Do not be occupied with the thoughts of men as to your path or as to your work. Do not mind their indignation or their misunderstanding, but pour your alabaster box of ointment upon the person of your Lord. See that your every act of service is the fruit of your heart's appreciation of Him; and be assured He will appreciate your work and vindicate you before assembled myriads. Thus it was with the woman of whom we have been reading. She took her alabaster box, and made her way to the house of Simon the leper, with one object in her heart, namely, Jesus and what was before Him. She was absorbed in Him. She thought of none beside, but poured her precious ointment on His head. And note the blessed issue. Her act has come down to us, in the gospel record, coupled with His blessed Name. No one can read the gospel without reading also the memorial of her personal devotedness. Empires have risen, flourished, and passed away into the region of silence and oblivion. Monuments have been erected to commemorate human genius, greatness, and philanthropy—and these monuments have crumbled into dust; but the act of this woman still lives, and shall live forever. The hand of the Master has erected a monument to her, winch shall never, no never, perish. May we have grace to imitate her; and, in this day, when there is so much of human effort in the way of philanthropy, may our works, whatever they are, be the fruit of our heart's appreciation of an absent, rejected, crucified Lord!

(To be continued, if the lord will.)

The Alabaster Box: Part 2

There is nothing which so thoroughly tests the heart as the doctrine of the cross—the path of the rejected, crucified Jesus of Nazareth. This probes man's heart to its deepest depths. If it be merely a question of religiousness, man can go an amazing length; but religiousness is not Christ. We need not travel farther than the opening lines of our chapter (Matt, xxvi.) in order to see a striking proof of this. Look, for a moment, at the palace of the high priest and what do you see? A special meeting of the heads and leaders of the people. " Then assembled together the chief priests, and the scribes, and the elders of the people, unto the palace of the high priest, who was called Caiaphas."

Here, assuredly, you have religion, and that, too, in a very imposing form. We must remember that these priests, scribes, and elders were looked up to, by the professed people of God, as the great depositaries of sacred learning, as the sole authority in all matters of religion, and as holding office under God, in that system which had been set up of God in the days of Moses. The assembly in the palace of Caiaphas was not composed of the pagan priests and augurs of Greece and Rome, but of the professed leaders and guides of the Jewish nation. And what were they doing in their solemn conclave? They were " consulting that they might take Jesus by subtlety, and kill him."

Reader, ponder this. Here were religious men, and men of learning, men of weight, no doubt, and influence among the people; and yet these men hated Jesus, and they were met in council, in order to plot His death—to take Him craftily and kill Him. Now those men could have talked to you about God and His worship—about Moses and the law—about the Sabbath and all the great ordinances and solemnities of the Jewish religion. But they hated Christ. Remember tins most solemn fact. Men may be very religious; they may be the religious guides and teachers of others, and yet hate the Christ of God. This is one grand lesson to be learned in the palace of Caiaphas the high priest. Religiousness is not Christ; on the contrary, the most zealous religionists have often been the most bitter and vehement haters of that blessed One.

But, it may be said, " Times are changed. Religion is now so intimately associated with the Name of Jesus, that to be a religious man is, of necessity, to be a lover of Jesus. You could not, now, find aught answering to the palace of Caiaphas." Is this really so? We cannot believe it, for a moment. The Name of Jesus is as thoroughly hated in Christendom, now, as it was in the palace of Caiaphas. And those who seek to follow Jesus will be hated too. We need not go far to prove this. Jesus is still a rejected one, in this world. Where, let us ask, will you hear His Name? Where is He a welcome theme? Speak of Him where you will, in the drawing-rooms of the wealthy and the fashionable, in the railway carriage, in the saloon of a steam-boat, in the coffee-room, or the dining-hall, in short, in any of the resorts of men, and you will, in almost every case, be told that such a theme is out of place. You may speak of anything else, politics, money, business, pleasure, nonsense. These things are always in place, everywhere; Jesus is never in place anywhere. We have seen in our streets, times without number, the public thoroughfares interrupted by German bands, ballad-singers, and puppet-shows, and they have never been molested, reproved, or told to move on; but let a man stand, in such places, to speak of Jesus, and he will be insulted, or told to move on and not stop a thoroughfare. In plane language, there is room everywhere, in this world, for the devil, but no room for the Christ of God. The world's motto as to Christ is, " Oh! breathe not Ms Name."

But, thank God, if we see around us much that answers to the palace of the high priest, we can also see, here and there, that which corresponds with the house of Simon the leper. There are, blessed be God, those who love the Name of Jesus, and who count Him worthy of the alabaster box. There are those who are not ashamed of His precious cross—those who find their absorbing object in Him and who count it their chief joy and highest honor to spend and be spent for Him, in any little way. It is not with them a question of work, of religious machinery, of running hither and thither, of doing this or that: No; it is Christ, it is being near Him, and being occupied with Him; it is sitting at His feet, and pouring the precious ointment of the heart's true devotion upon Him.

Reader, be thou well assured that this is the true secret of power both in service and testimony. A just appreciation of a crucified Christ is the living spring of all that is acceptable to God, whether in the life and conduct of an individual Christian, or in all that goes on in our public assemblies. Genuine attachment to Christ and occupation with Him must characterize us personally and congregationally, else our life and history will prove of little worth in the judgment of heaven, however it may be in the judgment of earth. We know of nothing which imparts such moral power to the individual walk and character as intense devotion to the Person of Christ. It is not merely being a man of great faith, a man of prayer, a deeply taught student of Scripture or a scholar, a gifted preacher or a powerful writer. No; it is being a lover of Christ.

And so, as to the assembly; what is the true secret of power? Is it gift, eloquence, fine music, or an imposing ceremonial? No; it is the enjoyment of a present Christ. Where He is, all is light, life, and power. Where He is not, all is darkness, death, and desolation. An assembly where Jesus is not, is a sepulcher, though there be all the fascination of oratory, all the resistless attraction of fine music, and all the influence of an impressive ritual. All these things may exist in perfection, and yet the devoted lover of Jesus may have to cry out, " Alas! they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him." But, on the other hand, where the presence of Jesus is realized—where His voice is heard, and his very touch felt by the soul, there is power and blessing, though, to man's view, all may seem the most thorough weakness.

Let Christians remember these things; let them ponder them; let them see to it that they realize the Lord's presence in their public assemblies; and if they cannot say, with full confidence, of their meetings that the Lord is there, let them humble themselves and wait upon Him, for there must be a cause. He has said, "Where two or three are gathered together in my name there am I in the midst." But let us never forget that, in order to reach the divine result, there must be the divine condition.

Authority and Power

If ever there was a moment in the history of the professing church in which it behooved people to have divine authority for their path and divine power to pursue it, this is the moment. There are so many conflicting opinions, so many jarring voices, so many opposing schools, so many contending parties, that we are in danger at all points of losing our balance and being carried we know not whither. We find the very best of men ranged on opposite sides of the same question; men who, as far as we can judge, seem to have a single eye to the glory of Christ, and to take the Word of God as their sole authority in all things.

What then is a simple soul to do? How is one to get on in the face of all this? Is there no peaceful haven in the which to anchor one's tiny vessel away from the wild tossing of the stormy ocean of human opinion? Yes, blessed be God, there is; and the reader may know the deep blessedness of casting anchor there this very moment. It is the sweet privilege of the very simplest child of God, the merest babe in Christ, to have divine authority for his path and divine power to pursue it-authority for his position, and power to occupy it-authority for his work, and power to do it.

What is it? Where is it? The authority is found in the divine Word; the power is found in the divine presence. Thus it is, blessed be God, and each and all may know it-ought to know it, for the stability of their path and the joy of their heart.

In contemplating the present condition of professing Christians generally, one is struck with this very painful fact, that so few, so very few, are prepared to face Scripture on all points and on all matters, personal, domestic, commercial, and ecclesiastical. If the question of the soul's salvation be settled-and oh, how rarely it is settled- then, verily, people consider themselves at liberty to break away from the sacred domain of Scripture, and launch forth upon the wild, watery waste of human opinion and human will, where each one may think for himself, and choose for himself, and act for himself.

Now nothing is more certain than this, that where it is merely a question of human opinion, human will, or human judgment, there is not a shadow of authority-not a particle of power. No human opinion has any authority over the conscience, nor can it impart any power to the soul. It may go for what it is worth, but it has neither authority nor power for me. I must have God's Word and God's presence, else I cannot get on. If anything, no matter what, comes between my conscience and the Word of God, I know not where I am, what to do, or whither to turn. And if anything, no matter what, comes in between my heart and the presence of God, I am perfectly powerless. The word of the Lord is my only directory; His dwelling in me and with me, my only power. "Have I not commanded thee?" "Lo, I am with you."

But, it may be the reader feels disposed to inquire, Is it really true that the Word of God contains ample guidance for all the details of life? Does it direct me in my personal path, in my domestic relationships, in my commercial position, in my religious associations and opinions?

Most assuredly it does. The Word of God furnishes you thoroughly to all good works; and any work for which it does not furnish you is not good, but bad. Let us bow down to its holy authority in all things. Let us humbly and reverently yield ourselves to its heavenly guidance. Let us give up every habit, every practice, every association, be it what it may, or be it sanctioned by whom it may, for which we have not the direct authority of God's Word, and in which we cannot enjoy the sense of His presence-the life of His appreciating countenance.

This is a point of the very gravest moment. Indeed it would be impossible for human language to set forth with due force or in adequate terms, the vast importance of absolute and complete submission to the authority of Scripture in all things-yes, we would say, and with all emphasis -all things.

One of our greatest practical difficulties in dealing with souls arises from the fact that they do not seem to have any idea of submitting in all things to Scripture. They will not face the Word of God, nor consent to be taught exclusively from its sacred pages. Creeds and confessions, religious forms, the commandments, the doctrines, and the traditions of men-these things will be heard and yielded to. Our own will, our own judgment, our own views of things will be allowed to bear sway. Expediency, position, reputation, personal influence, the opinion of friends, the thoughts and example of good and great men, the fear of grieving or giving offense to those we love and esteem and with whom we may have been long associated in our religious life and service, the dread of being thought presumptuous, intense shrinking from the appearance of judging or condemning many at whose feet we would willingly sit-all these things operate and exert a most pernicious influence upon the soul, and hinder full surrender of ourselves to the paramount authority of God's Word.

May the Lord graciously stir up our hearts in reference to this weighty subject! May He lead us, by His Holy Spirit, to see the true place and the real value and power of His Word. May that. Word

be set up in our souls as the one all-sufficient rule, so that everything-no matter what-may be unhesitatingly and utterly rejected that is not based upon its authority. Then we may expect to make progress. Then shall our path be as the path of the just, like a shining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. May we never rest satisfied until, in reference to all our habits, all our ways, all our associations, our religious position and service, all we do and all we do not do; where we go and where we do not go, we can truly say we have the sanction of God's Word and the light of His presence. Here, and here alone, lies the deep and precious secret of AUTHORITY and POWER.

The Book and the Soul

In the formation of the character of a successful minister of the word of God, two ingredients are essentially necessary, namely, first, an accurate acquaintance with the Bible; and, secondly, a due sense of the value of the soul and of its necessities. The combination of these two qualities is of the utmost importance in the case of everyone who is called to minister in the word and doctrine. To possess only one of them will leave a man a thoroughly one-sided minister. I may be deeply read in scripture; I may have a profound acquaintance with the contents of the book, and a most exquisite sense of its moral glories; but if I forget the soul and its deep and manifold necessities, my ministry will be lamentably defective. It will lack point, pungency, and power. It will not meet the cravings of the heart, or tell upon the conscience. It will be a ministry from the book, hut not to the soul. True and beautiful, no doubt, but deficient in usefulness and practical power.

On the other hand, I may have the soul and its need distinctly before me. I may long to be useful. It may be my heart's desire to minister to the heart and the conscience of my hearer or my reader; but if I am not acquainted with my Bible; if I am not a well-taught scribe, I shall hare no material wherewith to be useful. I shall have nothing to give the soul—nothing to reach the heart—nothing to act on the conscience. My ministry will prove barren and tiresome. Instead of teaching souls, I shall tease them, and instead of edifying I shall irritate them. My exhortation, instead of urging souls on along the upward path of discipleship, will, from a lack of basis, have the effect of discouraging them.

These things are worthy of some consideration. You may sometimes listen to a person, ministering the word, who possesses a great deal of the first of the above-named qualities, and very little of the second. It is evident he has the book and its moral glories before his spiritual vision. He is occupied, yea, engrossed with them—so engrossed indeed as, at times, almost to forget that he has souls before him. There is no pointed and powerful appeal to the heart, no fervent grappling with the conscience, no practical application of the contents of the book to the souls of the hearers. It is very beautiful, but not so useful as it might be. The minister is deficient in the second quality. He is more a minister of the book than a minister to the soul.

Then, again, you will find some who, in their ministry, seem to be wholly occupied with the soul. They appeal, they exhort, they urge. But from lack of acquaintance and regular occupation with scripture, souls are absolutely exhausted and worn out under their ministry. True, they ostensibly make the book the basis of their ministry, but their use of it is so unskillful, their handling of it so awkward, their application of it so palpably unintelligent, that their ministry proves as uninteresting as it is unprofitable.

Now, if we were asked which of the two characters of ministry should we prefer? Without hesitation, we should say, the first. If the moral glories of the book are unfolded, there is something to interest and affect the heart, and if one is at all earnest and conscientious, he may get on. Whereas, in the second case, there is nothing but tiresome appeal and scolding exhortation.

But, we need hardly say, we long to see an accurate acquaintance with the Bible, and a due sense of the value of the soul, combined and healthfully adjusted in every one who stands up to minister to souls. The didactic will not do without the hortatory, or the hortatory without the didactic. Hence, therefore, let every minister study the book and its glories and think of the soul and its needs. Yes;—let each one remember the link between the book and the soul.

The Brazen Sea

(2 Chron. 4)

" And Solomon made a molten sea of ten cubits from brim to brim, round in compass, and five cubits the height thereof; and a line of thirty cubits did compass it round about. And under it was the similitude of oxen, which did compass it round about; ten in a cubit, compassing the sea round about. Two rows of oxen were cast, when it was cast. It stood upon twelve oxen, three looking toward the North, and three looking toward the West, and three looking toward the South, and three looking toward the East; and the sea was set above upon them, and all their hinder parts were inward. And the thickness of it was an handbreadth and the brim of it like the work of a brim of a cup, with flowers of lilies; and it received and held three thousand baths.....THE SEA WAS FOR THE PRIESTS TO WASH IN." (2 Chron. 4:2-6.)

In order to a clear understanding of the doctrine taught us in this beautiful and significant figure, three things demand our attention, namely, the material, the contents, the object. May God the Spirit guide our thoughts and speak to our hearts as we dwell upon these things!

I. The Material. Solomon's molten sea was made of brass, which is the apt symbol of divine righteousness demanding judgment upon sin, as in the brazen altar; or demanding judgment upon uncleanness, as in the brazen sea. The Lord Jesus is spoken of, in the first chapter of Revelation, as having " His feet like unto fine brass as if they burned in a furnace." It is thus He is seen walking amongst the candlesticks. He cannot tolerate evil, but must, in the exercise of judgment, trample it beneath His feet. This will explain the reason why the altar where sin was expiated, and the sea where defilement was washed away, were both made of brass. Everything in scripture has its meaning, and we should seek, in a spirit of prayer, to ascertain what that meaning is.

Now, it is most comforting and establishing to the heart to be assured of this, that the sin which God freely pardons, and the uncleanness which he freely removes, have been both fully and forever judged and condemned in the cross. Not a single jot or tittle of guilt—not a single trace of uncleanness has been passed over; all has been divinely judged. " Mercy rejoiceth against judgment;" and " Grace reigns through righteousness." (Jas. 2:13; Rom. 5:21.) The believer is pardoned and cleansed; but his guilt and uncleanness were judged on the cross. The knowledge of this most precious truth works in a double way—it sets the heart and conscience perfectly free, while, at the same time, it causes us to abhor sin and uncleanness, with an ever growing intensity. The altar of brass told forth, in mute yet impressive eloquence, its double story: guilt had been divinely condemned, and therefore could be divinely pardoned. The molten sea gave silent but clear testimony to the fact that uncleanness had been divinely judged, and, on that ground, could be divinely washed away.

"What deep consolation for the heart, in all this! And yet it is holy consolation. I cannot gaze upon the antitype of the altar and lightly commit sin. I cannot muse upon the antitype of the molten sea, and indifferently contract defilement. My consolation is deep and solid, because I know I am pardoned and cleansed; but my consolation is holy, because I know that Jesus had to yield up His life to procure my pardon and cleansing. God has been perfectly glorified; sin and uncleanness have been perfectly condemned; I am set eternally free; but the death of Christ is the basis of all. Such is the consolatory yet holy lesson taught us in the material of the brazen altar and the molten sea. Nothing is passed over by God; and yet nothing is imputed to me, because Christ was judged for all.

II. Let us now consider, in the second place, the contents of Solomon's molten sea. " It received and held three thousand baths" of water. If at the altar I see brass in connection with blood, at the sea I find brass in connection with water. Both point to Christ. " This is he that came by water and blood, Jesus Christ; not by water only, but water and blood." (1 John 5:6.) " But one of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side, and forthwith came there out blood and water." (John 19:34.) The blood that expiates, and the water that cleanses, both flow from a crucified Savior. Precious and solemn truth! Precious, because we have expiation and cleansing; solemn, because of the way in which we get them.

But the brazen sea contained water, not blood. Those who approached thereto had already proved the power of the blood, and therefore only needed the washing of water. Thus it was in the type, and thus it is in the antitype. A priest, under the law, whose hands and feet had become defiled, did not need to go back to the brazen altar; but forward to the brazen sea. He did not need again to apply the blood, in order to constitute him a priest, but only to wash with water, to enable him to discharge his priestly functions. So now, if a believer fails, if he commits sin, if he contracts defilement, he does not need to be again washed in the blood, as at the first, but simply the cleansing action of the word, whereby the Holy Ghost doth apply to the soul the remembrance of what Christ has done, so that the defilement is removed, the communion restored, and the spiritual priest fitted, afresh, to discharge his priestly functions. " He that is washed needeth not, save to wash his feet, but is clean every whit." (John 13:10.) " The worshippers once purged should have had no more conscience of sins." (Heb. 10:2.) Does this make little of defilement? The very opposite. Did the provision of a molten sea, with its three thousand baths of water, make little of priestly defilement? Did it not rather prove how much was made of it—what a serious matter it was in the judgment of God—how impossible it was to go on with a single soil upon the hands and feet?

Let my reader ponder this matter. Let him examine it in the light of scripture. Let him see that he really understands it. There is, in many cases, a great want of clearness as to the doctrine set forth in the brazen altar and the molten sea. Hence it is that so many earnest Christians get into spiritual darkness and trouble as to the question of daily sins and daily defilement. They do not see the divine completeness of their purgation, by the blood of Christ, and they therefore entertain the idea that they must, on every fresh occasion, betake themselves, as at the beginning, to the brazen altar, as if they had never been washed at all. This is a mistake. When once a man is purged by the blood of Jesus, he is clean forever. If Christ has cleansed me, I am divinely, and, therefore, eternally clean. I am introduced into a condition to which perfect cleanness attaches, and I can never be out of it. I may lose the sense of it, the power of it, the enjoyment of it. Peter speaks of some forgetting that they were purged from their old sins. If sin be trifled with, and if self be not judged, it is hard to say what a Christian may come to. The Lord give us to walk softly and tenderly, before Him, every day, so that we may not come under the blinding and hardening influence of sin!

But, be it remembered, that the most effectual safeguard against the working and the influence of sin, is to have the heart established in grace, and to be clear in the apprehension of our standing in Christ. To be dark or doubtful as to these things is the sure way of falling into Satan's snares. If I am seeking to live a holy life in order to establish my position before God, I shall either be propped up in Pharisaism, or plunged into some horrible sin. But when I know that all my sins and all my defilements were judged and condemned in the cross, and that I am justified and accepted in a risen Christ, then I stand on the true ground of holiness. And, if I fail, as, alas! I do constantly, I can bring my failure to God, in confession and self-judgment, and know Him as faithful and just to forgive me my sins and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. I judge myself on the ground of this, that Christ has been already judged before God for the very thing which I confess in His presence. If it were not so, my confession would be of no use. The only ground on which God can be "faithful and just to forgive and cleanse" is that Christ has already been judged on my behalf; and, most assuredly God will not execute judgment twice for the same thing. True it is—blessedly true, I must confess and judge myself, if I have gone wrong. A single sinful thought is sufficient to interrupt my communion. Every such thought must be judged, ere my communion can proceed. But it is as a purged one that I confess. I am no longer viewed as a sinner, having to do with God as a Judge. I am now in the position of a child having to do with God as a Father. He has made provision for my daily need, a provision which does not involve a denial of my place and portion, or an ignoring of the work of Christ; but a provision which tells me at once of the holiness and grace of Him who made it. I am not to ignore the altar because I need the sea, but I am to adore the grace of Him who provided both the one and the other.

III. Having said thus much on the material and contents of Solomon's molten sea, a very few words will suffice as to the object thereof. "The sea was for the priests to wash in." Thither came the priests, from day to day, to wash their hands and feet, so that they might always be in a fit condition to go through their priestly work. A striking type, this, of God's spiritual priests, that is to say, of all true believers whose works and ways need to be cleansed by the action of the word. Both the brazen laver, in the tabernacle, and the brazen sea in the temple, foreshadowed that " washing of water by the word " which Christ is now carrying on by the power of the Holy Ghost. Christ, in Person, is acting up in heaven for us; and, by his Spirit and word, He is acting in us And on us. Thus, and only thus, are we enabled to get on. He restores us when we wander; He cleanses us from every soil; He corrects our every error. He ever liveth for us. We are saved by His life. He maintains us in the full power and integrity of the position in which His precious blood has set us. All is secured in Him. " Christ loved the church, and gave himself for it; that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, that he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish." Eph. 5:25-27.

And now, one word as to the " oxen" which sustained the brazen sea. The ox is used in scripture as the symbol of patient labor; and hence their significant place beneath the brazen sea. From whatever side the priest approached, he was met by the apt expression of patient labor. It mattered not how often or in what way he came, he could never exhaust the patience that was devoted to the work of cleansing him from all his defilements. What a precious figure! And we have the substance in Christ. We can never weary Him by our frequent coming. His patience is exhaustless. He will not tire until He presents us to Himself without spot or wrinkle or any such thing.

May our hearts adore Him who is our Altar, our Laver, our Sacrifice, our Priest, our Advocate, our All!

Christ and His Yoke

" Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

In this precious and well-known passage we have two points which are very distinct, and yet intimately connected, namely, Christ and His yoke. We have, first, coming to Christ, and its results; and! secondly, taking His yoke, and its results. " Come unto me, and I will give you rest." " Take my yoke, and ye shall find rest." These things, being distinct, should never be confounded; and, being intimately connected, should never be separated. To confound them, is to dim the luster of divine grace; to separate them, is to infringe upon the claims of divine holiness. Both these evils should be carefully guarded against.

Many there are who hold up before the eye of the "heavy laden" sinner, the yoke of Christ as something which he must " take on" ere his burdened heart can taste of that blessed rest which Christ ''gives" to "all" who simply " come unto him," just as they are. The passage before us does not teach this. It puts Christ first, and His yoke afterward. It does not hide Christ behind His yoke, but rather places Him, in all His attractive grace, before the heart, as the One who can meet every need, remove every weight, hush every guilty fear, fill up every blank, satisfy every longing desire; in a word, who is able to do as He says He will, even to-""give rest" There are no conditions proposed, no demands made, no barriers erected. The simple, touching, melting, subduing, inviting, winning word is, " Come'' It is not, "Go;" "Do;" "Give;'' " Bring;" " Feel;'' " Realize." No it is, " Come." And how are we to "Come?" Just as we are. To whom are we to " Come? " To Jesus. When are we to " Come?" "Now."

Observe, then, we are to come just as we are. We are not to wait for the purpose of altering a single jot or tittle of our state, condition, or character. To do this, would he to " come " to some alteration or improvement in ourselves; whereas Christ distinctly and emphatically says, " Come unto me." Many souls err on this point. They think they must amend their ways, alter their course, or improve their moral condition, ere they come to Christ; whereas, in point of fact, until they really do come to Christ they cannot amend, 01Î alter, or improve anything. There is no warrant whatever for any one to believe that he will be a single whit better, an hour, a day, a month, or a year hence, than he is this moment. And even were he better, he would not, on that account, be a whit more welcome to Christ than he is now. There is no such thing as an offer of salvation, to-morrow. The word is, " To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts." (Heb. 3:15.) " Behold now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." 2 Cor. 6:2.

There is nothing more certain than that all who have ever tried the self-improvement plan have found it an utter failure. They have begun in darkness, continued in misery, and ended in despair. And yet, strange to say, in view of the numberless beacons which are ranged before us, in terrible array, to warn us of the folly and danger of traveling that road, we are sure, at the first, to adopt it. In some way or another, self is looked to, and wrought upon* in order to procure a warrant to come to Christ. "They, being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God." (Rom. 10:3.) Nothing can possibly be a more dreary, depressing, hopeless task, than " going about to establish one's own righteousness.'' Indeed, the dreariness of the task must ever be commensurate with the earnestness and sincerity of the soul that undertakes it. Such an one will, assuredly, have, sooner or later, to give utterance to the cry, " Ο wretched man that I am! and also to ask the question, " Who shall deliver me?" (Rom. 7:21.) There can be no exception. All with whom the Spirit of God has ever wrought, have, in one way or another, been constrained to own the hopelessness of seeking to work out a righteousness for themselves. Christ must be all; self, nothing. This doctrine 13 easily stated; but oh, the experience!

The same is true, in reference to the grand reality of sanctification. Many who have come to Christ for righteousness have not practically and experimentally laid hold of Him as their sanctification. Whereas He is made of God, unto us, the one as well as the other. " But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification and redemption: that" -how deeply important, how cogent the reason! "according as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord." (Cor. i. 30, 31.) The believer is just as powerless in the work of sanctification as in the work of righteousness. If it were not so, some flesh might glory in the divine presence. I could no more subdue a single lust, or trample under foot a single passion, or gain the mastery over a single temper, than I could open the kingdom of heaven, or establish my own righteousness before God. This is not sufficiently understood; and hence it is that many true Christians constantly suffer the most humiliating defeats in their practical career. They know that Christ is their righteousness, that their sins are forgiven, that they are children of God; but, then, they are sorely put about by their constant failure in personal holiness, in practical sanctification. Again and again, they enter the lists with some unhallowed desire or unsanctified temper; and, again and again, they are compelled to retire with shame and confusion of face. A person or a circumstance crossed their path yesterday, and caused them to lose their temper, and, having to meet the same today, they resolve to do better; but, alas! they are again forced to retreat in disappointment and humiliation.

Now, it is not that such persons may not pray earnestly for the grace of the Holy Spirit to enable them to conquer both themselves and the influences which surround them. This is not the point. They have not yet learned practically, and, oh! how worthless the mere theory! that they are as completely "without strength" in the matter of " sanctification " as they are in the matter of " righteousness," and, that as regards both the one and the other, Christ must be all; self, nothing. In a word, they have not yet entered into the meaning of the words, " Come unto me, and I will give you rest." Here lies the source of their failure. They are as thoroughly powerless in the most trivial matter connected with practical sanctification, as they are in the entire question of their standing before God; and they must be brought to believe this, ere they can know the fullness of the " rest" which Christ gives. It is impossible that I can enjoy rest amid incessant defeats in my practical, daily life.

True, I can come, over and over again, and pour into my Heavenly Father's ear the humiliating tale of my failure and overthrow. I can confess my sins and find Him ever " faithful and just to forgive me my sins, and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:9.) But, then, we must learn Christ as the Lord our sanctification, as well as "The Lord our righteousness;" and, moreover, it is by faith and not by effort, we are to enter into both the one and the other. We look to Christ for righteousness, because we have none of our own; and we look to Christ for practical sanctification, because we have none of our own. It needed no personal effort on our part to get righteousness, because Christ is our righteousness; and it needs no personal effort on our part to get sanctification, because Christ is our sanctification.

It seems strange that, while the inspired apostle distinctly tells us that Christ is " made of God unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption," we, nevertheless, should attach the idea of personal effort to one out of the four things which he enumerates. Can we guide ourselves in the ten thousand difficulties and details of our Christian course by our own wisdom or sagacity? Surely not. Ought we to make an effort? By no means. Why not? Because God has made Christ to be our " wisdom," and therefore it is our precious privilege, having been brought to our " wits' end," to look to Christ for wisdom. In other words, when Christ says, " Come unto me," He means that we are to come unto Him for wisdom as well as for all else; and, clearly, we cannot come to Christ, and to our own efforts, at the same time. Nay, so long as we are making efforts, we must be strangers to " rest."

The same holds good with respect to righteousness." Can we work out a righteousness for ourselves? Surely not. Ought we not to make an effort? By no means. Why not? Because God has made Christ to be unto us "righteousness," and that righteousness is "to him that worketh not." Rom. 4:5.

So also in the matter of "redemption," which is put last in 1 Cor. 1:30, because it includes the final deliverance of the body of the believer from under the power of death. Could we, by personal effort, deliver our bodies from the dominion of mortality? Surely not. Ought we not to try? The thought were monstrous, yea impious. Why? Because God has made Christ to be unto us " redemption," as regards both soul and body, and He who has already applied, by the power of His Spirit, that glorious redemption to our souls, will, ere long, apply it to our bodies.

Why, then, let me ask, should "sanctification" be singled out from the precious category, and saddled with the legal and depressing idea of personal effort? If we cannot by our own efforts, get " wisdom, righteousness, and redemption," are we a whit more likely to succeed in getting " sanctification? " Clearly not. And have we not proved this, times without number? Have not our closet walls witnessed our tears and groans evoked by the painful sense of failure after failure in our own efforts to tread with steady step and erect carriage, the lofty walks of personal sanctity? Will the reader deny this? I trust not. I would fain hope he has responded to the call of Jesus, " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." It is vain to " labor " in our own strength, after sanctification. We must come to Jesus for that as well as for everything else. And, having come to Jesus, we shall find that there is no lust which He cannot slay, no temper that He cannot subdue, no passion that He cannot overcome. The self-same hand that has canceled our sins, that guides us in our difficulties, and that will, by and by, deliver our bodies from the power of death, can give us complete victory over all our personal infirmities and besetments, and fill our hearts with His sacred rest.

It is, I believe, immensely important to have a clear understanding of the question of sanctification. Hundreds have gone on "laboring and heavy laden" for years, endeavoring to work out in one way or another, their sanctification; and, not having succeeded to their satisfaction-for who ever did, or ever could?-they have been tempted to question if they were ever converted at all. Many, were they to tell out " all the truth,'' could adopt as their own, the mournful lines of the poet,

" 'Tis a point I long to know,

Oft it causeth anxious thought,

Do I love the Lord or no?

Am I His or am I not?"

Such persons have clear views of gospel truth. They could, with scriptural accuracy, tell an inquirer after righteousness how, where, and when he could get it. And yet, if that self-same inquirer were to ask them, about their own real state of heart before God, they could give but a sorry answer. Why is this? Simply because they have not laid hold of Christ as their sanctification, as well as their righteousness. They have been endeavoring, partly in their own strength, and partly by praying for the influences of the Holy Spirit, to stumble along the path of sanctification. They would, doubtless, deem a person very ignorant of what is called " the plan of salvation," if they found him "going about to establish his own righteousness but they do not see that they themselves exhibit, in another way, ignorance of that "plan" by going about to establish their own sanctification. And truly if, in the one case, it is a sorry righteousness which is wrought out, so, in the other case, it is a lame sanctification. For if it be true that "all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags," it is equally true that all our sanctifications are as filthy rags. Whatever has the word "our" attached to it must be altogether imperfect. Christ is God's righteousness, and Christ is God's sanctification. Both the one and the other are to be had by simply coming, looking, clinging, trusting to Christ. I need hardly say, it is by the power of the Spirit, and through the Holy Scriptures that Christ is applied to us, both as our righteousness and oar sanctification. But all this only takes the matter more and more out of our hands, and leaves us nothing to glory in. If we could conquer an evil temper, we might indeed think ourselves clever; but as we are not asked to pick up a feather in order to add to our righteousness, or our wisdom, or our redemption, so neither are we asked to pick up a feather in order to add to our sanctification. In this, as in those, Christ is all: self, nothing. This doctrine is easily stated; but oh, the experience!

And, now, will any one say that the writer of this article is doing away with sanctification? If so, he may just as well say that he is doing away with "righteousness," "wisdom" or "redemption." Who will contend for self-righteousness, self-wisdom or self-redemption? Who but the man that contends for self-sanctification? Who is likely to attain and exhibit the more elevated standard of personal sanctity? Is it the man who is perpetually floundering amid his own imperfect struggles and cobweb-resolutions, or he who is daily, hourly, and momentarily clinging to Christ as his sanctification? The answer is simple. The sanctification which we get in Christ is as perfect as the righteousness, the wisdom, and the redemption. Am I doing away with " wisdom," because I say I am foolish? Am I doing away with "righteousness," because I say, I am guilty? Am I doing away with " redemption," because I say, I am mortal? Am I doing away with " sanctification," because I say, I am vile? Yes, I am doing away with all these things so far as "I" am concerned, in order that I may find them all in Christ. This is the point. All-all in Christ!

Oh! when shall we learn to get to the end of self, and cling simply to Christ? When shall we enter into the depth and power of those words "Come unto me?" He does not say, "come unto my yoke." No; but, "come unto me." We must cease from our own works, in every shape and form, and come to Christ,-come, just as we are- come, now. We come to Christ and get rest from and in Him before ever we hear a word about the " yoke." To put the yoke first is to displace everything. If a " heavy laden " sinner thinks of the yoke, he must be overwhelmed by the thought of his own total inability to take it upon him or carry it. But when he comes to Jesus and enters into His precious rest, he finds the " yoke is easy and the burden light."

II. This conducts us to the second point in our subject, namely, " the yoke." It has been already observed that we must keep the two things distinct. To confound them, is to tarnish the heavenly luster of the grace of Christ, and to put a yoke upon the sinner's neck and a burden upon his shoulder which he, as being "without strength," is wholly unable to bear. But, then, they are morally connected. All who come to Christ, must take His yoke upon them and learn of Him, if they would "find rest unto their souls " To come to Christ is one thing; to walk with Him, or learn of Him, is quite another. Christ was " meek and lowly in heart." He could meet the most adverse and discouraging circumstances with an " even so, Father." The Baptist's heart might fail amid the heavy clouds which gathered around him in Herod's dungeon; the men of that generation might refuse the double testimony of righteousness and grace, as furnished by the ministry of John and of our Lord Himself; Bethsaida, Chorazin, and Capernaum might refuse the testimony of His mighty works-a torrent of evidence which one might suppose would sweep away every opposing barrier; all these things, and many more might cross the path of the Divine Workman; but, being "meek and lowly in heart," He could say, " I thank thee, Ο Father-even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight." His " rest" in the Father's counsels was profound and perfect; and He invites us to take His yoke, to learn of Him, to drink into His spirit, to know the practical results of a subject mind, that so we may find rest unto our souls." A broken will is the real ground of the rest which we are to " find," after we have come to Christ. If God wills one thing, and we will another, we cannot find rest in that. It matters not what the scene or circumstance may be. We may swell a list of things, to any imaginable extent, in which our will may run counter to the will of God; but, in whatever it is, we cannot find rest so long as our will is unbroken. We must get to the end of self in the matter of will, as well as in the matter of " wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, or redemption," else we shall not "find rest."

This, my beloved reader, is deep, real, earnest, personal work. Moreover, it is a daily thing. It is a continual taking of Christ's yoke upon us, and learning of Him. It is not that we take the yoke in order to come to Christ. No; but we come to Christ first, and then, when His love fills and satisfies our souls, when His rest refreshes our spirits, when we can gaze, by faith, upon His gracious countenance, and see Him stooping down to confer upon us the high and holy privilege of wearing His yoke and learning His lesson, we find that His yoke is indeed easy, and His burden light. Unsubdued, unjudged, unmortified nature could never wear that yoke or bear that burden. The first thing is, " Come unto me, and I will give you rest." The second thing is, "Take my yoke upon you, and ye shall find rest."

We must never reverse these things-never confound them-never displace them-never separate them. To call upon a sinner to take Christ's yoke before he has gotten Christ's rest, is to place Christ on the top of Mount Sinai, the sinner at the foot of that Mount, and a dark impenetrable cloud between. This must not be done. Christ stands, in all His matchless grace, before the sinner's eye, and pours forth his touching invitation, " Come," and adds His heart-assuring promise, "I will give." There is no condition, no demand, "no servile work." All is the purest, freest, richest grace. Just, "come, and I will give you rest." And what then? Is it bondage, doubt, and fear? Ah! no ''Take my yoke upon you." How marvelously near this brings us to the One who has already given us rest! What a high honor to wear the same yoke with Him! It is not that He puts a grievous yoke upon our neck and a heavy burden upon our shoulder, which we have to carry up the rugged sides of you fiery Mount. This is not Christ's way. It is not thus He deals with the weary and heavy laden that come unto Him. He gives them rest. He gives them part of His yoke, and a share of His burden. In other words, He calls them into fellowship with Himself, and in proportion as they enter into this fellowship, they find still deeper and deeper rest in Him and in His blessed ways; and, at the close, He will conduct them into that eternal rest which remains for the people of God.

May the Lord enable us to enter, more fully, into the power of all these divine realities, that so His joy may remain in us, and our joy may be full. There is an urgent need of a full, unreserved surrender of the heart to Christ, and a full, unreserved acceptance of Him, in all His precious adaptation to our every need. We want the whole heart, the single eye, the mortified mind, the broken will. Where these exist, there will be little complaining of doubts and fears, ups and downs, heavy days, vacant hours, restless moments, dullness and stupor, wandering and barrenness. When one has got to the end of himself, as regards wisdom, righteousness, holiness, and all beside, and when he has really found Christ as God's provision for ALL, then, but not until then, he will know the depth and power of that word," REST."

" Now, then, my Lord, my Way, my Life,

Henceforth, let trouble, doubt, and strife,

Drop off as Autumn leaves:

Henceforth, as privileged by Thee,

Simple and undistracted be,

My soul which to thy scepter cleaves

At all times, to my spirit bear

An inward witness, soft and clear,

Of Thy redeeming power:

This will instruct thy child, and fit,

Will sparkle forth whate'er is meet,

For exigence of every hour.

Thus, all the sequel is well weighed;

I cast myself upon Thine aid,

A sea where none can sink,

Yea, in that sphere I stand, poor worm,

Where Thou wilt for Thy name perform

Above whate'er I ask or think."

Cloven Tongues

(Acts 2:1-11.)

It will greatly enhance the grace of this lovely passage of scripture to bear in mind what it was that rendered the cloven tongues necessary. In the eleventh chapter of Genesis, we have the inspired record of the first grand effort of the children of men to establish themselves in the earth—to form a great association, and make themselves a name. And all this, be it remembered, without God. His name is never mentioned. He was not to form any part of this proud and popular scheme. He was entirely shut out. It was not a dwelling place for God that was to be erected on the plain of Shinar. It was a city for man—a center round which men were to gather.

Such was the object of the children of men, as they stood together on the plain of Shinar. It was not, as some have imagined, to escape another deluge. There is not a shadow of foundation in the passage for any such idea. Here are their words, " And they said, Go to, let us build us a city, and a tower whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth." There is no thought here of escaping another flood. It is sheer imagination, without any scripture basis. The object is as plain as possible. It is precisely similar to all those great confederacies, associations, or masses of flesh, that have been formed on the earth from that day to this. The Shinar Association could vie with any association of modern times, both in its principle and object.

But it proved to be a Babel. Jehovah wrote confusion upon it. He divided their tongues and scattered them abroad, whether they would or not. In a word, divided tongues were sent as the expression of divine judgment upon this first great human association. This is a solemn and weighty fact. An association without God, no matter what its object, is really nothing but a mass of flesh, based on pride, and ending in hopeless confusion. " Associate yourselves, Ο ye people, and ye shall be broken, in pieces." (Isa. 8:9.) So much for all human associations. May we learn to keep clear of them! Μ ay we adhere to that one divine association, namely, the Church of the living God, of which a risen Christ in glory is the living Head, the Holy Ghost the living Guide, and the Word of God the living Charter!

It was to gather this blessed assembly that the cloven tongues were sent, in grace, on the day of Pentecost. No sootier had the Lord Jesus Christ taken His seat at the right hand of power, amid the brightness of heaven's majesty, than He sent down the Holy Ghost to publish the glad tidings of salvation in the ears of His very murderers. And, inasmuch as that message of pardon and peace was intended for men of various tongues, so the divine messenger came down prepared to address each "in his own tongue wherein he was born." The God of all grace made it plain—so plain that it cannot be mistaken—that He desired to make His way to each heart, with the sweet story of grace. Man, on the plain of Shinar, did not want God; but God, on the day of Pentecost, proved that he wanted man. Blessed, forever, be His holy Name! God had sent His Son, and man had just murdered Him; and, now He sends the Holy Ghost to tell man that there is pardon through that very blood which he had shed, for his guilt in shedding it. Matchless, marvelous, overwhelming grace! Oh! that it may subdue our hearts, and bind us to Him who is, at once, its source, its channel, and the power of enjoyment! The grace of God has far out-topped all the enmity of man. It has proved itself victorious over all the opposition of the human heart, and all the rage of hell.

Thus, then, in Gen. 11 divided tongues were sent in judgment. In Acts 2 divided tongues were sent in grace. The blessed God of all grace would cause each one to hear of full salvation, and hear of it in those very accents in which his infant ears had hearkened to the earliest whisperings of a mother's love. " His own tongue wherein he was born." It mattered not whether the tongue were soft or harsh, refined or barbarous, the Holy Ghost would use it as the vehicle for conveying the precious message of salvation right home to the poor heart. If divided tongues had once been given to scatter in judgment, they were again given to gather in grace; not now round an earthly tower, but round a heavenly Christ; not for the exaltation of man, but for the glory of God.

Now, it is well worthy of notice, that when God was giving the law from Mount Sinai, He spoke only in one tongue and to one people. The law was carefully wrapped up in one language, and deposited in the midst of one nation. Not so the Gospel. When that was the burden, God the Holy Ghost Himself descended from heaven, in cloven tongues, to waft the soul-stirring tidings, far and wide, over the whole world, and convey them "to every creature under heaven" in the very dialect wherein he was born. This is a great moral fact. It comes down upon the heart with uncommon weight and power. When God was speaking in terms of requirement and prohibition, He confined Himself to one language; but when He was publishing the message of life and salvation, pardon and peace, through the blood of the Lamb, He spoke in every language under heaven. When man's duty was to be declared, God spoke in one dialect; but when God's salvation was to be published, He spoke in every dialect under heaven.

This, surely, tells a tale. It declares plainly which is more in harmony with the divine mind, law or grace. Blessed be His Name, He delights in grace. Law and judgment are His strange work. He has pronounced the feet of those that publish the gospel to be beautiful; whereas, of those who desired to be teachers of the law, He has said, " I would they were even cut off that trouble you." Thus His acts and His words discover the bent of His loving heart towards poor unworthy sinners. He has left nothing undone, nothing unsaid, to prove His perfect willingness to save and bless; and therefore all who die in their sins will perish without excuse, and those awful words will echo through the regions of eternal gloom, forever and ever, "1 would, but ye would not!" Reader, think of this! Are you yet in your sins? If so, we earnestly beseech you to flee, now, from the wrath to come. Accept the message of pardon, now sent to you in your own tongue wherein you were born, and go on your way rejoicing.

In conclusion, we might add, that Gen. 11, Acts 2, and Rev. 7:9-17 form a very lovely group of scriptures. In the first, we see divided tongues sent, in judgment; in the second, divided tongues given in grace; and in the third, divided tongues gathered in glory. Well may we say, " Thy testimonies are wonderful, therefore doth my soul love them."

David's Last Words

(2 Sam. 23)

There is something deeply touching and most consolatory in the last words of " The sweet Psalmist of Israel." It is good and profitable to listen to the " last words " of any saint of God or servant of Christ—well to hearken to the mellow accents of the hoary-headed and experienced—seasonable to those who have reached the final stage of life's rough journey. We all know that, upon our first starting on our course, there is a quantity of romance about us. We cherish large expectations from men and things. We fondly imagine that all is gold that glitters, and we foolishly hope that all the promises and pretensions of the scene around will be fully actualized. But alas! as we get on, we discover our mistake. Stern reality cures us of much of our youthful romance, and the keen blasts of the desert carry away much of the bloom of our young days, The young believer is apt to confide in every one who makes a profession; and this artless confidence is very lovely. Would that it always met with a more worthy response. But it does not. One meets with much, even in an ordinary Christian career, to chill, to wither, to contract, and repulse. Hence the weight and value of " last words,'" in any case, but especially when we get them, not merely as the fruit of matured judgment, but, as in David's case, by inspiration of the Holy Ghost.

" Now these be the last words of David, David the son of Jesse said, and the man who was raised up on high, the anointed of the God of Jacob, and the sweet psalmist of Israel, said, The Spirit of the Lord spake by me, and his word was in my tongue. The God of Israel said, the Rock of Israel spake to me, He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God. And he 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."

Here, David sets up the divine standard of character for one called to rule over men. " He must be just; " and upon the basis of justice is erected a superstructure of cloudless light, richest blessing, and abundant fruitfulness. All this will, as we very well know, be only realized when the Son of David, now hidden in the heavens, shall ascend the throne of his Father, and stretch forth his scepter over a restored creation.

But not only does David set up the divine standard; he compares himself with it, and it is in this comparison we have the great moral and practical truth which I desire to fasten on my reader's heart. "Although," says David, "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." The only way to get a right view of ourselves is by looking at Christ. This is what David does in these last words. He weighs himself in a perfect balance, and declares himself light. He measures himself with a perfect rule, and confesses himself entirely defective. He gazes upon the perfect model, and exclaims, " I am not like that." He looks back over the past and sees the failings and the faults. He turns over page after page of life's checkered story, and his eye, enlightened by beams of light from the sanctuary, sees the blots and the blemishes. But, blessed be God, he can fall back upon "an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure," and, in that well ordered covenant, finds "all his salvation, and all his desire"

There is uncommon beauty and power in the connection between the " although" and the " yet" in the above passage. The former leaves a wide margin in which to insert the utterance of a convicted and chastened heart; the latter opens the floodgates to let in the full tide of divine mercy and loving kindness. "Although" puts man in the dust as a failing one; " yet" introduces God in all the fullness of His pardoning love. That is the language of a soul that has learned itself; this the breathing of a heart that had learned something about God.

Oh! beloved reader, is it not a signal mercy that, when we reach the close of our history, and review the past—when, as regards ourselves, we have only to say, " My house is not so with God," we shall then fully prove the eternal stability of that grace in which we have found "All our salvation, and all our desire?"

David's Three Attitudes

In the course of David's most eventful and deeply instructive history, we find him presented, by the pen of inspiration, in three remarkable attitudes, namely, lying as a penitent; sitting, as a worshipper; standing, as a servant. And not only do we see him in these attitudes, but we hear his utterances therein; and, we may truly say, the seeing and the hearing are full of deep moral instruction for our souls. May the Holy Spirit enable us to profit by it! May He guide our thoughts as we look at, and hearken to, King David, as a penitent, a worshipper, and a servant! And, first, then we have him Lying as a Penitent.

" And David fasted, and went in, and lay all night upon, the earth." (2 Sam. 12:16.) Here, then, we have David lying upon the earth, in the attitude of a true penitent. The arrow of conviction had entered his conscience. Nathan's pungent, pointed word, " Thou art the man," had fallen, with divine power, upon his heart, and he takes his place in the dust, conscience-smitten, and heart-broken, before God.

Such is the attitude. Let us now hearken to the utterance. This latter we shall find in the fifty-first Psalm. And oh! what an utterance it is! How fully in keeping with the attitude! " Have mercy upon me, Ο God, according to thy loving-kindness; according to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions." This is real work. The penitent places his sins side by side with the loving-kindness and tender mercy of God. This was the very best thing for him to do. The best place for a convicted conscience is the presence of divine mercy. "When a convicted sinner and divine love meet, there is a speedy settlement of the question of sin. It is the joy of God to pardon sin. He delights in mercy. Judgment is His strange work. He will cause us to feel the sinfulness of sin—to judge it—to hate it. He will never daub with untempered mortar, or cry peace, where there is no peace. He will send the arrow home. But, blessed be His name, the arrow from His quiver is sure to be followed by the love of His heart, and the wound which His arrow inflicts will be healed by the precious balm which His love ever applies. This is the order—"Thou art the man"—" I have sinned against the Lord"—" The Lord hath put away thy sin."

Yes, beloved reader, sin must be judged in the conscience, and the more thoroughly it is judged the better. We greatly dread a superficial work of conscience—a false peace. We like to see the conscience probed to its deepest depths, by the action of the Word and the Spirit of God—the grand question of sin and righteousness fully discussed, and finally settled in the heart. We have to bear in mind that Satan transforms himself into an angel of light, and, in this dangerous character, it is quite possible he may endeavor to lead souls into a kind of false peace and happiness, not founded upon the cross as the divine provision for the sinner's deepest necessities. We should deeply ponder those weighty words in the parable of the sower. " But he that received the seed into stony places, the same is he that heareth the word, and anon with Joy receiveth it: yet hath he no root in himself, but dureth for a while; for when tribulation or persecution ariseth because of the word, by and by he is offended." Matt. 13:20, 21.

Mark the words, "Anon, with joy receiveth it." There is no deep work of conscience—no moral judgment of self or of sin; and, as a consequence, no depth of root—no power of endurance. This is peculiarly solemn, and worthy of the most profound consideration, at the present moment. We cannot too carefully ponder the connection between the expressions, " Anon, with joy"—" No root"—" Withered away." There is great danger of a merely intellectual reception of the plan of salvation, apart from any spiritual work in the conscience. This is frequently attended with the most joyous emotions. The natural feelings are wrought upon, but the truth has not penetrated the heart; there has been no furrow made by the action of the word; and hence, when the time of trial comes, there is no power of continuance. It is found to be mere surface work, which cannot stand the action of the sun's scorching rays.

Now, let not the reader suppose that we attach undue importance to conscience-work in the matter of conversion. We are fully persuaded that it is the Christ we reach, and not the way we reach Him, that saves our souls; and moreover, the true foundation of the soul's peace is not a certain process or exercise of any kind, whether of the heart, the conscience, or the understanding. It is the divinely-efficacious sacrifice of the Son of God that purges the conscience and imparts peace to the convicted soul. It is the assurance, on God's authority, received by the grace of the Holy Ghost, that the momentous question of sin was settled, once and forever, on the cross, that liberates the soul and gives a peace which nothing can ever disturb.

All this is so plain that if any one were to say to us, u I have peace because I have passed through such deep exercises of conscience," we should, without hesitation, tell him he was self-deceived. It was not an exercise of conscience that ever satisfied the claims of God, and therefore it is not an exercise of conscience that can ever satisfy the earnest cravings of a convicted soul. Christ is all, and having Him, we want no more. We deem it a thorough mistake for persons to build anything on the mode of their conversion. It "is, in point of fact, affording the enemy an advantage over them, which he is sure to use in shaking their confidence. The ground of the believer's peace is not that he was converted in such and such a manner—that he felt so deeply, and wept so much, or struggled so hard, or prayed so fervently. All these things have their place and their value. We do not suppose that Paul ever forgot, or ever will forget, the moment between Jerusalem and Damascus; but we are perfectly sure he never built his peace upon the remarkable circumstances of his conversion. Luther could never forget his two years in the cloister, but Luther never built his peace upon the profound exercises of those' years. Bunyan could never forget the slough of despond; but Bunyan never built his peace upon the mental anguish which he tasted therein.

No doubt, the exercises through which these three remarkable men passed, exerted a very important influence on their after course and character, both as Christians and as ministers; but the ground of their peace was not aught that they had felt, or passed through, but simply what Christ had done for them on the cross. Thus it must ever be; Christ is all and in all. It is not Christ and a process, but Christ alone. Let souls ever remember this, and let it be well understood that, while we press upon our readers the immense importance of a deep and thorough work of conscience, we do not want them to build upon the work in their conscience, but upon Christ's work on the cross. " It is the work wrought for us, and not the work wrought in us, that saves our souls." True, they are intimately connected; and, therefore must not be separated; but they are perfectly distinct; and, therefore mast not be confounded. We can know nothing of the work wrought for us save by the work wrought in us; but just in proportion to the depth and intensity of the work wrought in us, will be the clearness and fixedness of our rest in the work wrought for us.

But there is another point in reference to which we are anxious to avoid misunderstanding. Some might suppose that the object of our remarks on David, as a penitent, is to prove that unless we have passed through precisely the same exercises, we have no just ground for believing that we are really regenerated. This would be a grave mistake. For, in the first place, David had been a child of God for many a day before that solemn moment on which we have been meditating. And, further, we believe that David found his relief not in any exercises within, but in communications from without, even the precious promises and assurances of God to his soul. He rested not on the fact that the arrow had entered his heart, in these words, " Thou art the man," and drawn forth the penitential cry, " I have sinned against the Lord." No; but upon the precious truth conveyed to him in the words, " The Lord hath put away thy sin."

Finally, let not a damp be cast upon any souls because the earliest moments of their spiritual history were characterized not by profound penitential exercises, but rather by the most peaceful and happy emotions. It is impossible that the "Glad tidings" of salvation can do aught else but gladden the believing soul. There was great joy in Samaria when Philip preached Christ to them and the eunuch went on his way rejoicing when he learned that Jesus had died for his sins. How could it be otherwise? How could any one believe in the forgiveness of sins and not be made happy by the belief? Impossible. "Glad tidings of great joy," must make the poor heart glad. " Forgiveness 'twas a joyful sound, To us when lost and doomed to die." Surely it was. But does this fact interfere, in the smallest degree, with the value of a deep and thorough work of the Spirit of God in the conscience? By no means. A hungry man values bread, and although he will not think of feeding upon the pangs of hunger, yet the pangs of hunger make him value the bread. So it is with the soul; it is not saved by penitential exercises; but the deeper its exercises, the more solid its grasp of Christ, and the more steady and vigorous its practical Christianity.

The simple fact, beloved reader, is this. We see, in the present day, a fearful amount of flippant, easy-going, airy Christianity, so called, which we greatly dread. We meet with many who seem to have attained a kind of false peace and frothy happiness, without any real exercise of conscience, or any application of the power of the cross to nature and its ways. These are stony-ground hearers. There is no root—no depth-~no power—no permanency. And not only are such persons self-deceived, but the tone and aspect of their profession are, amongst other influences, forming the channel along which the tide of infidelity shall, ere long, roll its poisonous and desolating waters. We believe that cold, uninfluential orthodoxy, and flippant, formal, airy profession are, just as thoroughly as dark and degrading superstition, paving the way for that infidelity which shall yet cast its mantle over the whole civilized world.

This is a deeply solemn thought; but we are impressed with it, and we dare not withhold it from our readers. We long to see a more effective testimony for Christ—a more earnest discipleship—a more thorough self-surrender and whole-hearted consecration to the name and cause of Christ. For this we sigh, for this we pray; and we certainly do not expect to find it amid the ranks of those who have never known much exercise of conscience, or tasted the power of the cross of Christ.

However, we must not anticipate a line of thought which may come before us as we proceed with our subject. We shall, with God's blessing, see in David, ere we close, a noble illustration of personal devotedness. Meanwhile, let us contemplate him in the second of his remarkable attitudes, namely, Sitting as a Worshipper.

In the opening of the seventh chapter of the second book of Samuel, we find David sitting in his house of cedar, and surveying the many and varied mercies with which the hand of Jehovah had surrounded him. " And it came to pass, when the king sat in his house, and the Lord had given him rest round about from all his enemies, that the king said unto Nathan the prophet, See now, I dwell in an house of cedar, but the ark of God dwelleth within curtains. And Nathan said to the king, Go, do all that is in thine heart: for the Lord is with thee."

In a word, David would build a house for God. But he was not the man, nor was his the time for that. Nathan is, at once, dispatched to correct the mistake. The service was well-meant; but that was not sufficient. It must be well-timed as well as well-meant. David had shed much blood; and, moreover, there were enemies and evil occur-rent. There were also deeper lessons of grace in which David had to be instructed. God had done much for him; but all that had been done, in the past, was as nothing compared with what was yet to be done in the future. If a house of cedar was a great thing, how much greater was an everlasting house and kingdom. The Lord telleth thee, that " he will make thee an house." This was reversing the matter altogether. The doings of the past were full of grace—the doings of the future would be full of glory. The hand of electing love had lifted David from the sheepcote to place him on the throne of Israel. " And this was yet a small thing in thy sight, Ο Lord God; but thou hast also spoken of thy servant's house for a great while to come." The past and the future are both brought, in brilliant array, before the vision of King David, and he has only to bow his head and worship.

" Then went King David in, and sat before the Lord, and he said, who am I, O Lord God?" Here then, we have David's second attitude. Instead of going out to build for the Lord, he went in and sat before the Lord. There is great moral beauty and power in this. To an unintelligent eye, he might have seemed to be in a very useless attitude; but, oh! we may rest assured of this, that no one can ever stand as a servant, who has not sat as a worshipper. We must have to do with the Lord, before we can act for the Lord. Show us a man who has really occupied the place of a worshipper, and we will show you one who, when he rises to his feet, will prove an effective servant.

And be it noted, it is one thing to sit before the Lord, and another thing to sit before our work—our service—our preaching—our circumstances—our experiences—our anything. How often are we tempted to sit down and gaze at, or think over, our various exploits, even though these may be ostensibly in the Lord's work? This is sure to super induce weakness. Nothing can be more miserable than self-occupation. It is right enough to feel thankful if the Lord has used us in any department of work; but oh! let us beware of keeping self before our eyes, in any shape or form, directly or indirectly. Let us not be found self-complacently surveying the various things in which we are engaged, the different interests we have set on foot, or the varied spheres of action in which we take part. All this tends to puff up nature, while it leaves the soul barren and impoverished.

Mark the difference! " Then went king David in and sat before the Lord, and said, who am If " " I " is sure to fall into obscurity and oblivion when we sit before the Lord. We hardly know which to admire most, the attitude or the utterance. "He sat," and said, "Who am I?" Both are lovely—both in exquisite moral order. May we know more of their deep, deep meaning and immense practical power! May we prove what it is to sit in the divine presence, and there lose sight of self and all its belongings!

We do not attempt to enter upon an exposition of the fifty-first Psalm which, as we have said, is David's utterance as a penitent,· nor yet of the seventh chapter of second Samuel, which gives us his utterance as a worshipper; we merely introduce these precious scripture to the notice of the reader, and pass on, in the third and last place, to look at David Standing as a Servant. " Then David the king stood up upon his feet." (1 Chron. 28:2 Ch, xxviii. 2.) This completes the picture of this lovely character. We have seen him lying on the earth, with the arrow of conviction piercing his conscience, and the chastening rod of God held over him. We have seen him seated in the sanctuary, surveying the actings of grace in the past, and anticipating the bright beams of glory in the future. And now we see him rising into the attitude of a real, true-hearted servant, to lay himself and his resources at Jehovah's feet. All is intensely real. The penitential cry—the aspirations of the worshipper—the accents of devotedness and consecration—all is deep, fervent and genuine. " I have prepared with all my might for the house of my God." " Moreover, because I have set my affection to the house of God." What self-forgetting devotedness is here! David was not to have the honor of building the house, but what was that to one who had found his place in the sanctuary, and learned to say, " Who am I?" It was all the same to David who was to build the house. It was the house of his God, and that was enough. The strength of his hand, the love of his heart, and the resources of his treasury were all willingly devoted to such an object.

We would fain pause here to expatiate; but we must close. May the Holy Ghost apply these things to our hearts, by His mighty power. Christian reader, dost thou not long for more whole-hearted devotedness? Dost thou not sigh after a more lofty consecration of thyself and all that thou hast to Christ and His cause in the earth? Well then, just get a little nearer to Him. Seek to be more in His presence. You have risen up from the attitude of a penitent, go, now, and sit, and gaze, and worship; and then, when the fitting occasion offers, you will be ready to occupy the position of an effective-servant.

Dead to the Law

" For I through law, am dead to law, that I might live to God"—(Gal. 2:19.) This is a weighty word, and much needed just now. The spiritual apprehension of the truth here set forth will preserve the soul from two errors which are very rife in the professing church, namely, legality, on the one hand, and licentiousness on the other. Were we to compare these two evils—were we compelled to choose between them, we should, undoubtedly, prefer the former. We should much rather see a man under the authority of the law of Moses, than one living in lawlessness and self-indulgence. Of course, we know that neither is right, and that Christianity gives us something quite different; but we have much more respect for a man who, seeing nothing beyond Moses, and regarding the law of Moses as the only divine standard by which his conduct is to be regulated, bows down, in a spirit of reverence to its authority—than for one who seeks to get rid of that law only that he may please himself. Thank God, the truth of the gospel gives us the divine remedy for both cases. But how? Does it teach us that the law is dead? Nay! What then? It teaches that the believer is dead. "I through law am dead to law." And to what end? That 1 may please myself? That I may seek my own profit and pleasure? By no means; but " that I may live to God."

Here lies the grand and all-important truth—a truth lying at the very base of the entire christian system, and without which we can have no just sense of what Christianity is at all. So also, in Rom. 7 we read, " Wherefore, my brethren, ye also have become dead to the law (not the law is dead) by the body of Christ, in order that ye may be to another (not to yourselves, but) even to him that was raised from the dead, that ye might bring forth fruit unto God." (v. 4.) And again, "But now ye are delivered from the law, being dead to that wherein ye were held, that ye might serve in newness of spirit and not in oldness of letter." (v. 6.) Mark, it is that we may serve, not that we may please ourselves. We have been delivered from the intolerable yoke of Moses, that we may wear the " easy yoke of Christ," and not that we may give a loose run to nature.

There is something perfectly shocking to a serious mind, in the thought of men appealing to certain principles of the gospel, in order to establish a plea for the indulgence of the flesh. They want to fling aside the authority of Moses, not that they may enjoy the authority of Christ, but merely to indulge self. But it is vain. It cannot be done with any shadow of truth, for it is never said in scripture that the law is dead or abrogated; but it is said, and urged repeatedly, that the believer is dead to the law, and dead to sin, in order that he may taste the sweetness of living unto God, of having his fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life.

We earnestly commend this weighty subject to the attention of the reader. He will find it fully unfolded in Rom. 4 and v., Gal. 3 and iv. A right understanding of it will solve a thousand difficulties, and answer a thousand questions; and, not only so, but deliver the soul from a vast mass of error and confusion. May God give His own word power over the heart and conscience!

Devotedness: What Is It? Part 1

(Read Gen. 22:1-12.)

It has often been said, " There are two sides to every question." This saying is true and very important. It demands special attention in approaching the subject which stands at the head of this paper. The history of the professing church affords many proof's of the fact that serious mischief has been done by devoted men who were not guided by sound principle. Indeed it will ever be found that, in proportion to the ardor of the devotedness, will be the gravity of the mischief, where the judgment is not wisely directed. We must confess we long for more true devotedness in ourselves and others. It does seem to us the special want in this our day. There is abundance of profession, and that, too, of a very high character. Knowledge is greatly increased amongst us, and we are thankful for knowledge; but knowledge is not energy—profession is not devotedness. It is not that we desire to set the one against the other; we want to combine the two. " God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."

Mark this lovely union—this exquisite entwining of a threefold cord—" Power, love, and a sound mind." Were it " power" alone, it might lead one to carry himself with a high hand—to push aside or crush any who could not come up to one's own mark—to cherish and manifest a spirit of haughty independence—to be intolerant of any contrariety ©f thought or feeling. On the other hand, were it a spirit of " love " only, it might induce an easy-going temper—a total indifference as to the claims of truth and holiness—a readiness to tolerate error for the sake of peace. But there is both love and power, the one to balance the other; and, moreover, there is the "sound mind" to adjust the two, and give to each its proper range and its just application. Such is the adjusting power of holy scripture for which we cannot be too thankful. We are so apt to be one-sided—to run into wild extremes—to run one principle to seed, while another, though equally important, is not even allowed to take root. One will be all for what he calls power; another, for what he calls love. Again, one will extol energy; another will only speak of the value of principle. We want both, and our God does most graciously supply both. A man who is all for principle may do nothing, through fear of doing wrong. A man who is all for power may do mischief through fear of doing nothing. But the man who is enabled, by grace, to combine the two, will do the right tiling, at the right time, and in the right way. This is what we want, and to meet, in some feeble way, this want is one special object of the following paper, to which may God most graciously attach the seal of His blessing.

Now, in handling our theme, it may help us, in the way of clearness and precision, to consider, first, the ground; secondly, the spirit; and, thirdly, the object of true devotedness. What, then, is The Ground of True Devotedness?

If we answer this question from the ample materials furnished by the history of Abraham, we must, without any hesitation, say, it is, simple faith in the living God. This is, this must be the solid ground of true, earnest, steady devotedness. If there be not the link of personal faith in God, we shall be driven hither and thither by every breath of human opinion, and tossed about by every ripple of the tide of circumstances. If we are not conscious of this living link between our souls and God, we shall never be able to stand at all, much less to make any headway in the path of real devotedness. " Without faith it is impossible to please God: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him." Heb. 11:6.

Here lies the secret. We must believe that He is, and what He is. We must have to do with God, in the secret of our own souls, apart from, and independent of all beside. Our individual connection with God must be a grand reality, a living fact, a real and unmistakable experience, lying at the very root of our existence, and forming the stay and prop of our souls, at all times, and under all circumstances. Mere opinions will not do; dogmas and creeds will not avail. It will not suffice to say with the lips, " I believe in God, the Father Almighty." Neither this nor any other form of mere words will do. It must be a heart question—a matter between the soul and God Himself. Nothing short of this can sustain the soul, at any time, but more particularly in a day like the present, in the which we find ourselves surrounded by so much that is hollow and superficial. Few things perhaps tend more to sap the foundations of the soul's confidence than a large amount of unreal profession. One may gather this, in some measure, from the fact that the finger of the infidel is continually pointed at the gross inconsistencies, exhibited in the lives of the teachers and professors of religion. And although it be true, that such inconsistencies, even were they multiplied ten thousand fold, will never shelter the infidel from the just consequences of his unbelief, inasmuch as each one must give account of himself, and for himself, before the judgment seat of Christ; yet it is a fact that unreal profession tends to shake confidence, and hence the urgent need of simple, earnest, personal faith in God—of unquestioning childlike confidence in His word—of constant artless dependence upon His wisdom, goodness, power, and faithfulness.

This is the anchor of the soul without which it will be impossible to ride securely in the midst of Christendom's troubled waters. If we are, in any way, propped up by our fellow, if we are leaning upon an arm of flesh, if we are deriving support from the countenance of a mortal, if our faith stands in the wisdom of man, or the best of men, if our fear toward God is taught by the precept of men, we may rest assured that all this will be tested and fully manifested. Nothing will stand but that faith that endures as seeing Him who is invisible—that looks not at the things that are seen and temporal, but at the things that are unseen and eternal.

How vividly all this was illustrated in the life of the father of the faithful, we may easily learn from the marvelous history of his life given by the pen of inspiration. "Abraham believed God." Observe: it was not something about God that he believed—some doctrine or opinion respecting God, received by tradition from man. No; this would never have availed for Abraham. It was with God Himself he had to do, in the profoundest depths of his own individual being. " The God of glory appeared unto our father Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran, and said unto him, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and come into the land which I shall show thee." Acts 7:2, 3.

These opening sentences of Stephen's powerful address to the Council, set forth the true secret of Abraham's entire career, from Ur of the Chaldees to Mount Moriah. It is not our purpose, here, to dwell upon the solemn and instructive interval at Charran; our desire is rather to set before the reader, as plainly and pointedly as we can, the unspeakable value, yea, the absolute necessity of faith in God, not only for life and salvation, but for anything like true devotedness of heart to Christ and His cause. True, that honored servant of God tarried at Charran, traveled down into Egypt, turned to Hagar, trembled at Gerar and denied his wife. All this appears upon the surface of his history, for he was but a man—even a man of like passions with ourselves. But " He believed God." Yes, from first to last, this remarkable man exercised, in the main, an unshaken confidence in the living God. He believed in that great truth that lies at the bottom of all truth, namely, that God is; and he believed also that God is a rewarder of all them that diligently seek Him. It was this that drew Abraham forth from Ur of the Chaldees—from the midst of all those ties and associations in the which he had lived and moved, and had his being. It was this that sustained him through all the vicissitudes of his pilgrim-course; and, finally, it was this that enabled him to stand on Mount Moriah, and there show himself ready to lay upon the altar that one who was not only the son of his bosom, but also the channel through which all the families of the earth were yet to be blessed. Nothing but faith could have enabled Abraham to turn his back upon the land of his birth, to go forth not knowing whither he went. To the men of his day he must have seemed to be a fool or a madman. But oh! he knew whom he believed. Here lay the source of his strength. He was not following cunningly devised fables. He, most assuredly, was not propped up by the circumstances or the influences which surrounded him. He was not supported by the countenance of man. Flesh and blood afforded him no aid in his wonderful career. God was his shield, his portion, and his reward, and in leaning on Him, he found the true secret of all his victory over the world, and of that calm and holy elevation which characterized him from first to last.

Reader, have you faith in God? Do you know Him? Is there a link between your soul and Him? Can you trust Him for everything? Are you, at this moment, consciously leaning upon Him—upon His word—upon His arm? Remember, if there is any darkness or hesitation as to this, devotedness is, and must be, out of the question. All steady devotedness rests upon the solid ground of personal faith in the living God. We cannot too strongly insist upon this, in a day of profession as wide-spread as it is shallow. It will not do to " say" we believe. There is far too much of this far too much head knowledge and lip profession—far too much of mere surface work. It is easy to say we believe; but as James puts it, " What doth it profit though a man say he have faith?" Faith is a divine reality, and not a mere human effort. It is based upon divine revelation and not upon the working of human reason. It connects the soul with God, with a living, mighty link, which nothing can ever snap. It bears the soul above and carries it on in triumph,, come what may. There may be failure and confusion, error and evil, coldness and deadness, strife and division, breaking down and turning aside, stumblings and inconsistencies—all manner of things to shake the confidence and stagger the soul; but faith holds on its peaceful, steady way, undaunted and undismayed; it leans on God alone and finds all its springs in Him. Nothing can touch the faithfulness of God, and nothing can shake the confidence of the heart that simply takes God at His word.

And, be it remembered, that faith is, in reality, taking God at His word. It is believing what God says, because-He says it. It is taking God's thoughts in place of our own. " He that believeth hath set to his seal that God is true." How simple! God has revealed Himself, faith walks in the light of that revelation. God has spoken; faith believes the word. But, if it be asked, " How has God revealed Himself? and where is His voice to be heard?" He has revealed Himself in the face of Jesus Christ; and His voice may be heard in His word. He has not, blessed be His name, left us in the darkness of night, nor even in the dimness of twilight; He has poured upon us the full flood-tide of His own eternal truth, in order that we may possess all the certainty, all the clearness,, all the authority, which a divine revelation can give.

Is it inquired," How can we know that God has spoken?" We reply, " How can we know the sun is shining?" Surely by the genial influence of his beams. How can we know that the dew has fallen? Surely by its refreshing influence upon the earth, if not by the luster of its pearly drops. So of the precious word of God. It speaks for itself. Do I want a philosopher to tell me the sun is shining, or the dewdrops falling? Assuredly not. I feel their influence. I own their power. No doubt a philosopher might explain to me the properties of light, and a chemist might instruct me as to the component parts of the dew. They might do all this for me, even though I had been born and reared in a coal-mine, and had never seen either the one or the other. But they could not make me feel their influence. So it is, in a divine way, as to the word of God. It makes itself felt—felt in the heart, felt in the conscience, felt in the deep chambers of the soul. True, it is by the power of the Holy Ghost; but, all the while, there is power in the word.

Let us remember this. Let no one imagine that God cannot speak to the heart, or that the heart cannot understand what He says, and feel the power of His word. Cannot a father speak to his child, and cannot the child understand his father? Yes, verily; and our heavenly' Father can speak to us—to our very hearts, and we can hear His voice, and know His mind, and lean upon His eternal word. And this is faith—simple, living, saving faith. Such a definition of faith might not satisfy a profound theologian; but that makes no difference. The heart does not need learned theological definitions. It wants God, and it has Him in His word. God has spoken. He has revealed Himself. He has come forth from the thick darkness, chased away the shades of twilight, and shone upon us in the face of Jesus Christ, and on the eternal page of holy scripture.

Reader, hast thou found Him? Dost thou really know Him by the revelation which He has given, and by the word which He has spoken? Is His word a reality to thee? Is it thy stay and support? Is it the real ground on which thou art resting for time and eternity? Do, we beseech thee, make sure work of it, at this moment. See to it. that thou hast a lively faith in God, and such a sense of the value, the importance, and the authority of His word, as that thou wouldest rather part with all beside than surrender it. It is, unquestionably, the only ground of devotedness. It is utterly impossible that a heart distracted and tossed about with unbelieving reasonings, can ever be truly devoted to Christ or His service. " He that cometh to God, must believe that he is." How simple! How plain! How could Abraham have left his country—how could he have run the race—how could he have given up everything and come forth as a stranger and a pilgrim, not having so much ground as to set his foot upon—how could he have stood upon Mount Moriah and stretched forth his hand for the knife to slay his son? How could he have done all or any of these things, if he had not had simple faith in the one living and true God? Impossible.

And so, in thy case, beloved reader, unless thou canst trust God—unless thou art sustained by the real power of naked faith in the word of the living God, thou wilt never be able to get on—nay, thou hast no life in thee. Truly we may say, " No faith no life." There may be high profession—there may be the semblance of devotedness; but if there be not a lively faith, there can be no spiritual life; and, if there be no life, there cannot be any true devotedness. " The just shall live by faith." They not only get life by faith, but live, day by day, and hour by hour, by faith. It is the spring of life and power to the soul, all the journey through. It connects the soul with God, and, by so doing, imparts steadiness, consistency, energy, and holy decision to the servant of Christ. If there be not the constant exercise of faith in God, there will be fluctuation and uncertainty. Work will be taken up, by fits and starts, instead of being the necessary result of calm abiding in Christ, by faith. There will be an occasional rush at some line of service which is merely taken up, for the time, and then coldly abandoned. The course, instead of being a steady, upward and onward one, will be zigzag and most unsatisfactory. At times, there will be a feverish excitement, and then again, deadness and indifference.

All this is the very reverse of true devotedness. It does serious damage to the cause of Christ. Better far never to start on the course at all, than, having started, to turn aside and give it up. "No man having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." True devotedness is based upon a pre found and earnest faith in God. It has its root deep down in the heart. It is not fitful or whimsical, but calm, consistent, decided, and steadily progressive. It may, at times, perhaps, when tried by the rule of a romantic and visionary enthusiasm, seem slow-paced; but, if it is slow, it is only because it will be sure; and the end will prove the difference between the energy of nature, and the actings of faith.

May God, by His Spirit, lead all His people into a truer and deeper sense of what devotedness really is. There is an energy abroad. The minds of men are active. Principles as well as passions are in action. Contending elements are at work underneath the surface of human life. Society is becoming, more and more, an unsettled thing. Men seem to be on the look out, as we say, for something. There is evidently a crisis at hand. Men are taking sides. The stage is being cleared for some grand act of the drama. What is needed, in view of all this? Unquestionably, a calm, deep, earnest faith in the word of God. This, we feel persuaded, is the only thing to keep the heart steady, come what may. Nothing will keep the soul in peace—nothing can give fixedness to the course—nothing can maintain us in the path of devotedness but the realization of that living link between the soul and God Himself, which, as being divine and eternal, must, of necessity, outlive all that is merely human and temporal.

(To be continued, if the Lord Will)

Devotedness: What Is It? Part 2

Having, in our paper for September, sought to lay down what we consider to be the essential ground of all true devotedness—namely, an earnest, personal faith in the living God—we shall now, in dependence upon divine guidance and teaching, proceed to consider, in the second place,

THE SPIRIT OF DEVOTEDNESS.

The two things are intimately connected, inasmuch as it is impossible for any one to have to do with God, in the realities of a life of faith, without having his heart drawn out in true worship, and we may say, at the outset, that the spirit of worship is, in very deed, the spirit that must ever characterize true devotedness. It is faith alone that gives God His proper place, and leaves the scene clear for Him to display Himself in His own proper glory. Hence it is that faith enjoys ten thousand occasions of realizing what God is to all who trust Him, and diligently seek Him,· and each fresh realization draws forth fresh strains of praise. Thus a lively faith ministers to a spirit of worship, and a spirit of worship is the vehicle through which to convey the experiences of a lively faith. The more we trust God, the more we shall know Him,· and the more we know Him, the more we must praise Him.

We have little idea of how much we lose by our want of simple confidence in God. Unbelief ever hinders the display of divine power and goodness. " He could there do not many mighty works because of their unbelief." This holds good in our individual history, every day. God will not show Himself if our unbelief fills the field of vision with other objects. It is impossible that God and the creature can occupy the same platform, or jointly form the ground of the soul's confidence. It must be God alone, from first to last. "My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation......Trust in him at all times." Such is the language of faith—" only and at all times." This is the ground—the solid and unassailable ground of true devotedness, and the soul that really occupies this ground will ever be clothed with a spirit of worship. Faith counts on God; God reveals Himself to faith; and faith responds in accents of praise and adoration. Nothing can be simpler, and nothing on earth more blessed. Faith can ever address God in the following words, " Lord, thou knowest me; we are on the same old terms." Blessed terms· May we understand them better!

There is nothing in all this world like having to do with God in the secret of our own souls, and in all the details of our personal history, day by day. It imparts a calmness not easily ruffled, a stability not easily moved, a holy independence of human thinkings and speakings, a moral elevation that lifts the soul above the reach of surrounding: influences. There is an atmosphere enwrapping this world—an atmosphere so dense, so murky, so depressing, that nothing but the eye of faith can pierce it; our own hearts, too, are full of unbelief, ever ready to depart from the living God, constantly sending up infidel reasonings from within, or hearkening to infidel suggestions from without, and therefore we do so greatly need to have the foundations of our personal confidence strengthened, so that our devotedness may be of a more decided type.

But in contemplating the spirit of devotedness as demonstrated in the life of Abraham, we must look somewhat closely at the facts of his instructive history, especially at those facts which immediately precede his call to Mount Moriah. For example, in chapter xx. we find him called to apply the sharp knife of self-judgment to an old root of evil which had found a lodgment in his heart for many a long day. This self-same root may teach the writer and the reader a deeply solemn and an eminently practical lesson.

When Abraham started on his career, we may notice two things, namely, first, that he was clogged and hindered by a natural tie; and, secondly, that he was secretly influenced by a root of moral evil. The natural tie was snapped at Charran, by the hand of death, and Abraham was set free, and enabled to get up to the place to the which God had called him. (Compare carefully Gen. 11:31, 32—xii. 1, with Acts 7:2-4.) He was told to get up out of his country and from his kindred, and come into the land of Canaan; but he brought some of his kindred with him, and stopped short at Charran. There his father died, and thereupon Abraham made his way to the true point of divine revelation.

The ties of nature, right enough, and really of God, in their proper place, are sure, if not kept in their place, to hinder true devotedness. It was all right and very beautiful in Elisha to love, with filial tenderness, his father and mother; but, when Elijah had flung around him the prophetic mantle, it was entirely below the mark of a deep-toned and genuine devotedness to say, " Let me, 1 pray thee, kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow thee." Natural ties are like honey, and we must beware of how much we eat, and when. Was ever filial love so tender as that which glowed in the bosom of the Man, Christ Jesus? Was ever subjection to parental authority so divinely perfect as His? And yet when the claims of service were to be responded to—when the integrity of true Nazariteship was to be maintained, He could say, " Woman, what have I to do with thee?" And again, " Who is my mother?" It was only the true an&. perfect servant who knew how to adjust conflicting claims, and keep each in its place, and hence from the same lips flowed forth the accents of faithful Nazariteship, at one time, and words of melting tenderness at another.

Abraham, then, was hindered in his course by the tie of nature, until that tie was dissolved by death; but the root of moral evil seems to have clung to him for a much longer period of time. What was that root? Alas! reader, it was one which we can only too well understand, namely, a little bit of unbelief, clothing itself in the form of prudent reserve, in reference to his relationship with Sarah.

"What!" it may be said, "unbelief in the heart of the father of the faithful!" Just so. It is a remarkable fact, illustrated in the history of the most eminent saints of God, that their most signal failure appears in the very thing for which they were signalized. Moses,, the meekest man in all the earth, spake unadvisedly with his lips. Job, the model of patience, opened his mouth, and cursed his day. Abraham, the father of the faithful, carried in his heart, for many a long day, and through many a changing scene, a root of unbelief. This root first sprouted in the land of Egypt, whither Abraham had gone to escape the famine that raged in the land of Canaan; and, as might be expected, the sprouting brought trouble on himself and others. "And it came to pass, when he was come near to enter into Egypt, that he said unto Sarai his wife, Behold now, I know that thou art a fair woman to look upon: therefore it shall come to pass, when the Egyptians shall see thee, that they shall say, This is his wife: and they will kill me, but they will save thee alive. Say, I pray thee, thou art my sister, that it may be well with me for thy sake; and my soul shall live because of thee."

Reader, remember, the Holy Ghost has penned this faithful record for our learning and admonition; and truly it is most solemn to think that such a man as Abraham could be so governed by the fear of personal danger as to expose the object of his heart's fond affections, and to deny his relationship to her. True, this conduct was the result of his being in a wrong position, for had he remained in the place to which God had called him, there would have been no need to deny his wife. But, as it generally happens, one wrong step led to another, and hence, having gone into Egypt through fear of the famine, he there denies his wife through fear of death.

" And the Lord plagued Pharaoh and his house with great plagues, because of Sarai, Abram's wife." What marvelous grace to Abraham! God, who ever delights to rebuke His people's fears, as well as to answer their faith, covered His erring servant with the shield of His powerful protection. Abraham's life and Sarah's virtue were both preserved in safety behind that impenetrable shield, and the house of Egypt's monarch was made to feel the heavy stroke of Jehovah's righteous rod. " And Pharaoh called Abram, and said, What is this that thou hast done unto me? why didst thou not tell me that she was thy wife? Why saidst thou, she is my sister? so I might have taken her to me to wife." Abraham had evidently exposed himself in all this matter, and hence, although God protects him, He yet allows Pharaoh to rebuke him.

It is well to see this. When the man of God steps off the path of faith and christian integrity, he, at once, exposes himself to the men of this world, and he need not marvel if they chastise him with an unsparing hand. Had Abraham remained in Canaan, he would not have been reproved by Pharaoh in Egypt. It is better far to starve, if it must be so, in the path of obedience, than gain abundance by the sacrifice of faith and moral uprightness. May we have grace to remember this at all times! It is easy enough to put these things down on paper; but when the moment of temptation arises, it is another thing. Still, we must remember that the Spirit of God has penned the history of Abraham for our profit, and it is well for us to ponder its holy lessons.

And, now, let us inquire, as to the effect produced in Abraham by Pharaoh's sharp reproof. Hid it prove effectual in delivering him from the root of evil which had called it forth? Alas! no. So far as the inspired history informs us, Abraham received the rebuke in silence, and went on his way; but he carried the root along with him to sprout again, after many days. He got back to Canaan, to His altar and to his tent; he displayed a noble disinterestedness with regard to Lot, and received a fresh revelation from God; he obtained a splendid victory over Chedorlaomer and his confederates, and refused the tempting offer of the king of Sodom; he was comforted by fresh assurances and promises from God, and manifested a child-like faith which was counted unto him for righteousness. In short, he passed through a variety of scenes and circumstances, with varied exercises of soul no doubt; but, all the while, the moral root, to which we are directing the reader's attention, remained unjudged and unconfessed. It had sprouted and produced its bitter fruit; hut, as yet, the sharp knife of self-judgment remained to be applied to it and it is not until we reach the twentieth chapter of Genesis that this root again appears above the surface, in the matter of Abimelech, King of Gerar. Here we have the same scene enacted over again, after years of rich experience of divine goodness and loving-kindness. The King of Egypt and his house had been brought into trouble before, and the King of Gerar and his house are brought into trouble now; for Jehovah reproved kings for Abraham's sake, though the kings had reason to reprove Abraham because of his ways.

" Then Abimelech called Abraham, and said unto him, What hast thou done unto us? and what have I offended thee, that thou hast brought on me and on my kingdom a great sin? thou hast done deeds unto me that ought not to be done. And Abimelech said unto Abraham, What sawest thou that thou hast done this thing?" This was bringing the matter to a point. There was no escaping such plain dealing, and therefore Abraham frankly opens his heart, and unlocks that secret chamber, which had been kept shut for so many years. He tells out all, and exposes every fiber of the root which had proved the source of so much trouble to himself and others. Let us hearken to the unreserved confession of this dear and honored man of God. " And Abraham said, because I thought, surely, the fear of God is not in this place; and they will slay me for my wife's sake. And yet indeed she is my sister; she is the daughter of my lather, but not the daughter of my mother; and she became my wife. And it came to pass when God caused me to wander from my father's house, that I said unto her, This is thy kindness which thou shalt show unto me, at every place whither we shall come, say of me, he is my brother."

Here was the root of the whole matter. And now why do we dwell upon it? Why seek to unfold it in such detail? Simply for the real, spiritual profit and moral health of the Christian reader. Have we not all our roots? Yes, verily, deep, strong, and bitter roots—roots which have been the source of a world of sorrow and shame to ourselves, and of trouble to those with whom we had to do. Well, then, these roots must be reached and judged, for so long as they remain unreached and unjudged, it is impossible—utterly impossible that we can reach the higher stages of the path of devotedness. Need we remind the reader that it is not, by any means, a question of life or salvation? Need we recall him to the thesis of our paper, which is simply this, " What is devotedness?" Our one grand object, just now, is to raise the tone of devotedness in the soul of every Christian who may scan these lines. But we know that devotedness, in order to be true, steady, and effective, must rest on the proper ground, and breathe the proper spirit. That ground is faith, and that spirit is worship; and though it be quite true that a soul may occupy, in the main, the ground of faith, and breathe a spirit of worship, while yet there are many roots in the heart unreached and unjudged, we are, nevertheless, fully persuaded that so long as there is any hidden root of evil in the heart, any chamber which we keep locked, and refuse to have properly lighted and ventilated, the higher stages of practical devotedness are yet beyond and above us.

God knows we do not want to depress the heart of the reader. Indeed, if our lines have aught of a depressing tendency, their effect should be realized first and most of all by the writer himself. But, no; we would fain encourage and exhort; and it is with a simple view to these desirable ends that we now turn directly to the reader, and put this plain and pointed question home to him, Hast thou any secret reserve in thy soul?—any hidden root of evil deep down in thy heart and mind?—is there aught that thou art keeping back from the action of the light and from the edge of the knife? Search, and see! Search diligently! Do not deceive thyself, nor let Satan deceive thee. Deal honestly and truly with thine own soul in this matter. Let no false application of the doctrines or principles of grace prevent thee from exercising a most rigid censorship over thy ways, and over thy character, and over thy heart with all its motive springs, and hidden chambers. Be assured of it, there is an urgent demand for real heart work on the part of all who long to tread the highest stages of the divine life. We live in a day which 13 earning for itself, in the judgment of every honest, and earnest spirit, the title of " A day of shams." Yes, reader, "sham" seems stamped upon all around, whether in the department of politics, commerce, or manufactures: and, most assuredly, much of the Christianity of the day forms no sort of exception to the rule. Hence the demand for reality on the part of the true Christian, and, unquestionably, all reality must find its source in the heart. If the heart be not right and real with God, we cannot be real is anything.

But there is another point to which we must refer, in the life of Abraham, ere we close this part of our subject. It is presented in the twenty-first of Genesis. The bondwoman and her son are cast out of the house. We do not dwell upon this point, but merely name it for the purpose of pointing out the deep moral conveyed to us in this portion of Abraham's history. The heart and the house had both to come under judgment, ere the call to Moriah fell on the patriarch's ear. God was about to call His beloved servant into the very highest position that man can occupy—to demand of him an expression of devotedness of the very highest order-to pass him through a crucible of the very highest degree of intensity; and, be it observed, that ere He did so, the root of moral evil had been reached in the heart, and the legal element had been expelled from the house. All this is deeply practical. God deals with moral realities. If we are to walk with Him, along the high and holy pathway of pure devotedness, the heart and the house must be duly regulated. If the real desire of our hearts be after a closer walk with God, we must see to it that we are not retaining anything within or about us that would not comport with that nearness. Our God is infinitely gracious, merciful, and patient. He can bear with us, and wait upon us, in marvelous tenderness; but, at the same time, we have to remember that we forfeit present blessing and future reward through our lack of earnest devotedness. There is nothing of legality in this, it is but the just application of the principle of grace in which we stand.

"And it came to pass that God did tempt Abraham." Why is it we never read such words as these, " It came to pass that God did tempt Lot?" Alas! Lot was never in a moral condition to warrant his being so highly honored. Sodom tempted Lot; but it was no temptation at all to Abraham. What a contrast between Lot in the cave, and Abraham on Mount Moriah! And yet they were both saved. But, ah! what a poor thing to be content to be saved! Ought we not to sigh after those spiritual heights which lie beyond? Should we not long to give expression to a more ardent devotedness? Oh! that our houses and our hearts were in a moral condition acceptable in the sight of God, so that we might enjoy habitual nearness to Himself, and unbroken communion with Him. This is our privilege, and we should never be satisfied with anything less.

It was a high honor conferred upon Abraham when God called him into the place of trial—when He asked him for " his son, his only son Isaac." It was an elevated point in the patriarch's career, and that he felt it to be such we may judge from the spirit in which he responded to the divine call, and in which he repaired to the scene of sacrifice. " I and the lad will go yonder and worship." Here the true spirit of devotedness most blessedly unfolds itself. To give up his only son—the object of his affections- the channel of all God's promises—to lay this one as a victim on the altar—to see him consumed to ashes -what was it all? Just an act of worship. This was real work indeed. It was no empty lip profession—no saying, " I go, sir," and yet not going at all. " Abraham believed God." Here lay the secret of it all. He had learned to yield an unquestioning credence and an implicit obedience to the word of the Lord, and therefore when called to lay his Isaac upon the altar—that Isaac for whom he had longed and waited and trusted—when called to yield him as a sacrifice, he bows his head, and says, " I and the lad will go yonder and worship."

Thank God, that there ever lived such a man as Abraham—that there was ever enacted such a scene as that upon Mount Moriah—and that we have so vividly and forcibly presented to our hearts, the ground and the spirit of true devotedness!

(To he continued, if the Lord, will.)

Devotedness: What Is It? Part 3

The more we ponder the question which has been occupying our attention, namely, What is devotedness? the more we are convinced of its immense practical importance. It puts the soul in immediate contact with the Lord Himself, and opens a path, for each one, along which he can move in calm and steady confidence, let his surroundings be what they may.

But just in proportion to the importance of the subject of devotedness is the need of clearness as to the true ground, spirit, and object thereof. We have already sought to present to the reader, the truth as to the first two points; and it now only remains to dwell, for a little, in the third place, on The Object or Devotedness.

How much hangs on the answer which the heart gives to this question, " What is my object in life?" It is, undoubtedly, one of the very gravest questions which anyone can put to himself. It is the object which stamps the character. Let us remember this. What was it that gave character to Abraham's journey to Moriah, and to his actings when he arrived there? What was it that drew the attention of heaven to the scene? Was it the mere fact that a father was going to offer up his son as a sacrifice? Nay; thousands of fathers have done that. Thousands of sons have been sacrificed on the altars of false gods, and that, too, in so-called devotedness. But what was it that distinguished the act of the father of the faithful? It was this—let us hear it and mark it with the heart's deepest attention—"Now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, from me." (Gen. 22:12.) Here, we have Abraham's object, and on this point let us meditate for a few moments.

The heart may propose to itself a thousand objects, and these objects may be good enough in themselves, and yet not one of them be the object which characterizes christian devotedness. We once knew a man who prayed for seven hours a day. We have seen him on his knees at four o'clock in the morning; and, after the toils of the day, we have seen him on his knees again—till the midnight hour. We have seen him in agonies of devotion. His flesh was worn from his bones by constant kneeling. He was, withal, a blameless, amiable man. Those who marked the course of his daily life could not put their finger on a single moral blemish in his conduct as a man. And yet when we have approached that man in order to whisper into his ear some word about Christ, he has shrunk from us and refused to listen. In a word, he was devoted to his religion; but he hated Christ.

Again, a man may devote himself to philanthropy; he may devote his life and his fortune to the objects of benevolence, and make the most splendid sacrifices in order to carry out his schemes: he may fix the wondering gaze of millions upon his career, and, all the while, be a total stranger to Christ.

But, further, a man may devote himself to what may seem to be the work of the Lord; he may seem to be a laborious student of Scripture; an active, earnest, self-denying evangelist; he may go forth to the fields of foreign mission, leaving his country, his kindred, and his home, in devotion to his work; he may do all this, and much more, and yet not exhibit one atom of true christian devotedness, simply because Christ was not his object in all that in which he was engaged.

All this is deeply solemn. We may be religious, devotional, benevolent, active in the Lord's work, in all its departments, whether as evangelists, pastors, or teachers, and yet not have Christ before our souls at all. A man may start in a work which, to all outward appearance, seems a real work of God, and he may seem to be most simple in his devotion to that work, and, yet, it may tarn out in the end that his heart was engrossed with the work to the total exclusion of Christ as an object. True christian devotedness is embodied in this brief sentence, " To me, to live is Christ." He does not say, "To me to live is work'—though where was there ever such a workman, save the perfect Workman? He does not say, "To me to live is religion, or benevolence, or morality," though who more religious, benevolent, or moral, than Paul. It is not that he loved these things less, but he loved Christ more. This makes all the difference. I may wear myself out with religious exercises, such as prayers, fastings, and vigils; I may bestow all my goods to feed the poor; I may give my body to be burnt, and there may not be in all these things one particle of genuine devotedness to Christ.

Is not this a very weighty consideration in this day of religious activity, forms of piety, and schemes of benevolence? Should we not, dear christian reader, look well to the question as to what is our real object? Is it not too true that one may spend a whole life in the exercise of religion and philanthropy, and yet live and die a stranger to that One who is God's only object, heaven's only center -Christ Jesus? Alas! the truth of this is illustrated in the history of millions. The god of this world is blinding the minds of countless multitudes. And with what docs he most effectually blind them? With schemes of benevolence and forms of piety. Oh! Christendom, Christendom, hear it—thy formularies, thy forms, and thy schemes are blinding the minds, hardening the hearts, and searing the consciences, of untold millions.

It is not merely amid the haunts of vice, in all its abominable forms, that God's faithful messengers are called to raise a warning voice, but on the broad and well-trodden highway of religious profession, along which multitudes are rushing to eternal perdition. The devil's grand object is to keep Christ out of the heart, and he cares not by what means lie attains this object. He will use a man's lusts, or he will use his superstitious fears. Forms of vice and forms of piety are all alike to him. He hates Christ, and will seek by all means, to keep souls away from Him. He will let a man he religious, benevolent, amiable, moral; hut he will not, if he can help it, let him be a Christian; and when any one has, through grace, become a Christian in reality, Satan's one aim is to draw his heart and turn his eye away from Christ. He will seek to engage him with objects professedly christian, in order to divert him from the only object that really forms the Christian -Christ Himself. He will give him lots of work to do, yea, he will overwhelm him with work, and get him a name as a most wonderful workman; and yet, by means of this very work, he will sap the foundation of a man's Christianity, and so deceive and pervert his heart that, in process of time, he will become occupied with himself and his doings, instead of with Christ and His service.

Hence the importance of having the one object ever before the heart, and that object Christ. " To me to live is Christ." " Thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me." Christ is the great standard for every one and everything. All must be measured by Him. Everything is to be regulated and valued with reference to Him. The question is not, how much work am I doing? but to whom is it done? Searching question! u Then shall the king say unto them on his right hand, Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me......inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." (Matt. 25:34-40.)

Here lies the secret of all acceptable service, and all true devotedness. We may feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit, the sick, but if the King cannot say, " Ye did it unto me," it will be valueless.

And oh! what a privilege to be allowed to do any little thing for Christ! To be enabled to have Him ever before the heart. It is this which gives real value and true elevation to all that we may be called to do, in this world, whether it be sweeping a crossing or evangelizing a nation. Christian service is that which is done to Christ. Nothing else deserves the name; nothing else will be so esteemed in God's account; nothing else will pass as genuine metal through the fire of that great testing day which is rapidly approaching. All the thoughts of God center round Jesus. It is His eternal purpose to exalt and glorify that Name. The whole universe will yet be called upon to find in Jesus its central sun. The beams of His glory shall, ere long, shine forth over the whole creation.

Thus it will be, by and by; and now the Christian is called to anticipate that day, and to make Jesus his one absorbing, commanding object, in all things. If he gives an alms, it is to be in the name of Jesus j if he preaches the gospel for the conversion and gathering of souls, it is to be with his eye fixed directly upon Jesus, and for the glory of His Name. Will this contract the sphere or measure of his benevolence? Will it lessen his interest in the work of evangelization? Quite the reverse; it will greatly enlarge the former, and intensify the latter; and while it does all this, it will elevate the tone of his spirit in the work, and impart stability to all his service, inasmuch as it will ever keep his heart and mind occupied with the very highest object, even Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.

I may enter upon a certain line of work, under the influence of excitement, or in imitation of others, or to get a name for myself, from all manner of motives. I may work with an energy and zeal which puts others to shame. I may be greatly looked up to, get a great name among my fellows; be puffed, flattered, and applauded; my name may appear as a celebrity in all the religious journals of the day, and, after all the Lord may not be able to say, as to a single act of all my service, " You did it unto me."

On the other hand, a man may pursue a path of quiet, unobtrusive, unostentatious service, unknown and unnoticed, and not wishing to be noticed; the stream of his benevolence may flow copiously, unknown to all save those who are refreshed by its influence, and, for the most part, not even by them. The lanes, the alleys, the courtyards, the prisons, the hospitals, are visited; the widows tear is; dried, her sorrow soothed, her wants supplied; the orphan is thought of; the sons and daughters of toil and misery are looked after; the precious tidings of salvation are sounded in many a garret; the gospel tract slipped into many a hand; and all the while, little is heard or known, down here, of the doer of these precious, these most fragrant acts of service and self-sacrifice. But! the odor goes up to the throne—the record is above—it is all engraved on the Masters heart. He remembers it all and will bring it all out in due time, and that, too, after such a fashion that the doer would not recognize his own work.

Who knew what was in Abraham's heart, when he started on that marvelous journey to Moriah—a journey which has only been exceeded in marvelous mystery by that from Gethsemane to Calvary? Who knew what he was going to do? Who would ever have known it, if the Holy Ghost had not recorded it on the eternal page of inspiration? "I and the lad will go yonder and worship."'- " They went both of them together."—" Thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me." Abraham was engrossed with God Himself, from first to last. From the moment he rose from his couch on that memorable morning, until he stretched forth his hand to take the knife, his soul was absorbed with the living God. It was this that gave holy elevation to the entire scene. It was done to God.

Thus it is always. Whatever is done to Christ will be remembered and rewarded; whatever is not will sink into eternal oblivion, or be burnt up in judgment. It is not the quantity but the quality of the work that will be tried and made manifest before the judgment-seat of Christ. Look at the parable of the laborers in Matt. 20 What a seasonable lesson does that parable read out to our hearts! The laborers who were first hired, were the only ones with whom an agreement was made; all the rest worked in the confidence that their Master would give them what was right. If any of the first set of laborers had been asked, during the day, " What arc you to get as a reward for your work?" They would have said, "A penny." They were working for a penny. But if any of the others had been asked the same question, they would have said, "I don't know; but I am sure the Master will do what is right."

This makes all the difference. The moment I work for reward, it ceases to be christian service. It is not that christian service will not be rewarded: it most assuredly will; but just so far as it is christian service, will it be rendered apart from all thought of reward. "The love of Christ," not the hope of reward, " constraineth us." Why did the wicked and slothful servant hide his talent in the earth? Because he did not know his Lord. Had he known Him, he would have loved Him, and served Him for love's sake, which is the only service that Christ values.

It was, we may rest assured, joy to Abraham's soul to have a son to lay on the altar of God. And so with the true Christian now; it is his joy to be permitted to render any little service to that Lord whom he loves supremely. Nor will it be a question with him as to the kind of service, or the sphere in which it is to be rendered, or the amount of the work; it is enough for him if his Lord can say, " You did it unto me." " Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me." It does not matter in the least what we are doing, provided only it be done directly to Christ, with the eye fixed on Him, and the heart filled with Him. It is this that imparts value to every little act of service; and if there he one thing more than another which the heart longs for, it is the ability to do all one's work, of what kind soever it be, with a single eye to Christ.

But ah! the heart is so treacherous and so prone to admit mixed motives. We are apt to attach importance and interest to things because of our connection with them, to engage in service for service' sake, to be more occupied with our work than with the Master. May we have grace ever to remember that all that is not done directly to the Lord Himself is absolutely worthless, however showy it may be in the eyes of man; and, on the other hand, that the smallest thing done in love to Jesus, and in singleness of heart to Him, will never be forgotten.

It would be truly pleasant to the heart to dwell a little longer on this blessed theme; but we must close, and, ere we do so, we would desire to leave with the reader this one solemn question, namely, " What is your real object?" We feel the weight of this question, and we look to the Spirit of God to give it weight in the heart and conscience of the reader.

To every one who can say, in calm confidence, and spiritual intelligence, " I am saved," the next grand point is, to be able to say, " Christ is my object—to me to live is Christ." Alas, how few of us can say it! We stop short. We are occupied with our salvation, our peace and blessing, our comfort and liberty; or it may be we are taken up with our service, we get into some machinery of work. In a word, it is not Christ—it is not abiding in Him, feeding on Him, and acting for Him. It is really self, and this is downright misery. We should never rest satisfied with anything short of having Jesus as a covering for our eyes and an object for our hearts. This would, in very deed, be to understand experimentally, the ground, the spirit, and the object of true devotedness.

The Divine Anathema

" If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha." 1 Cor. 16:22.

The position which this solemn anathema occupies is truly remarkable. In the course of his lengthened epistle, the apostle had to rebuke and correct many practical evils, and doctrinal errors. There were divisions amongst the Corinthians. They were puffed up for one against another. There was fornication amongst them. They went to law one with another. There was gross disorder at the Lord's Supper. Some of them called in question the grand foundation truth of the resurrection of the dead.

These were grave errors and formidable evils-errors and evils which called forth the sharp and stern reproof of the inspired apostle. But, be it carefully noted, that when, at the close, he pronounces his solemn " Anathema Maranatha," it is not directed against those who had introduced the errors or practiced the evils, but against " any man who loves not the Lord Jesus Christ." This, surely, is well worthy of serious thought. The only security against all manner of error and evil is genuine love to the Lord Jesus Christ. A man may be so strictly moral, as that no one could put

The word "Anathema" signifies anything devoted to death; and " Maranatha " signifies the Lord cometh to judgment. His finger upon a single blot in his character-a single stain in his reputation, and, underneath that strict morality, there may be a heart as cold as ice, so far as the Lord Jesus is concerned. Again, a man may be so marked by a spirit of noble benevolence, that his influence is felt throughout the entire sphere in which he moves; and, all the while, his heart may not have a single pulsation of love to Christ. Finally, a man may possess, in the region of his understanding, a perfectly orthodox creed, and he may be devotedly attached to the ordinances and observances of traditionary religion, and be wholly without affection for the adorable Person of the Lord Jesus Christ. It may even happen that all these things, namely, lofty morality, noble benevolence, sound orthodoxy, and devoted attachment to religious forms, exist in one and the same individual, and that individual be wholly void of a single spark of genuine affection for the Lord Jesus Christ, and, as a solemn and startling consequence, stand exposed to the burning Anathema of God the Holy Ghost. I may be moral, through love to self. I may be benevolent through love to my fellow. I may be orthodox, through a love of dogmas. I may be religious, through a love of sect. But none of these things can shield me from the merited judgment which is denounced by the Holy Ghost against "any man" no matter who or what, who " loves not the Lord Jesus Christ."

This is a deeply solemn and most seasonable word for the present moment. Let the reader deeply ponder it. Let him remember that the only basis for true morality-the only basis for genuine benevolence-the only basis for divine orthodoxy-the only basis for " pure religion" is love to the Lord Jesus Christ, and where this love exists not, all is cold, sterile, and worthless-all exposed to death and judgment by the " Anathema Maranatha " of the Holy Ghost. If the heart be really touched with the vital spark of love to Jesus, then every effort after pure morality, every struggle against our hateful lusts, passions, and tempers, every opening of the hand of genuine benevolence, every sound and truthful principle, every act of devotion, every pious aspiration, every fervent breathing, every outgoing of the soul, is precious to the Father-precious to the Son-precious to the Holy Ghost-all is fragrant with the perfume of that dear Name which is the theme of heaven's wonder- the center of heaven's joy, the object of heaven's worship.

And, my beloved reader, should we not " love the Lord Jesus Christ? " Should we not hold Him dearer to our heart than all beside? Should we not be ready to surrender all for Him? Should not our bosoms swell with emotions of sincere attachment to His Person, in heaven, and His cause on earth? How could we trace Him from the bosom of the Father to the manger of Bethlehem- from the manger of Bethlehem to the cross of Calvary- and from the cross of Calvary to the throne of the majesty in the heavens-how could we "consider" Him as "the Apostle and High Priest of our profession," and not have our whole moral being brought under the mighty constraining influence of His love?

May the Holy Ghost so unfold to our souls His matchless glories and peerless excellencies, that we may " count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord.''

" Jesus, I love thy charming name;

'Tis music to mine ear,

Fain would I sound it out so loud,

That earth and heaven should hear.

Yes, thou art precious to my soul,

My transport and my trust:

Jewels to thee are gaudy toys,

And gold is sordid dust.

All my capacious powers can wish,

In thee doth richly meet:

Nor, to mine eyes, is light so dear,

Νor friendship half so sweet.

Thy grace still dwells upon my heart,

And sheds its fragrance there;

The noblest balm of all its wounds,

The cordial of its care."

An Earnest Appeal

Christian reader, I feel constrained to make an earnest appeal to your heart and conscience, in the presence of Him to whom you and I are responsible, and to whom our hearts and ways are fully known. I do not mean to judge you, or speak invidiously to you. Neither do I wish to write in a bitter or complaining spirit. I only desire to stir up your pure mind-to wake up the energies of your new nature- to exhort and encourage you to a more earnest zeal and whole-hearted devotedness, in the service of Christ.

The present is a deeply solemn moment. The day of God's long-suffering is rapidly drawing to a close. The day of wrath is at hand. The wheels of divine government are moving onward with a rapidity truly soul-subduing. Human affairs are working to a point. There is an awful crisis approaching. Immortal souls are rushing forward along the surface of the stream of time into the boundless ocean of eternity. In a word, the end of all things is at hand. " The days are at hand, and the effect of every vision."

Now, my reader, seeing these things are so, let us ask each other, how are we effected thereby? What are we doing in the midst of the scene which surrounds us? How are we discharging our fourfold responsibility, namely, our responsibility to God, our responsibility to the church, our responsibility to perishing sinners, our responsibility to our own souls? This is a weighty question. Let us take it into the presence of God, and there survey it in all its magnitude. Are we really doing all we might do for the advancement of the cause of Christ, the prosperity of His church, the progress of His Gospel? I candidly confess to you, my friend, that I very much fear we are not making a right use of all the grace, the light, and the knowledge which our God has graciously imparted to us. I fear we are not faithfully and diligently trading with our talents, or occupying till the Master return. It often occurs to me that people with far less knowledge, far less profession, are far more practical, more fruitful in good works, more honored in the conversion of precious souls, more generally used of God. How is this? Are you and I sufficiently self-emptied, sufficiently prayerful, sufficiently single-eyed?

You may, perhaps, reply, "It is a poor thing to be occupied with ourselves, our ways, or our works." Yes; but if our ways and our works are not what they ought to be, we must be occupied with them-we must judge them. The Lord, by his prophet Haggai, called upon the Jews of old, to "consider their ways;" and the Lord Jesus said to each of the seven churches, " I know thy works." There is a great danger of resting satisfied with our knowledge, our principles, our position, while at the same time, we are walking in a carnal, worldly, self-indulgent, careless spirit. The end of this will, assuredly, be terrible. Let us consider these things. May the apostolic admonition fall, with divine power, on our hearts, " Look to yourselves, that we lose not those things which we have wrought, but that we receive a full reward." (2 John 1:8)

A Few Comments on Epaphroditus

We want the reader to turn with us for a few moments to Philippians 2, and study the brief sketch of the interesting character of Epaphroditus. There is a great moral beauty in it. We are not told very much about him, but, in what we are told, we see a great deal of what is truly lovely and pleasant—much that makes us long for men of the same stamp in this our day. We cannot do better than quote the inspired record concerning him; and may the Holy Spirit apply it to our hearts, and lead us to cultivate the same lovely grace which shone so brightly in that dear and honored servant of Christ!

"I supposed it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother, and companion in labor, and fellow soldier, but your messenger, and he that ministered to my wants. For he longed after you all, and was full of heaviness, because that ye had heard that he had been sick. For indeed he was sick nigh unto death: but God had mercy on him; and not on him only, but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow. I sent him therefore the more carefully, that, when ye see him again, ye may rejoice, and that I may be the less sorrowful. Receive him therefore in the Lord with all gladness; and hold such in reputation: because for the work of Christ he was nigh unto death, not regarding his life, to supply your lack of service toward me." Phil. 2:25-30.

Now it is quite possible that some of us, on reading the above, may feel disposed to inquire if Epaphroditus was a great evangelist or teacher, or some highly gifted servant of Christ, seeing that the inspired Apostle bestows upon him so many high and honorable titles, styling him his "brother, and companion in labor, and fellow soldier."

We are not told that he was a great preacher, or a great traveler, or a profound teacher in the Church of God. All we are told about him, in the above touching narrative, is that he came forward in a time of real need to supply a missing link, to "stop a gap," as we say. The beloved Philippians had it upon their hearts to send help to the revered and aged Apostle in his prison at Rome. He was in need, and they longed to supply his need. They loved him, and God had laid it upon their loving hearts to communicate with his necessities. They thought of him, though he was far away from them; and they longed to minister to him of their substance.

How lovely was this! How grateful to the heart of Christ! Hearken to the glowing terms in which the dear old prisoner speaks of their precious ministry. "But I rejoiced in the Lord greatly, that now at the last your care of me hath flourished again; wherein ye were also careful, but ye lacked opportunity.... Notwithstanding, ye have well done, that ye did communicate with my affliction. Now ye Philippians know also, that in the beginning of the gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no church communicated with me as concerning giving and receiving, but ye only. For even in Thessalonica ye sent once and again unto my necessity. Not because I desire a gift: but I desire fruit that may abound to your account. But I have all and abound; I am full, having received of Epaphroditus the things which were sent from you, an odor of a sweet smell, a sacrifice acceptable, well-pleasing to God." Phil. 4:10-18.

Herein we see the place which Epaphroditus filled in this blessed business. There lay the beloved Apostle in his prison at Rome, and there lay the loving offering of the saints at Philippi. But how was it to be conveyed to him? These were not the days of bank checks or of railway travel. It was no easy matter to get from Philippi to Rome in those days. But Epaphroditus, that dear, unpretending, self-surrendering servant of Christ, presented himself to supply the missing link—to do just the very thing that was needed, and nothing more-to be the channel of communication between the assembly at Philippi and the Apostle at Rome. Deep and real as was the Apostle's need, precious and seasonable as was the Philippians' gift, yet an instrument was needed to bring them both together, and to apply the latter to the former; and Epaphroditus offered himself for the work. There was a manifest need, and he met it—a positive blank, and he filled it. He did not aim at doing some great showy thing, something which would make him very prominent, and cause his name to be blazed abroad as some wonderful person. Ah no! Epaphroditus was not one of the pushing, self-confident, extensive class. He was a dear, self-hiding lowly servant of Christ, one of that class of workmen to whom we are irresistibly attracted. Nothing is more charming than an unpretending, retiring man who is content just to fill the empty niche—to render the needed service, whatever it is—to do the work cut out for him by the Master's hand.

There are some who are not content unless they are at the head and tail of everything. They seem to think that no work can be rightly done unless they have a hand in it. They are not satisfied to supply a missing link. How repulsive are all such! How we retire from them! Self-confident, self-sufficient, ever pushing themselves into prominence. They have never measured themselves in the presence of God, never been broken down before Him, never taken their true place of self-abasement.

Epaphroditus was not of this class at all. He put his life in his hands to serve other people; and when at death's door, instead of being occupied with himself or his ailments, he was thinking of others. "He longed after you all, and was full of heaviness"—not because he was sick, but—"because that ye had heard that he had been sick." Here was true love. He knew what his beloved brethren at Philippi would be feeling when informed of his serious illness—an illness brought on by his willing-hearted service to them.

All this is morally lovely. It does the heart good to contemplate this exquisite picture. Epaphroditus had evidently studied in the school of Christ. He had sat at the Master's feet and drunk deeply into His spirit. In no other way could he have learned such holy lessons of self-surrender and thoughtful love for others. The world knows nothing of such things; nature cannot teach such lessons. They are altogether heavenly, spiritual, divine. Would that we knew more of them! They are rare among us, with all our high profession. There is a most humiliating amount of selfishness in all of us, and it does look hideous in connection with the name of Jesus. It might comport well enough with Judaism, but its inconsistency with Christianity is terribly glaring.

But we must close. Ere we do so, we shall just notice the very touching manner in which the inspired Apostle commends Epaphroditus to the assembly at Philippi. It seems as if he could not make enough of him, to speak after the manner of men. "He longed after you all, and was full of heaviness, because that ye had heard that he had been sick. For indeed he was sick nigh unto death: but God had mercy on him; and not on him only, but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow." How deeply affecting! What a tide of divine affection and sympathy rode in upon that unpretending, self-sacrificing servant of Christ! The whole assembly at Philippi, the blessed Apostle, and above all, God Himself, all engaged in thinking about a man who did not think about himself. Had Epaphroditus been a self-seeker, had he been occupied about himself or his interests, or even his work, his name would never have shone on the page of inspiration. But no; he thought of others, not of himself; and therefore God, and His Apostle, and His Church thought of him.

Thus it will ever be. A man who thinks much of himself saves others the trouble of thinking about him; but the lowly, the humble, the modest, the unpretending, the retiring, the self-emptied who think and live for others, who walk in the footsteps of Jesus Christ, these are the persons to be thought of and cared for, loved and honored, as they ever will be, by God and His people.

"I sent him therefore the more carefully," says the beloved Apostle, "that, when ye see him again, ye may rejoice, and that I may be the less sorrowful. Receive him therefore in the Lord with all gladness; and hold such in reputation: because for the work of Christ he was nigh unto death, not regarding his life, to supply your lack of service toward me."

Thus it was with this most dear and honored servant of Christ. He did not regard his life, but laid it at his Master's feet, just to supply the missing link between the church of God at Philippi, and the suffering and needy Apostle at Rome. And hence the Apostle calls upon the Church to hold him in reputation, and the honored name of Epaphroditus has been handed down to us by the pen of inspiration, and his precious service has been recorded, and the record of it read by untold millions, while the name and doings of the self-seekers, the self-important, the pretentious, of every age, and every clime, and every condition, are sunk—and deservedly so—in oblivion.

Exhortation

There are few things less understood than the real nature of exhortation. We are apt to attach an idea of legal effort to that word which is quite foreign to it. Divine exhortation, always assumes that a certain relationship exists, that a certain standing is enjoyed, that certain privileges are apprehended. The Spirit never exhorts save on a divine basis. For example. " I beseech you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God." (Romans 7:1.) Here we have a fine instance of divine exhortation. " The mercies of God" are first put before us, in all their fullness, brightness, and preciousness, ere we are called to hear the voice of exhortation.

Again, " Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption." (Eph. 4:30.) Here we are exhorted on the settled ground of our being " sealed." He does not say, " Grieve not the Spirit, lest ye be eternally lost." Such would not be in keeping with the true character of divine exhortation. We " are sealed,'' not so long as we behave ourselves, but " until the day of redemption." It is absolutely done, and this is the powerful reason why we are not to grieve the Holy Spirit. If that which is the eternal seal of God, set upon us until the day of redemption, be the Holy Spirit, how careful should we be not to grieve Him.

Again, " Since ye then are risen with Christ, seek those things which are above." (Col. 3:1.) As those who are risen, what should we seek but " things above?" We do not seek these things in order to be risen, but because we are. In other words, the solid basis of our standing is laid down, by the Spirit of grace, before ever the voice of exhortation falls on the ear. This is divine. Aught else would be mere legality. To call upon a man to set his affections upon things above, before he knows, upon divine authority, that he is " risen with Christ," is to begin at the wrong end, and to lose your labor. It is only when I believe that precious emancipating truth that when Christ died, I died; when He was buried, I was buried; when He rose, I rose; it is only when this grand reality takes possession of my soul that I can lend an open ear, and an understanding heart to exhortation's heavenly voice.

It is well for my reader to understand this thoroughly. There is no need whatever for a multitude of words. Let him simply take his New Testament, and beginning with the epistle to the Romans, trace, throughout, the exhortations of the Spirit of God; and he will find, without a single exception, that they are as completely divested of the legal element as are the promises which glitter like gems on the page of inspiration. This subject is not fully understood. Exhortation in the hands of man is widely different from what it is in the hands of the Holy Ghost. How often do we hear men exhorting us to a certain line of action in order that we may reach certain privileges. The way of the Spirit is the reverse of this. He sets before us our standing in Christ, in the first place, and then He unfolds the walk. He first speaks of privilege—free, unconditional, inalienable privilege, and then He sets forth the holy responsibility connected therewith. He first presents the settled and unalterable relationship in which free grace has set us, and then dwells upon the affections belonging thereto.

There is nothing so hateful to the Spirit of God as legality, that hateful system which casts us as doers back upon self, instead of casting us as lost sinners over upon Christ. Man would fain do something; but he must be brought to the end of himself, and to the end of all beside, and then as a lost sinner, find his rest in Christ—a full, precious, all-sufficient Christ. In this way alone can he ever expect solid peace and true happiness; and only then will he ever be able to yield an intelligent response to the Spirit's " word of exhortation."

Five Words

(1 Cor. 14:19.)

It is often very wonderful to mark the way in which the words of scripture seize upon the heart. They are, indeed, " as goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies." At times, some brief sentence, or clause of a sentence, will lay hold upon the heart, penetrate the conscience, or occupy the mind, in such a way as to prove, beyond all question, the divinity of the book, in which it stands. What force of reasoning, what fullness of meaning, what powder of application, what an unfolding of the springs of nature, what an unveiling of the heart, what point and pungency, what condensing energy, we meet with up and down throughout the sacred pages I One delights to dwell upon these things, at all times; but more especially at a moment like the present, when the enemy of God and man is seeking, in such varied ways, to cast a slur upon the inspired volume.

The foregoing train of thought has, not infrequently, been suggested to the mind by the expression which forms the title of this article. " I had rather," says the self-emptied and devoted apostle, " speak five words with my understanding, that I might teach others also, than ten thousand words in an unknown tongue." How important for all speakers to remember this! We know, of course, that tongues had their value. They were for a sign to the unbelieving. But, in the assembly, they were useless unless there was an interpreter.

The grand end of speaking in the assembly, is edification, and this end can only, as we know, be reached by persons understanding what is said. It is utterly impossible that a man can edify me, if I cannot understand what he says. He must speak in an intelligible language, and in an audible voice, else I cannot receive any edification. This surely is plain, and well worthy the serious attention of all who speak in public.

But, further, we would do well to bear in mind that our only warrant for standing up to speak, in the assembly, is that the Lord Himself has given us something to say. If it be but " Five words," let us utter the five and sit down. Nothing can be more unintelligent than for a man to attempt to speak " Ten thousand words " when God has only given him " Five." Alas! that something like this should so often occur! What a mercy it would be, if we could only keep within our measure! That measure may be small. It matters not; let us be simple, earnest, and real. An earnest heart is better than a clever head; and a fervent spirit better than an eloquent tongue. Where there is a genuine, hearty desire to promote the real good of souls, it will prove more effectual with men, and more acceptable to God than the most brilliant gifts without it. No doubt, we should covet earnestly the best gifts; but we should also remember the " more excellent way," even the way of charity that ever hides itself and seeks only the profit of others. It is not that we value gifts less, but we value charity more.

Finally, it would greatly tend to raise the tone of public teaching and preaching to remember the following very homely rule, " Do not set about looking for something to say, because you have got to speak; but speak because you have got something that ought to be said." This is very simple. It is a poor thing for a man to be merely collecting as much matter as will fill up a certain space of time. This should never be. Let the teacher or preacher attend diligently upon his ministry—let him cultivate his gift—let him wait on God for guidance, power, and blessing—let him live in the spirit of prayer, and breathe the atmosphere of scripture; then will he be always ready for the Master's use, and his words, whether " Five" or " Ten thousand," will, assuredly, glorify Christ and do good to men. But, clearly, in no case, should a man rise to address his fellows, without the conviction that God has given him somewhat to say, and the desire to say it to edification.

Four Points of Knowledge

(Read Deut. 8:1-9.) In these verses we have four valuable points of knowledge connected with our walk through the wilderness: namely, 1. the knowledge of ourselves; 2. the knowledge of God; 3. the knowledge of our relationship; and, 4. the knowledge of our hope.

I. And, first, as to the knowledge of self, we read, " Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart." Here is a wondrous point of knowledge. Who can utter it?

Who can penetrate the depths of a human heart? Who can tell its windings and labyrinths? The details of a wilderness life tend to bring out a vast deal of the evil that is in us. At our first starting upon our Christian career, we are apt to be so occupied with the present joy of deliverance that we know but very little of the real character of nature. It is as we get on, from stage to stage of our desert course, that we become acquainted with self.

II. But, then, we are not to suppose that, as we grow in self-knowledge, our joy must decline. Quite the opposite. This would be to make our joy depend upon ignorance of self whereas it really depends upon the knowledge of God. In point of fact, as the believer advances in the knowledge of himself, his joy becomes deeper and more solid, inasmuch as he is led more thoroughly out of, and away from, himself, to find his sole object in Christ. He learns that nature's total ruin is not merely a true doctrine of the Christian faith, but a deep reality in his own experience. He also learns that divine grace is a reality, that salvation is a reality—a deep, personal reality; that sin is a reality; the cross, a reality; the advocacy of Christ, a reality. In a word, he learns the depth, the fullness, the power, the application of God's gracious resources. " He humbled thee, and suffered thee to hunger," not that you might be driven to despair, but that He might "feed thee with manna, which thou knewest not, neither did thy fathers know, that He might make thee to know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live. Thy raiment waxed not old upon thee, neither did thy foot swell, these forty years."

Touching and beautiful appeal! " Forty years" of uninterrupted evidence of what was in the heart of God toward His redeemed people. "Six hundred thousand footmen" clothed, fed, kept and cared for, during " forty years," in "a vast howling wilderness!" What a noble and soul-satisfying display of the fullness of divine resources! How is it possible that, with the history of Israel's desert wanderings lying open before us, we could ever harbor a single doubt or fear? Oh! that our hearts may be more completely emptied of self, for this is true humility; and more completely filled with Christ, for this is true happiness and true holiness. " For the Lord thy God hath blessed thee in all the works of thy hand; he knoweth thy walking through this great wilderness: these forty years the Lord thy God hath been with thee, thou hast lacked nothing." (Deut. 2:7.)

III. All that we have been dwelling upon flows out of another thing, and that is, the relationship in which we stand. " Thou shalt also consider in thine heart, that as a man chasteneth his son, so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee" This accounts for all. The hunger and the food; the thirst and the water; the trackless desert and the guiding pillar; the toil and the refreshment; the sickness and the healing—all tell of the same thing, a Father's hand, a Father's heart. It is well to remember this, "lest we be weary and faint in our minds." (Heb. 12) An earthly father will have to take down the rod of discipline, as well as to imprint the kiss of affection—to administer the rebuke as well as express his approval; to chasten as well as minister supplies. Thus it is with our heavenly Father. All His dealings flow out of that marvelous relationship in which He stands towards us. He is a " Holy Father." All is summed up in this. Our Father is the " Holy One;" and " the Holy One" is our Father. To walk with, lean on, and imitate Him " as dear children," must secure everything in the way of genuine happiness, real strength, and true holiness. When we walk with Him, we are happy; when we lean on Him, we are strong; and when we imitate Him, we are practically holy and gracious.

IV. Finally, in the midst of all the exercises, the trials, the conflicts, and even the mercies and privileges of the wilderness, we must keep the eye steadily fixed on that four points of knowledge. 233

which lies before us. The joys of the kingdom are to fill our hearts, and to give vigor and buoyancy to our steps, as we pass across the desert. The green fields and vine-clad hills of the heavenly Canaan, the pearly gates and golden streets of the New Jerusalem are to fill the vision of our souls. We are called to cherish the hope of glory—a hope which will never make ashamed. When the sand of the desert tries us, let the thought of Canaan cheer us. Let us dwell upon the " inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for us/' (1 Pet. 1:4.) " For the Lord thy God bringeth thee into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths, that spring out of valleys and hills; a land of wheat, and barley, and vines, and fig-trees, and pomegranates; a land of oil olive and honey; a land wherein thou shalt eat bread without scarceness, thou shalt not lack anything in it; a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills thou mayest dig brass." Bright and blessed prospect! May we dwell upon it, and upon Him who will be the eternal source of all its brightness and blessedness!

" To Canaan's sacred bound

We haste with songs of joy,

Where peace and liberty are found,

And sweets that never cloy;

Hallelujah!

We are on our way to God!

"How sweet the prospect is!

It cheers the pilgrim's breast;

We're journeying through the wilderness,

But soon we'll gain our rest.

Hallelujah!

We are on our way to God.'

Gain to Me

"But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ." (Philip, iii. 7.) What a marvelous change! Saul had had many sources of gain. He had gathered many honors round his name. He had made progress in Judaism beyond many of his equals. He had achieved a legal righteousness in which no man could find a flaw. His zeal, his knowledge, and his morality, were of the very highest order. But, from the moment that Christ was revealed to him, there was a thorough revolution. Everything was changed. His righteousness, his learning, his morality, all that could in any wise be gain to Paul, became as dung. He does not speak of open sins, but of those things that could justly be esteemed as gain to him. The revelation of the glory of Christ had so completely changed the entire current of Paul's thoughts, that the very things, which he had once esteemed as positive gain, he now regarded as positive loss.

And why? Simply because he had found his all in Christ. That blessed One had supplanted everything in Paul's heart. All that belonged to Paul was displaced by Christ; and hence it would have involved actual loss to possess any righteousness or wisdom, holiness or morality, of his own, seeing that he had found all these, in divine perfectness, in Christ. If Christ is made of God unto me righteousness, is it not a loss to me to have any righteousness of my own? Surely. If I have gotten that which is divine, have I any need of that which is human? Clearly not. The more completely I am stripped and emptied of everything in which " J" could glory, or which would be gain to " me," the better, inasmuch as it only renders me all the mote entitled to a full and all-sufficient Christ. Whatever it be that tends to exalt self, whether it be religiousness, morality, respectability, wealth, glory, personal beauty, intellectuality, or philanthropy so called, it is a positive hindrance to our enjoyment of Christ; first, as the foundation of the conscience, and, secondly, as the object of the heart.

May the Spirit of God make Christ more precious to us!

God Preaching Peace

" The word which God sent unto the children of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ: he is Lord of all." Acts 10.'36.

One of the most momentous questions which can be put to a human being is this, " Have you peace with God?" It is a question of the deepest solemnity, and it claims a direct and immediate answer from every heart. There is no reason why any truly anxious soul should continue for one hour, yea, for one moment, without settled peace with God. Christ has made peace by the blood of His cross. God is preaching peace by Jesus Christ; and here we have the solid foundation of the believer's peace—Christ's finished work received on the authority of God's word by the power of the Holy Ghost.

This is the divine basis of peace; and the more simply we build thereon, the more solid our peace will be. The reason why so many are in a state of miserable uncertainty is because they do not rest, in artless faith, on God's foundation. They are occupied with themselves, instead of building exclusively on Christ. They are looking to experience, in place of to a risen Savior. Frames, feelings, and attainments engage them, instead of Christ. They are vainly hoping to find some sort of improvement in themselves, and not finding it, to their satisfaction—for what honest soul ever does?—they are filed with gloomy doubts; the heart is oppressed with anxious fear; the spirit overcast with heavy clouds. They have no divine certainty; and the}'• are trying to find comfort in the exercises of a religious life, and inasmuch as imperfection attaches to their very best and most pious exercises, they are ever kept in a condition of spiritual darkness and bondage. Neither in our inward frames and experiences, nor in our outward exercises—of what kind soever these may be—have we the true ground of our peace in the divine presence. God did not send to the children of Israel, nor does He now send to us Gentiles, preaching peace by spiritual experiences or by religious exercises, but simply by Jesus Christ.

The reader cannot be too simple in laying hold of this great truth. He may rest assured that it is God's gracious desire that his soul should find peace. If not, why should God send, preaching—proclaiming—announcing peace. If God sends us a message of peace, He surely means that we should have it. He has provided it for us, by the precious atoning death of His Son, and He declares it unto us by His Spirit, in the holy scriptures. Thus it is all of God, from first to last; and hence it is called the peace of God. It comes forth from His heart. It bears the impress of His hand; and it is to the praise of His own eternal Name. We have nothing to do but to receive, with all thankfulness, this precious peace, and let it flow, like an even river, through our souls.

And here we would turn directly to the reader and press home upon his soul this grand question, "Hast thou peace with God?" Do not, we beseech thee, put it aside. It is a question of eternal importance—a question, in comparison with which all mere earthly questions dwindle into utter insignificance.

But it may be that some one whose eye scans these lines feels really anxious about this grand question, and would give worlds, if he possessed them, for a full, clear, and satisfactory answer. Such an one may feel disposed to ask, " What is the ground of this peace, and how may I have it for myself?" Two deeply important questions, most surely; and questions which we shall seek, by the grace of God, to answer.

And first, as to the real ground of the soul's peace; if the reader will turn to the last verse of Rom. 4 he will find it set forth in two brief but weighty sentences. In this passage the inspired apostle, in speaking of our Lord Jesus Christ, declares that " He was delivered for our offenses, and raised again for our justification."

Here, we have the solid and imperishable foundation of the sinner's peace—the divine ground on which God can preach peace. Jesus Christ was delivered for our offenses. Let this be carefully noted. Let us mark particularly who was delivered; who delivered Him; and for what He was delivered. All these are essential to our enjoyment of peace.

Who, then, was delivered? The Holy One, the spotless One, the Lamb, the Christ, the Son of God, that blessed One who lay in the bosom of the Father from all eternity, the object of the Father's supreme delight from everlasting, the Eternal Son. This blessed One, who lay in the bosom, from before all worlds, lay in the womb of the virgin, in the manger of Bethlehem, was baptized in Jordan, was tempted in the wilderness, was transfigured on the Mount, was bowed down in the garden, was nailed to a tree, buried in the grave, raised from the dead, and is now seated on the throne of the Majesty in the heavens.

This is He who was " delivered." He stood charged with our offenses. He represented us on the cross. He stood in our stead, and received from the hand of Eternal Justice all that we deserved. There was a regular transfer of all our guilt, all our offenses, all our iniquities, all our transgressions to Him who knew no sin, who had no more to do with sin than we had to do with righteousness. He died in our stead. The One whose whole human life was a sweet odor ever ascending to the throne of God, was delivered up to death, charged with all our offenses.

But who delivered Him? This is a cardinal question. Who delivered Jesus up to the death of the cross? Isa. 53 and 2 Cor. 5 furnish the answer: " It pleased Jehovah to bruise him." "Jehovah hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." Such is the language of the inspired prophet. And now hear the apostle: " God hath made him (Christ) to be sin for us." God has done it. It will not do to say that " we lay our sins on Jesus." We want much more than this. If it were merely a question of our laying our sins on Jesus, we could never have peace with God, seeing that we do not know the extent of our sin, the depth of our guilt, the true amount of our liabilities, as God knows it. In order to have peace with God, I must know that He is satisfied. God was the offended party, the aggrieved One, and He must be satisfied, Well, blessed be His name, He is satisfied, for He Himself has found the ransom. He has laid our sins, according to His estimate of them, on the head of the divine Sin-bearer. All that was needful, not merely to meet our condition, but to satisfy His claims, vindicate His majesty, and glorify His name, He Himself has provided in the atoning death of His own Son. Thus He is satisfied, and hence He can preach to us—peace by Jesus Christ, Lord of all. The spotless Christ was judged on the cross, in our stead. God bid His face from that blessed One—turned away His countenance—closed His car—forsook Him for the moment. And why? Because He was delivered for our offenses. God forsook Him that He might receive us. He treated Him as we deserved, in order that He might treat us as He deserved. Jesus took our place in death and judgment, that we might take His place in life, righteousness, and everlasting glory.

And, now, let us ask—though we have in measure anticipated the question—for what was the precious Savior delivered? "For our offenses." For how many? For all, most surely. When Jesus hung on the cross, all the believer's offenses were laid upon and imputed to Him. Yes, all; for, albeit they were future, so far as he is con-corned, when Christ bore them on the cross, yet is there no such distinction as past, present, or future with Him who spans eternity as a moment. All our sins were laid on Jesus; He answered for them and put them away forever, so that they are gone out of God's sight, and instead of our sins, there is nothing before God save the Christ who bore them and blotted them forever, and was raised for our justification. Who raised Him? Even the same that delivered Him. And why did He raise Him? Because all was settled for which He had been delivered. Christ glorified God in the putting away of our sins; and God glorified Christ, by raising Him from the dead and crowning Him with glory and honor. ]Most marvelous, most precious truth! Christ forsaken on the cross, because our sins were laid on Him. Christ crowned on the throne, because our sins are put away. " He was delivered for our offenses, and raised again for our justification." Such is the true, the solid, the everlasting ground of a sinner's peace in the presence of God.

And now one word as to the question of how the sinner can have this peace for himself. The answer is as simple as God can make it. What is it? Has the sinner to do aught? Has he to be anything but what he is—a poor, lost, worthless, guilty creature? No. He has simply to believe God's word—to receive into his heart, not merely into his head, the blessed message which God sends to him—to rest in Christ—to be satisfied with that which has satisfied God. God is satisfied with Christ, without anything else whatever. Is the reader satisfied? or is he waiting for something more—something of his own—his vows and resolutions—his frames, feelings, and experiences? If so, he cannot get peace. To be satisfied with Christ, is to have peace with Gad.

The Lord of Life in death hath lain,

To clear me from all charge of sin;

And, Lord, from guilt of crimson stain

Thy precious blood hath made me clean.

Grace and Holiness

" C," London. Thank God we are under grace. But does this blessed fact weaken, in any way, the truth that " Holiness becometh God's house forever"? Has it ceased to be true, that " God is greatly to be feared in the assembly of his saints; and to be had in reverence of all those who are about him"? Is the standard of holiness lower for the church of God now, than it was for Israel of old? Has it ceased to be true that "our God is a consuming fire?" It does not say, " God out of Christ;" but " our God." What do we know of God out of Christ? Is evil to be tolerated because " we are not under law, but under grace"? Why were many of the Corinthians weak and sickly? Why did many of them die? Why were Ananias and Sapphira struck dead in a moment? Did that solemn judgment touch the truth that the church was under grace? Assuredly not. But neither did grace hinder the action of judgment. God can no more tolerate evil in His assembly now, than He could in the days of Achan.

You say, "We must not draw comparisons between God's dealings with His earthly people, and His dealings with His church." What mean the following words, in 1 Cor. 10? "Moreover, brethren, I would not that ye should be ignorant, how that all our fathers were under the cloud, and all passed through the sea; and were all baptized unto Moses in the cloud and in the sea; and did all eat the same spiritual meat; and did all drink the same spiritual drink; for they drank of that spiritual Bock that followed them; and that Rock was Christ. But with many of them God was not pleased; for they were overthrown in the wilderness. Now these things were our examples, to the intent we should not lust after evil things, as they also lusted..... Now all these things happened unto them for ensamples; and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come."

Is not this drawing a comparison between God's dealings with His earthly people and His church now? Yes, verily; and well will it be for us all to ponder and be admonished by the comparison. It would be sad indeed if we were to draw a plea from the pure and precious grace in which we stand for lowering the standard of holiness. We are called to purge out the old leaven, on the blessed ground that " Christ our passover is sacrificed for us." Is not this " drawing a comparison"? The assembly at Corinth was commanded—woe be unto them if they had refused—to put away from among them the wicked person, to deliver him to Satan for the destruction of the flesh.

True, they were not called to stone him, or to burn him; and here we have a contrast rather than a comparison. But they had to put him out from among them, if they would have the divine presence in their midst. " Thy testimonies are very sure; holiness be-cometh thy house, Ο Lord, forever." Can you not praise Him for the holiness as well as the grace? Can you not, as the standard of holiness rises before you, add your doxology, " Blessed be his name forever and ever! Amen, and amen"? We trust you can. We are disposed to think that your remarks are the fruit of that one-sidedness to which we are all so prone, and which must ever prove a sad hindrance to our progress in the knowledge of divine truth.

We must never forget that, while we stand in grace, we are to walk in holiness; and, as regards the assembly, if we refuse to judge bad doctrine and bad morals, we are not on the ground of the assembly of God at all. People say we must not judge; God says we must. " Do not ye judge them that are within? But them that are without God judgeth. Therefore put away from among yourselves that wicked person." If the assembly at Corinth had refused to judge that wicked person, it would have forfeited all title to be regarded as the assembly of God; and all who feared the Lord would have had to leave it. It is a very solemn matter indeed to take the ground of the assembly of God. All who do so have to bear in mind that it is not at all a question of whom we can receive, or what we can tolerate, but what is worthy of God? We hear a great deal now-a-days about the "broad" and the "narrow" we have just to be as broad and as narrow as the word of God.

The Grapes of Eshcol

(Numb, 13)

The grand principle of the divine life is faith-simple, earnest, whole-hearted faith-faith that just takes and enjoys all that God has given-faith that puts the soul in possession of eternal realities, and maintains it therein habitually. This is true in reference to the people of God in all ages. "According to your faith, so be it unto you," is ever the divine motto. There is no limit. All that God reveals, faith may have; and all that faith can grasp, the soul may abidingly enjoy.

It is well to remember this. We ail live far, very far below our privileges. We are satisfied, many of us, to move at a great distance from the blessed Center of all our joys. We are content with merely knowing salvation, while, at the same time, we taste but little of holy communion with the Person of the Savior. We are satisfied with merely knowing that a relationship exists, without earnestly and jealously cultivating the affections belonging thereto. This is the cause of much of our coldness and barrenness. As, in the solar system, the further a planet is from the sun the colder its climate and the slower its movement; so in the spiritual system, the further one moves from Christ, the colder will be the state of his heart toward Christ, and the slower his movement for Christ. On the contrary, fervor and rapidity will ever be the result of felt nearness to that central Sun-the great Fountain of heat and light.

The more we enter into the power of the love of Christ, and the more we realize His abiding presence with us, the more intolerable we shall feel it to be one moment away from Him. Everything will be dreaded and avoided which would tend to withdraw our hearts from Him, or hide from our souls the light of His blessed countenance. The heart, that has really learned aught of the love of Christ, cannot

live without it; yea, it can part with all for it. When away from Him, naught is felt save the gloom of midnight and the chilling breath of winter; but in His presence, the soul can mount upward like the lark, as he rises into the bright blue heavens to salute, with his cheerful song, the sun's morning beams.

Nothing exhibits more the deep-seated unbelief of our hearts than the fact that, while our God would have us enjoying communion with the very highest truths, few of us ever think of aspiring beyond the mere alphabet. Our hearts do not sigh, as they should, after the higher walks of spiritual scholarship. We are satisfied with having the foundation laid, and are not as anxious as we should be, to add layer after layer to the spiritual superstructure. Not that we can ever do without the alphabet or the foundation. This would be, obviously, impossible. The most advanced scholar must carry the alphabet along with him,· and the higher the building is raised, the more the need of a solid foundation is felt.

But, let us look at Israel's case. Their history is full of rich instruction for us. It is "written for our admonition." (1 Cor. 10:11.) We must contemplate them in three distinct positions, namely, as sheltered by the blood; as victorious over Amalek; and as introduced into the land of Canaan.

Now, clearly, an Israelite in the land of Canaan had lost nothing of the value of the first two points. He was not the less shielded from judgment, or delivered from the sword of Amalek, because he was in the land of Canaan. Nay, the milk and honey, the grapes, figs, and pomegranates of that goodly land would but enhance the value of that precious blood which had preserved them from the sword of the destroyer, and afford the most unquestionable evidence of their having passed beyond the cruel grasp of Amalek.

Still, surely, no one would say that an Israelite ought to have sought nothing beyond the blood-stained lintel. It is plain he ought to have fixed his steady gaze on the vine-clad hills of the promised land, and said, " There lies my destined inheritance, and by the grace of Abraham's God, I shall never rest satisfied until I plant my foot triumphantly thereon." The blood-stained lintel was the starting post; the land of promise, the goal. It was Israel's high privilege not only to have the assurance of full deliverance from the hand of Pharaoh, and the sword of Amalek, but also to cross the Jordan and pluck the mellow grapes of Eshcol. It was their sin and their shame that with the clusters of Eshcol before them, they could ever long after " the leeks, the onions, and the garlick " of Egypt.

But how was this? What kept them back? Just that hateful thing which, from day to day, and hour to hour, robs us of the precious privilege of treading the very highest stages of the divine life. And what is that? UNBELIEF! "So we see that they could not enter in because of unbelief." (Heb. 3:19.) This it was which caused Israel to wander in the desert for forty tedious years. Instead of looking at Jehovah's power to bring them into the land, they looked at the enemy's power to keep them out of it. Thus they failed. In vain did the spies, whom they themselves proposed to send, (Deut. 1:22.) bring back a most attractive report of the characterof the land. In vain did they display in their view a cluster of the grapes of Eshcol, so luxuriant that two men had to hear it upon a staff. All was useless. The spirit of unbelief had taken possession of their hearts. It was one thing to admire the grapes of Eshcol when brought to their tent doors by the energy of others; and quite another to move onward, in the energy of personal faith, and pluck those grapes for themselves.

And if " twelve men " could get to Eshcol, why not six hundred thousand? Could not the same hand that shielded the one, shield the other likewise? Faith says " Yes."' But unbelief shrinks from responsibility, and quails before difficulty. The people were no more willing to advance after the spies returned, than before they set out, They were in a state of unbelief, first and last. And what was the issue? Why, that out of six hundred thousand, which came up out of Egypt, only two had sufficient energy to-plant their foot in the land of Canaan. This tells a tale. It utters a voice. It teaches a lesson. May we have ears to hear, and hearts to understand!

It may, perhaps, be said by some, that the time had not yet arrived for Israel's entrance into the land of Canaan, inasmuch as "the iniquity of the Amorites was not yet full." This is but a one-sided view of the subject, and we must look at both sides. The apostle expressly declares that Israel "could not enter in because of unbelief." He does not assign as a reason " the iniquity of the Amorites," or any secret counsel of God with respect to the Amorites. He simply gives as a reason, the unbelief of the people. They might have got in if they would. Nothing can be more unwarrantable than to make use of the unsearchable counsels and decrees of God, in order to throw overboard man's solemn responsibility. It will never do. Are we to fold our arms and lie back in the culpable indolence of unbelief, because of God's eternal decrees about which we know nothing? To say so can only be viewed as a piece of monstrous extravagance, the sure result of pushing one truth to such an extreme as to interfere with the range and action of some other truth equally important. We must give each and every truth its due place. We should not run one truth to seed while some other truth is not even allowed to take root. We know that unless God bless the labors of the husbandman there will be no crop at the time of harvest; does this prevent the diligent use of the plow and the harrow? Surely not, for the same God who has appointed the crop as the end, has appointed patient labor as the means.

Thus it is also in the spiritual world. God's appointed end must never be separated from God's appointed means. Had Israel trusted God and gone up, the whole assembly might have regaled themselves on Eshcol's luxuriant clusters. This they did not do. The grapes were lovely, no doubt. This was obvious to all. The spies were constrained to admit that the land flowed with milk and honey. But there was sure to be a "nevertheless." Why? Because they were not trusting in God. He had already declared to Moses the character of the land, and His testimony ought to have been amply sufficient. He had said, in the most unqualified manner, " I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk and honey." (Exod. 3:8.) Should not this have sufficed? Was not Jehovah's description much more trustworthy than man's? Yes, to faith; but not to unbelief. This latter can never be satisfied with divine testimony, it must have the testimony of the senses. God had said it was " a land flowing with milk and honey." This the spies admitted. But, then, hearken to the additions. " Nevertheless the people be strong that dwell in the land, and the cities are walled and very great; and, moreover, we saw the children of Anak there......and there we saw the giants, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants; and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so were we in their sight." Numb. 14:28.

Thus it was with them. They only " saw" the frowning walls and towering giants. They did not see Jehovah, because they looked with the eye of sense and not with the eye of faith. God was shut out. He never gets a place in the calculations of unbelief. It can see walls and giants; but it cannot see God. It is only faith that can " endure as seeing him who is invisible." The spies could declare what they were in their own sight, and in the sight of the giants, but not a word about what they were in God's sight. They never thought of this. The land was all that could be desired; but the difficulties were too great for them, and they had not faith to trust God. The mission of the spies proved a failure. Israel " despised the pleasant land,'' and, " in their hearts, turned back again into Egypt."

This is the sum of the matter. Unbelief kept Israel from plucking the grapes of Eshcol, and sent them back to wander for forty years in the wilderness; and these things, be it remembered, "were written for our admonition." May we deeply and prayerfully ponder the lesson! Out of six hundred thousand that came up out of Egypt, only two planted their foot on the fruitful hills of Palestine! They passed the lied Sea, triumphed over Amalek, but quailed and retreated before " the sons of Anak," though these latter were no more to Jehovah than the former.

Now, let the Christian reader ponder all this. The special object of this paper is to encourage him to arise, and, in the energy of a full, unqualified trust in Christ, tread the very highest stages of the life of faith. Having our solid foundation laid in the blood of the cross, it is our privilege not only to be victorious over Amalek, or indwelling sin, but also to taste of the old corn of the land of Canaan, to pluck the grapes of Eshcol, and delight ourselves in its flowing tide of milk and honey; or, in other words, to enter into the living and elevated experiences which flow from habitual fellowship with arisen Christ, with whom we are linked in the power of an endless life. It is one thing to know that our sins are canceled by the blood of Christ. It is another thing to know that Christ has destroyed the power of indwelling sin. And it is a still higher thing to live in unbroken fellowship with Himself. It is not that we lose the sense of the two former when living in the power of the latter. Quite the opposite. The more closely I walk with Christ-the more I have Him dwelling in my heart by faith, the more I shall value all He has done for me, both in the putting away of my sins, and in the entire subjugation of my evil nature. The higher the superstructure rises the more I shall value the solid foundation beneath. It is a great mistake to suppose that those who move in the higher spheres of spiritual life could ever undervalue the title by which they do so. Oh! no; the language of those who have passed into the innermost circle of the upper sanctuary is, " Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood." They talk of the love of Christ's heart and the blood of His cross. The nearer they approach to the throne, the more they enter into the value of that which placed them on such a sublime elevation. And so with us; the more we breathe the air of the divine presence-the more we tread, in spirit, the courts of the heavenly sanctuary, the more highly shall we estimate the riches of redeeming love. It is as we pluck the grapes of Eshcol in the heavenly Canaan, that we have the deepest sense of the value of that precious blood which shielded us from the sword of the destroyer.

Let us not, therefore, be deterred from aiming after a higher consecration of heart to Christ by a false fear of undervaluing those precious truths which filled our hearts with heavenly peace when first we started on our Christian career. The enemy will use anything and everything to keep the spiritual Israel from planting the foot of faith in the spiritual Canaan. He will seek to keep them occupied with themselves and with the difficulties which attend upon their upward and onward course. He knows that when one has really eaten of the grapes of Eshcol, it is no longer a question of escaping from Pharaoh or Amalek, and hence he sets before them the walls and the giants, and their own nothingness, weakness, and unworthiness. But the answer is simple and conclusive. It is this, trust! trust! trust! Yes, from the blood-stained lintel in Egypt, to the rare and exquisite clusters of Eshcol, it is all simple, unqualified, unquestioning trust in Christ. " By faith they kept the passover, and the sprinkling of blood;" and, " by faith the walls of Jericho fell down." (Heb. 11) From the starting post to the goal, and at every intermediate stage, " The just shall live by faith."

But, let us never forget that this faith involves the full surrender of the heart to Christ, as well as the full acceptance of Christ for the heart. Reader, let us ponder this deeply. It must be wholly Christ for the heart and the heart wholly for Christ. To separate these things is, as some one has remarked, to be " like a boat with one side oar, which goes round and round, but makes no progress, only drifts with the stream, whirling as it drifts. Or like a bird with a broken wing, whirling over and over, and falling as it whirls." This is too much lost sight of, and hence, the uncertain course and fluctuating experience. There is no progress. People cannot expect to get on with Christ in one hand and the world in the other. We can never feast on " the grapes of Eshcol" while our hearts are longing after " the flesh pots of Egypt."

May the Lord grant us a whole heart-a single eye-an upright mind. May the one commanding object of our souls be to mount upward and onward. Having all divinely and eternally settled, by the blood of the cross, may we press forward, with holy energy and decision, " toward the mark, for the prize of our high calling of God in Christ Jesus."

" Ο wondrous grace! Ο love divine!

To give us such a home;

Let us the present things resign,

And seek the rest to come;

And gazing on our Savior's cross,

Esteem all else but dung and dross:

Press forward till the race be run;

Fight till the crown of life he won."

Have Faith in God

How prone we are, in moments of pressure and difficulty, to turn the eye to some creature resource! Our hearts are full of creature confidence, human hopes, and earthly expectations. We know comparatively little of the deep blessedness of simply looking to God. We are ready to look anywhere and everywhere rather than to Him. We turn to any broken cistern and lean on any broken reed, although we have an exhaustless Fountain and Rock of Ages ever near.

And yet we have proved times without number that "creature streams are dry." Man is sure to disappoint us when we look to him. "Cease ye from man whose breath is in his nostrils; for wherein is he to be accounted of?" Isa. 2:22. And again, "Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the LORD. For he shall be like the heath in the desert, and shall not see when good cometh; but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, in a salt land, and not inhabited." Jer. 17:5, 6.

Such is the sad result of leaning on the creature-barrenness, desolation, disappointment—like the heath in the desert. No refreshing showers—no dew from heaven—no good—nothing but drought and sterility. How can it be otherwise when the heart is turned away from the Lord, the only source of blessing? It lies not within the range of the creature to satisfy the heart. God alone can do this. He can meet our every need and satisfy our every desire. He never fails a trusting heart.

But He must be trusted in reality. "What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say" he trusts God, if he really does not do so? A sham faith will not do. It will not do to trust in word, neither in tongue. It must be in deed and in truth. Of what use is a faith with one eye on the Creator, and another on the creature? Can God and the creature occupy the same platform? Impossible. It must be God—or what? The creature and the curse that ever follows creature confidence.

Mark the contrast. "Blessed is the man that trusteth in the LORD, and whose hope the LORD is. For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green; and shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit." Jer. 17:7, 8.

How blessed! How bright! How beautiful! Who would not put his trust in such a God? How delightful to find oneself wholly and absolutely cast upon Him! To be shut up to Him. To have Him filling the entire range of the soul's vision. To find all our springs in Him. To be able to say, "My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation; He is my defense; I shall not be moved." Psalm 62:5, 6.

Note the little word "only." It is very searching. It will not do to say we are trusting in God, while the eye is all the while askance upon the creature. It is much to be feared that we frequently talk about looking to the Lord, while in reality we are expecting our fellow man to help us. "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? I the LORD search the heart, I try the reins, even to give every man according to his ways, and according to the fruit of his doings." Jer. 17:9, 10.

How needful to have the heart's deepest motive springs judged in the presence of God! We are so apt to deceive ourselves by the use of certain phrases which, so far as we are concerned, have no force, no value, no truth whatever. The language of faith is on our lips, but the heart is full of creature confidence. We talk to men about our faith in God, in order that they may help us out of our difficulties.

Let us be honest. Let us walk in the clear light of God's presence, where everything is seen as it really is. Let us not rob God of His glory, and our own souls of abundant blessing, by an empty profession of dependence on Him, while the heart is secretly going out after some creature stream. Let us not miss the deep joy, peace and blessing, the strength, stability and victory, that faith ever finds in the living God, in the living Christ of God, and in the living Word of God. Oh! let us "Have faith in God."

He From Within

(Luke 11:7.)

The word of God judges, with perfect accuracy, the human heart, and discloses all its most secret springs of thought and action. Indeed, this is one special way in which we may know that it is the word of God. The poor Samaritan woman could say, " Come, see a man that told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?" She judged that a man that could lay bare before her the deep secrets of her heart and of her life, must needs be the long expected Messiah; and she judged rightly. In like manner, we may say, " Come, see a book that told me all things that ever I did: is not this the word of God?" No one can read the heart but God. No book can disclose the human heart but God's book; wherefore, inasmuch as the Bible doth perfectly disclose the human heart, we may know, even had we no other mode of judging, that the Bible is the word of God.

Such an argument may be utterly contemned by an infidel, a skeptic, or a rationalist, who must, therefore, be met on other grounds; but it is impossible for any upright mind to ponder the simple fact that the Bible perfectly unfolds man's very nature, his thoughts, his feelings, his desires, his affections, his imaginations, the most secret chambers of his moral being, and not be convinced that the Bible is nothing less than the very word of God, which is " quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." Heb. 4:12.

Nor is it, merely, in the word of God, as a whole, that we observe this intense power of " discerning the thoughts and intents of the heart," but also in detached passages, in brief sentences, in a verse or clause of a verse. Look, for instance, at the three words which appear at the head of this article. What a revelation of the selfishness of the human heart do these words contain! What an expression of the narrow enclosure within which it retires! What a brief, pointed, pithy commentary upon man's reluctance to be intruded upon, when he has made arrangements for his personal ease! Who can read them, and not see in them a perfect mirror in which the very pulsations of his own heart are reflected? We do not like to be intruded upon, when we have retired, from the scene around us, into the narrow circle of our personal or domestic enjoyment. When we have drawn the curtains, made ready the fire, opened the desk or the book, we do not like to have to respond to a call from without It is at such times, we can enter into the words, "He from within" They really contain a volume of profound moral truth. They graphically and vividly set forth an attitude of heart in which we are all far too frequently to be found. We are all too ready, when a call comes, to send forth our answer " from within." We are too prone to say, "Dear me! this is a most untoward moment for that person to call, just when I am so particularly engaged." All this is precisely the attitude of heart set forth in the words-the selfish words, "He from within."

And, let us inquire, what answer is sure to be returned from the one who speaks "from within?" Just what might be expected. " Trouble me not." The man who has retired into the narrow circle of his own personal ease and enjoyment, closed his door, and drawn his curtains around him, does not like to be " troubled" by any one. Such an one is sure to say, even though appealed to as a " friend," "I cannot rise." And why could he not " rise?" Because " the door was shut, and his children were with him in bed." In a word, his reasons for not rising were all selfish, and when he did rise, it was only from a selfish desire to avoid further trouble. "Importunity" prevailed over a selfishness which was proof against the appeals of friendship.

How unlike all this was the blessed Lord Jesus Christ! His door was never shut. He never answered "from within." He ever had a ready response to every needy applicant. He had not time to eat bread, or take rest, so occupied was He with human need. He could say, " I forget to eat my meat," so entirely was He given up to the service of others. He never murmured on account of the ceaseless intrusion of needy humanity. He kept no record of all he had to do, nor did he ever complain of it. " He went about doing good." " His meat and his drink were to do the will of him that sent him, and to finish his work." To Him the poor and the needy, the heavy-laden and the heart-broken, the outcast and the wretched, the homeless and the stranger, the widow and the orphan, the diseased and the desolate, might all flock, in the full assurance of finding in Him a fountain ever flowing over, and sending forth, in all directions, the copious streams of living sympathy, toward every possible form of human need. The door of His heart was always wide open.. He never said to any son of want, or child of sorrow, " I cannot rise and give thee." He was ready to " arise and go" with every needy applicant, and His gracious word ever was, "Give."

Such was Jesus when down here; and He is still "the very same, whose glory fills all heaven above" His door stands open, so that the vilest, the guiltiest, and the neediest of sinners are welcome. They can have their crimson and scarlet sins washed away in His atoning blood. They can have pardon and peace, life and righteousness, heaven and its eternal weight of glory, all as the free gift of grace divine; and, while on their way from grace to glory, they can have all the love of His heart and the strength of His shoulder-that heart which told forth its deathless affection on the cross, and that shoulder which shall bear up the pillars of divine government forever.

And, now, Christian reader, suffer the word of exhortation. Remember that Christ is your life, and that Christianity is nothing less than the living exhibition of Christ in your daily walk. Christianity is not a set of opinions to be defended, or a set of ordinances to be observed. It is far more than these. It expresses itself thus, " To me to live is Christ." This is Christianity. May we know and manifest its power! May we be more occupied with Him who is our life! Then we too shall keep the door of the heart open to the sorrows, the miseries, the wants, and the woes of fallen and suffering humanity. We shall be ready to " rise and give" to every case of real need. If we cannot give "three loaves" or the price of them, we shall, at least, give the look of love, the word of kindness, the tear of sympathy, the accents of fervent intercession; and, in no case, shall we suffer ourselves to get into the attitude of intense selfishness expressed in the words, " He from within.'' " For ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he be came poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich."

Headship and Lordship

It is deeply interesting, and most profitable, to mark the varied lines of truth laid down in the word of God, and to note how all these lines stand inseparably linked with the Person of our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the divine center of all truth; and it is as we keep the eye of faith steadily fixed on Him, that each truth will find its right place in our souls, and exert its due influence and formative power over our course and character. There is in all of us, alas! a tendency to be one-sided—to take up some one particular truth and press it to such a degree as to interfere with the healthy action of some other truth. This is a serious mistake, and it tends to damage the cause of truth, and hinder the growth of our souls. It is by the truth, not some truth we grow; by the truth we are sanctified. But if we 0111) take a part of the truth—if our character is molded, and our way shaped by some particular truth, there can be no real growth—no true sanctification. 'As newborn babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby." (1 Pet. 2:2.) "Sanctify them through thy truth; thy word is truth." (John 17:17.) It is by the whole truth of God, as contained in the scriptures, that the Holy Ghost forms, and fashions, and leads on the Church collectively, and each individual believer; and we may rest assured that where some special truth is unduly pressed, or some other truth practically ignored, there must be, as a result, a defective character, and an inadequate testimony.

Take, for example, the two great subjects named at the head of this article—" Headship and Lordship." Is it not important to give each of these truths its due place? Is not Christ Head of His body the Church, as well as Lord of the individual members? And, if so, should not our conduct be ruled, and our character formed, by the spiritual application of the former as well as the latter? Unquestionably. Well, then, if we think of Christ as Head, it leads us into a very distinct and a very practical range of truth. It will not interfere with the truth of His Lordship; but it will tend to keep the soul well balanced, which is so needful in days like the present. If we think only of Christ as Lord of His servants, individually, we shall entirely lose the sense of our relationship one to another, as members of that one body of which He is the Head, and thus we shall be drawn away into mere independency, acting without the slightest reference to our fellow members. We shall, to use a figure, become like the hairs of an electrified broom, each standing out in his own intense individuality, and practically disowning all vital connection with our brethren.

But. on the other hand, when the truth of Christ's Headship gets its proper place in our souls—when we know and believe that " there is one body," and that we are members one of another; then—while we most fully own that each one of us, in our individual path and service, is responsible to the " one Lord"—it will follow as a grand practical result that our walk and ways are affecting every member of the body of Christ on earth. " If one member suffer, all the members suffer with it." We can no longer view ourselves as independent isolated atoms, seeing we are incorporated as members of " one body" by " one Spirit," and thus linked with the " one Head," in heaven.

This great doctrine is clearly and fully unfolded in Rom. 12:3-8, and 1 Cor. 12 to which we beg the reader's serious attention. And, be it remembered, that this truth of Christ's Headship and our membership, is not a thing of the past merely; it is a present reality—a grand formative truth, to be tenaciously held, and practically carried out from day to day. " There is one body." This holds good to-day, just as thoroughly as when the inspired apostle penned the epistle to the Ephesians; and hence it follows that each individual believer is exerting a good or a bad influence upon believers at the very antipodes.

Does this seem incredible? If so, it is only to carnal reason and blind unbelief. Surely we cannot reduce the Church of God—the body of Christ, to a matter of geographical position. That Church, that body, is united by—what? Life? No. Faith? No. By what, then? By God the Holy Ghost. Old Testament saints had life and faith; but what could they have known about a Head in heaven or a body on earth? Nothing whatever. If any one had spoken to Abraham about being a member of a body, he would not have understood it. How could he? There was nothing of the kind existing. There was no Head in heaven, and hence there could be no body on earth. True, the eternal Son was in heaven, as a divine Person in the eternal Trinity; but He was not there as a glorified Man, or Head of a body. Nay more; even in the days of His flesh, we hear Him saying, " Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone" No union—no Headship—no membership—no vital connection, until after His death upon the cross. It was not until redemption became an accomplished fact that heaven beheld that wonder of wonders, namely, glorified humanity on the throne of God; and the counterpart of that was God the Holy Ghost dwelling in men upon earth. Old Testament saints would have understood Lordship; but not Headship. This latter had no existence, save in the eternal purpose of God. It did not exist in fact, until Christ took His seat on high, having obtained eternal redemption.

Hence, then, this truth of Headship is most glorious and precious. It claims the earnest attention of the christian reader. We would solemnly and earnestly entreat him not to regard it as a mere speculation—a matter of no importance. Let him be assured it is a great fundamental truth, having its source in a risen Christ in glory—its foundation in accomplished redemption—its present sphere of display, this earth—its power of development, the Holy Ghost; its authority in the New Testament.

A Heart for Christ

(Read Matt, xxvi.)

In this solemn chapter, we have a great many hearts revealed. The heart of the chief priests, the heart of the elders, the heart of the scribes, the heart of Peter, the heart of Judas. But there is one heart in particular unlike all the others, and that is the heart of the woman who brought the alabaster box of very precious ointment, to anoint the body of Jesus. This woman had a heart for Christ. She may have been a very great sinner—a very ignorant sinner, but her eyes had been opened to see a beauty in Jesus which led her to judge that nothing was too costly to be spent on Him. In a word, she had a heart for Christ.

Passing over the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes, let us look for a moment at the heart of this woman in contrast with the heart of Judas and the heart of Peter.

I. Judas was a covetous man. He loved money. A very common love in every age. He had preached the gospel. He had walked in company with the Lord Jesus, during the days of His public ministry. He had heard His words, seen His ways, experienced His kindness. But, alas! though an apostle, though a companion of Jesus, though a preacher of the gospel, he had no heart for Christ. He had a heart for money. His heart was ever moved by the thought of gain. When money was in question, he was ail alive. The deepest depths of his being were stirred by money. " The bag"' was his nearest and dearest object. Satan knew this. He knew the special lust of Judas. He was fully aware of the price at which he could be bought. He understood his man, how to tempt him, and how to use him. Solemn thought!

Be it observed, also, that the very position of Judas made him all the more fit for Satan. His acquaintance with the ways of Christ made him a fit person to betray Him into the hands of His enemies. Head knowledge of sacred things, if the heart be not touched, renders a man more awfully callous, profane, and wicked. The chief priests and scribes in Matthew ii. had a head knowledge of the letter of Scripture, but no heart for Christ. They could at once hand down the prophetic roll and find the place where it was written, " Thou Bethlehem, in the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda; for out of thee shall come a Governor that shall rule my people Israel." (ver. 6.) All this was very well, very true, and very beautiful; but, then, they had no heart for this " Governor"—no eyes to see Him—they did not want Him. They had Scripture at their fingers' ends. They would have felt ashamed, no doubt, had they not been able to answer Herod's question. It would have been a disgrace to men in their position to exhibit ignorance; but they had no heart for Christ, and hence they laid their scriptural knowledge at the feet of an ungodly king, who was about to use it, if he could, for the purpose of slaying the true heir to the throne. So much for head-knowledge without heart-love.

It is not, however, that we would make little of scriptural knowledge. Far from it. The true knowledge of Scripture must lead the heart to Jesus. But there is such a thing as knowing the letter of Scripture so as to be able to repeat chapter after chapter, verse after verse, yea, so as to be a sort of walking concordance, and, all the while, the heart be cold and callous toward Christ. This knowledge will only throw one more into the hands of Satan, as in the case of the chief priests and scribes. Herod would not have applied to ignorant men for information. The devil never takes up ignorant men, or stupid men, to act against the truth of God. No; he finds fitter agents to do his work. The learned, the intellectual, the deep-thinking, provided only they have no heart for Christ, will answer him well, at all times. What was it saved " the wise men from the east?" Why could not Herod—why could not Satan—enlist them into his service? Oh! reader, mark the reply. They had a heart for Christ. Blessed safeguard! Doubtless, they were ignorant of Scripture -they would have made but a poor hand of searching for a passage in the prophets; but they were looking for Jesus -earnestly, honestly, diligently looking for Jesus. Wherefore, Herod would fain have made use of them if he could; but they were not to be used by him. They found their way to Jesus. They did not know much about the prophet who had spoken of the " Governor;" but they found their way to the " Governor" Himself. They found Him in the Person of the babe in the manger at Bethlehem; and instead of being tools in the hands of Herod, they were worshippers at the feet of Jesus.

Now, it is not that we would commend ignorance of Scripture. By no means. People are sure to err greatly who know not the Scriptures. It was to the praise of Timothy that the apostle could say to him, " From a child thou hast known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation;" but, then, he adds, "through faith which is in Christ Jesus." (2 Tim. iii. 15.) The true knowledge of Scripture will always conduct us to the feet of Jesus; but mere head-knowledge of Scripture, without heart-love for Christ, will only render us the more effective agents in the hands of Satan.

Thus, in the case of the hard-hearted, money-loving Judas, He had knowledge, without a spark of affection for Christ, and his very familiarity with that blessed One made him a suitable instrument for the devil. His nearness to Jesus enabled him to be a traitor. The devil knew that thirty pieces of silver could purchase his service in the horrible work of betraying his Master.

Reader, think of this! Here was an apostle—a preacher of the gospel—a high professor; yet, underneath the cloak of profession, lay ',a heart exercised in covetous practices”- a heart which had a wide place for " thirty pieces of silver," but not a corner for Jesus. What a case! what a picture! what a warning! Oh! all ye heartless professors, think of Judas! think of his course! think of his character! think of his end! He preached the gospel, but he never knew it, never believed it, never felt it. He had painted sunbeams on canvas, but he had never felt their influence. He had plenty of heart for money, but no heart for Christ. As " the son of perdition" " he hanged himself," and " went to his own place." Professing Christians, beware of head-knowledge, lip-profession, official piety, mechanical religion- beware of these things, and seek to have a heart for Christ.

II. In Peter we have another warning, though of a different kind. He really loved Jesus, but he feared the cross. He shrank from confessing His name in the midst of the enemy's ranks. He boasted of what he would do, when he should have been self-emptied. He was fast asleep when he ought to have been on his knees. Instead of praying he was sleeping; and, then, instead of being still, he was drawing his sword. " He followed Jesus afar off," and then "warmed himself at the high priest's fire." Finally, he cursed and swore that he did not know his gracious Master. All this was terrible! Who could suppose that the Peter of Matt. 16:16, is the Peter of Matt. 26? Yet so it is. Man, in his best estate, is but like a sere autumn leaf. There is none abiding. The highest position, the loudest profession, may all end in following Jesus afar off", and of basely denying His name.

It is very probable, yea, almost certain, that Peter would have spurned the thought of selling Jesus for thirty pieces of silver, and yet he was afraid to confess Him before a servant maid. He might not have betrayed Him to His enemies, but he denied Him before them. He may not have loved money, but he failed to manifest a heart for Christ.

Christian reader, remember Peter's fall, and beware of self-confidence. Cultivate a prayerful spirit. Keep close to Jesus. Keep away from the influence of this world's favor. " Keep thyself pure." Beware of dropping into a sleepy, torpid condition of soul. Be earnest and watchful. Be occupied with Christ. This is the true safeguard. Do not be satisfied with the mere avoidance of open sin. Do not rest in mere blamelessness of conduct and character. Cherish lively warm affections toward Christ. One who " follows Jesus afar off" may deny Him before long. Let us think of this. Let us profit by the case of Peter. He himself afterward tells us to " be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: whom resist, steadfast in the faith." (1 Pet. 5:8, 9.) These are weighty words, coming, as they do, from the Holy Ghost, through the pen of one who had suffered so much from lack of " vigilance."

Blessed be the grace that could say to Peter, before his fall," I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not." Mark, He does not say, " I have prayed for thee that thou mayest not fall." No; but "that thy faith fail not" when thou hast fallen. Precious, matchless grace! This was Peter's resource. He was a debtor to grace, from first to last. As a lost sinner, he was a debtor to " the precious blood of Christ;" and as a stumbling saint, he was a debtor to the all-prevailing advocacy of Christ. Thus it was with Peter. The advocacy of Christ was the basis of his happy restoration. Of this advocacy Judas knew nothing. It is only those who are washed in the blood that partake of the advocacy. Judas knew nothing of either. Hence " he went and hanged himself;" whereas Peter went forth, as a converted or restored soul, to " strengthen his brethren." There is no one so fit to strengthen his brethren as one who has himself experienced the restoring grace of Christ. Peter was able to stand before the congregation of Israel and say, " Ye denied the Holy One and the Just," the very thing he had done himself. This shows how entirely his conscience was purged by the blood and his heart restored by the advocacy of Christ.

And now, one word as to the woman with the alabaster box. She stands forth in bright and beauteous contrast with all. While the chief priests, elders, and scribes were plotting against Christ, 11 in the palace of the high priest, who was called Caiaphas," she was anointing His body, " in the house of Simon the leper.'* While Judas was covenanting with the chief priests to sell Jesus for thirty pieces of silver, she was pouring the precious contents of her alabaster box upon His Person. Touching contrast! She was wholly absorbed with her object, and her object was Christ. Those who knew not His worth and beauty might pronounce her sacrifice a waste. Those who could sell Him for thirty pieces of silver might talk of " giving to the poor;" but she heeded them not. Their surmisings and murmurings were nothing to her. She had found her all in Christ. They might murmur, but she could worship and adore. Jesus was more to her than all the poor in the world. She felt that nothing was " waste" that was spent on Him. He might only be worth thirty pieces of silver to one who had a heart for money. He was worth ten thousand worlds to her, because she had a heart for Christ. Happy woman! May we imitate thee.' May we ever find our place at the feet of Jesus, loving, adoring, admiring, and worshipping His blessed Person. May we spend and be spent in His service, even though heartless professors should deem our service a foolish " waste." The time is rapidly approaching when we shall not repent of anything done for His name's sake; yea, if there could be room for a single regret, it will be that we so faintly and feebly served His cause in the world. If, on "the morning without clouds," a single blush could mantle the cheek, it will be that we did not, when down here, dedicate ourselves more undividedly to His service.

Reader, let us ponder these things. And may the Lord grant us A HEART FOR CHRIST!

From the pen of a dear departed youth, who lately fell asleep in Jesus, in his sixteenth year. The lines were, with many others, found in his pocket book after his death.

Oh! I have been at the brink of the grave,

And stood on the edge of its deep, dark wave;

And I thought in the still, calm hours of night,

Of those regions where all is ever bright:

And I fear'd not the wave

Of the gloomy grave,

For I knew that Jehovah was mighty to save.

And I have watch'd the solemn ebb and flow

Of life's tide which was fleeting sure the' slow;

I've stood on the shore of eternity,

And heard the deep roar of its rushing sea;

Yet I fear'd not the wave

Of the gloomy grave,

For I knew that Jehovah was mighty to save.

And I found that my only rest could be

In the death of the One who died for me;

For my rest is bought with the price of blood,

Which gush'd from the veins of the Son of God.

So I fear not the wave

Of the gloomy grave,

For I knew that Jehovah was mighty to save.

Banks of the Clwyd, May 6th, 1858.

If the Lord Tarry

My beloved Friend,

Since our last conversation, I have been thinking a good deal of the subject which was then before us; and the more I think of it, the more disposed I am to doubt the moral fitness of the use so frequently made of the sentence which stands at the head of my letter. I have never been able to adopt the phrase, either in writing or speaking. In fact, it is not according to scripture, though it seems, of late years, to have become a favorite expression with many christian people who, I feel assured, desire to speak and act as in the divine presence, and according to the direct teaching of holy scripture.

I trust I need not assure you, my friend, that in raising an objection to this special form of speech, I would not, for a moment, even seem to weaken in any heart, the sense of the nearness of the Lord's coming—that most blessed hope which ought, each day, to become brighter and brighter in the vision of our souls. Far be the thought! That hope abides, in all its moral power, and, in no wise, depends on the using or not using any set form of words.

But then supposing I say, " If the Lord tarry, I mean to go to London next week," I make my going to London dependent upon the Lord's tarrying, whereas, He may tarry, and yet it may not be His will that I should go at all; and hence I ought to place all my movements, all my actions, all my plans, under the commanding influence of my Lord's will.

Is not this in direct accordance with scripture? What does the inspired apostle James say on the point? " Go to now, ye that say, To-day or to-morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain; whereas, ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this or that." Jas. 4

Here, the Spirit of God furnishes us with the proper form of words to be used in all our acts and ways; and surely we cannot find anything better than what He graciously deigns to give. " If the Lord will" includes everything which is to regulate our movements, whether the Lord is pleased to tarry or not.

But in writing this I have no thought, I assure you, of judging any one in his use of any particular phrase. I am merely giving you my reasons for not adopting the formulary in question. And I may just add, in con-elusion, that whether we say, " If the Lord tarry," or "If the Lord will," we should ever seek, most earnestly, to be in the present power of the words we use, and thus avoid everything bordering, in the most remote degree, upon mere empty phraseology or religious cant. May the Lord make us very real, in all our words and ways!

Ever, my beloved friend,

Most affectionately yours,

C. H. M.

Isolation

It is one of our great difficulties at the present moment—indeed it has ever been a difficulty—to combine a narrow path with a wide heart. There is very much, on all sides, tending to produce isolation. We cannot deny it. Links of human friendship seem so fragile; so many things crop up to shake confidence; so many things which one cannot possibly sanction, that the path becomes more and more isolated.

All this is unquestionably true. But we must be very careful as to how we meet this condition of things. We have little idea how much depends on the spirit in which we carry ourselves in the midst of scenes and circumstances which, all must admit, are peculiarly trying.

For example, I may retire in upon myself, and become bitter, morose, severe, repulsive, withered up, having no heart for the Lord's people, for His service, for the holy and happy exercises of the assembly. I may become barren of good works, having no sympathy with the poor, the sick, the sorrowful: living in the narrow circle within which I have retired; thinking only of myself, my personal and family interests.

What, we may well inquire, can be more miserable than this? It is simply the most deplorable selfishness; but we do not see it, because we are blinded by our inordinate occupation with other people's failures.

Now it is a very easy matter to find out flaws, foibles, and faults in our brethren and friends. But the question is, How are we to meet these things? Is it by retiring in upon ourselves? Never; no, never. To do this is to render ourselves as miserable in ourselves as we are worthless, and worse than worthless, to others. There are few things more pitiable than what we call "a disappointed man." He is always finding fault with others. He has never discovered the real root of the matter, or the true secret of dealing with it. He has retired, but it is in upon himself. He is isolated, but his isolation is utterly false. He is miserable; and he will make all who come under his influence—all who are weak and foolish enough to listen to him—as miserable as himself. He has completely broken down in his practical career; he has succumbed to the difficulties of his time, and proved himself wholly unequal to meet the stern realities of actual life. And then, instead of seeing and confessing this, he retires into his own narrow circle, and finds fault with everyone except himself.

How truly delightful and refreshing to turn from this dismal picture to the only perfect Man that ever trod this earth! His path was indeed an isolated one—none more so. He had no sympathy with the scene around Him. " The world knew him not." " He came unto his own [Israel], and his own received him not." " He looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but he found none." Even His own beloved disciples failed to sympathize with, or understand Him. They slept on the mount of transfiguration, in the presence of His glory; and they slept in the garden of Gethsemane, in the presence of His agony. They roused Him out of His sleep with their unbelieving fears, and were continually intruding upon Him with their ignorant questions and foolish notions.

How did He meet all this? In perfect grace, patience, and tenderness. He answered their questions; He corrected their notions; He hushed their fears; He solved their difficulties; He met their need; He made allowance for their infirmities; He gave them credit for devotedness in the moment of desertion; He looked at them through His own loving eyes, and loved them, notwithstanding all. " Having loved his own which were in the world, he loved them unto the end."

Christian reader, let us seek to drink into our blessed Master's spirit, and walk in His footsteps; and then our isolation will be of the right kind, and though our path may be narrow, the heart will be large.

Israel and the Nations

It would greatly tend to give clearness and definiteness to missionary effort to keep fully before our minds God's original purpose in sending the gospel to the Gentiles, or nations. This we have stated in the most distinct manner in Acts 15 " Simeon hath declared," says James, "how God at the first did visit the Gentiles, to take out of them a people for his name."

Now nothing can be simpler than this. It affords no warrant whatsoever for the idea so persistently held by the professing church, namely, that the whole world is to be converted by the preaching of the gospel. Simeon knew quite well that such was not God's object in visiting the Gentiles; but simply to take out of them a people for His name. The two things are as distinct as any two things can be—indeed they stand in direct opposition. To convert all the nations is one thing; to take out of the nations a people is quite another.

The latter, and not the former, is God's present object. It is what He has been doing since the day that Simon Peter opened the kingdom of heaven to the Gentile in Acts 10; and it is what He will continue to do until the moment so rapidly approaching, in which the last elect one is gathered out, and our Lord shall come to receive His people unto Himself.

Let all missionaries remember this. They may rest assured it will not clip their wings, or cripple their energies; it will only guide their movements, by giving them a divine aim and object. Of what possible use can it be for a man to propose as the end of his labors something wholly different from that which is before the mind of God? Ought not a servant seek to do his master's will? Can he expect to please his master by running directly counter to his clearly expressed object?

Now, clearly, it is not God's purpose to convert the world by the preaching of the gospel. He only means " to take out a people." True it is, blessedly true, that all the earth shall yet be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. There is no question as to this. All scripture bears witness to it. To quote the passages would literally fill a volume. All Christians are agreed on this point, and hence there is no need to adduce evidence.

But the question is, how is this grand and glorious result to be brought about? Is it the purpose of God to use the professing church as His agent, or a preached gospel as His instrument, in the conversion of the world? Scripture says No; and says it with an emphasis and a clearness which ought to sweep away every doubt and difficulty.

And here let it be distinctly understood that we delight in all true missionary effort. We heartily wish God's speed to every true missionary—to everyone who has left home, and kindred, and friends, and all the comforts and privileges of civilized life, in order to carry the glad tidings of salvation into the dark places of the earth. And, further, we desire to render hearty thanks to God for all that has been accomplished in the fields of foreign mission; though we cannot by any means approve the mode by which the work is carried on, or the great root principle of missionary societies. We consider there is a lack of simple faith in God, and of subjection to the authority of Christ, and the guidance of the Holy Ghost. There is too much of mere human machinery, and looking to the world for aid.

But all this is beside our present mark. We are not now discussing the principle of missionary organization, or the various appliances adopted for the carrying on of missionary operation. The point with which we are occupied in this brief paper is this—will God make use of the professing church to convert the nations? We ask not, has He done so? for, were we to put the question thus, we should receive an unqualified negative from all the ends of the earth. What! Christendom convert the world! Alas! alas! she is herself the darkest moral blot in the universe of God, and a grievous stumbling-block in the pathway of both Jew and Gentile. The professing church has been at work for eighteen long centuries; and what is the result? Let the reader take a glance at a missionary map, and he will see in a moment. Look at those large patches of black, designed to set forth the dismal regions over which heathenism bears sway. Look at the red, the green, the yellow, setting forth popery, the Greek church, Mahometanism. And where is—we say not true Christianity, but even mere nominal Protestantism? That is indicated by those tiny spots of blue which, if all put together, would make but a very small fraction indeed. And as to what this Protestantism is in its best estate we need not now stop to inquire.

But, we ask, is it the revealed purpose of God to make use of the professing church in any way to convert the nations? If it be so, we admit at once that, spite of the most discouraging appearances, we must believe and hope. We freely grant that the true way in which to test any principle is not by results, but simply by the word of God.

What, then, say the scriptures on the great question of the conversion of the nations? Take, for example, the lovely psalm that stands at the head of this paper. It is but one proof among a thousand, but it is a most striking and beautiful one, and we need hardly say it perfectly harmonizes with the testimony of all scripture, from Genesis to Revelation. We cannot refrain from giving it at full length to the reader.

" God be merciful unto us, and bless us; and cause his face to shine upon us. That thy way may be known upon earth, thy saving health among all nations. Let the people praise thee, Ο God; let all the people praise thee. Ο let the nations be glad, and sing for joy: for thou shalt judge the people righteously, and govern the nations upon earth. Let the people praise thee, Ο God, let all the people praise thee. Then shall the earth yield her increase; and God, even our own God, shall bless us. God shall bless us, and all the ends of the earth shall fear him."

Here, then, the simple truth shines before us with remarkable force and beauty. It is when God shall have mercy upon Israel—when He shall cause His light to shine upon Zion—then, and not until then, will His way be known upon earth, His saving health among all nations. It is through Israel, and not through the professing church, that God will yet bless the nations.

That the "us" of the foregoing psalm refers to Israel, no intelligent reader of scripture needs to be told. Indeed, as we all know, the great burden of the psalms, the prophets, and the entire of the Old Testament, is Israel. There is not a syllable about the church from cover to cover of the Old Testament. Types and shadows there are in which—now that we have the light of the New Testament—we can see the truth of the church prefigured. But without that light no one could, by any possibility, find the truth of the church in Old Testament scripture. That great mystery was, as the inspired apostle tells us, "hid"—not in the scriptures, for whatever is contained in the scriptures is no longer hid, but revealed—but it was " hid in God and was not, and could not, be revealed until Christ, being rejected by Israel, was crucified, and raised from the dead. So long as the testimony to Israel was pending, the doctrine of the church could not be unfolded. Hence, although at the day of Pentecost we have the fact of the church, yet it was not until Israel had rejected the testimony of the Holy Ghost in Stephen that a special witness was called out in the person of Saul, to whom the doctrine of the church was committed. We must distinguish between the fact and the doctrine; indeed it is not until we reach the last chapter of the Acts that the curtain finally drops upon Israel; and Paul, the prisoner at Borne, fully unfolds the grand mystery of the church which from ages and generations had been hid in God, but was now made manifest. Let the reader ponder Romans 16:25, 26; Ephesians 3:1-11; Colossians 1:24-27.

We cannot attempt to go fully into this glorious subject here; indeed, to refer to it at all is a digression from our present line. But we deem it needful just to say thus much, in order that the reader may fully see that Psalm 67 refers to Israel; and, seeing this, the whole truth will flow into his soul that the conversion of the nations stands connected with Israel, and not with the church. It is through Israel, and not through the church, that God will yet bless the nations. It is His eternal purpose that the seed of Abraham, His friend, shall yet be pre-eminent in the earth, and that all nations shall be blessed in and through them. " Thus saith the Lord of hosts, In those days it shall come to pass, that ten men shall take hold, out of all languages of the nations, even shall take hold of the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, We will go with you; for we have heard that God is with you." Zech. 8:23.

There is no need to multiply proofs. All scripture bears witness to the truth that God's present object is not to convert the nations, but to take out of them a people for His name; and, further, that when these nations shall be brought in—as they most assuredly shall—it will not be by the instrumentality of the church at all, but by that of the restored nation of Israel.

It would be an easy and a delightful task to prove from the New Testament, that, previous to the restoration and blessing of Israel, and therefore, a priori, previous to the conversion of the nations, the true church of God, the body of Christ, shall have been taken up to be forever with the Lord, in the full and ineffable communion of the Father's house; so that the church will not be God's agency in the conversion of the Jews as a nation, any more than in that of the Gentiles. But we do not desire at this time to do more than establish the two points above stated, which we deem of much interest and importance in reference to the grand object of missionary operations. When missionary societies propose for their object the conversion of the world, they propose a palpable mistake. And when Christendom imagines that she is to be God's instrument in converting the nations, it is simply a delusion and an empty conceit. Hence, therefore, let all who go forth as missionaries see that they are ruled in their blessed work by a divine object, and, further, that they are pursuing that object in a divinely-appointed way.

John the Baptist

It is not our object, in the following pages, to dwell upon the ministry of the Baptist; nor yet upon the place which he filled in the history of God's dealings with Israel, deeply interesting as all this might be, and profitable too, inasmuch as his ministry was at once solemn and powerful, and his dispensational position full of the very deepest interest. But we must, for the present, confine ourselves to two or three of his utterances as recorded by the Holy Ghost in the Gospel of John, in which we shall find two things very strikingly presented to our view, namely, his estimate of himself, and his estimate of his Lord.

Now these arc, assuredly, points worthy of our attention. John the Baptist was, according to the testimony of his blessed Master, the greatest " among them that are born of women." This is the very highest testimony that could be borne to any one, whether we consider the source from which it emanated, or the terms in which it is couched. He was not only a prophet, but the greatest of prophets—the forerunner of the Messiah—the harbinger of the King- the great preacher of righteousness.

Such was John, officially; and hence it must be of the deepest interest to know what such an one thought of himself, and what he thought of Christ—to hearken to his fervent utterances on both these points, as given on the page of inspiration. Indeed we shall find herein a mine of most precious practical instruction.

Let us turn to the first chapter of John's Gospel, and read at the nineteenth verse.

"And this is the record of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, Who art thou? And he confessed, and denied not; but confessed, I am not the Christ. And they asked him, What then? Art thou Elias? And he saith, I am not. Art thou that prophet? And he answered, No. Then said they unto him, Who art thou? that we may give an answer to them that sent us. What sayest thou of thyself? He said, I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness."

They were determined to have an answer; and he gives them one. They would compel him to speak of himself; and he does so. But mark his answer—mark his words! Who or what was he? Nobody. He was only " a voice." This is morally lovely. The self-emptiness of this most honored servant is perfectly beautiful. It does the heart good to be brought in contact with such practical grace as this. Here was a man of real power and dignity, one of Christ's most illustrious servants, occupying the very highest position, whose preaching had stirred the hearts of thousands, whoso birth had been announced by angels, whose ministry had been foretold by prophets, the herald of the kingdom, the friend of the King—and yet this remarkable man, when forced to speak of himself, can merely be induced to say, " I am a voice." Not even a man; but only a voice.

What a lesson is here for us! What a wholesome corrective for our lamentable self-occupation, self-complacency, and self-exaltation. It is truly wonderful to think of the Baptist's brilliant career, of his powerful ministry, of his widespread influence, extending even to the heart of Herod the king, of the place he occupied, and the work he did, and yet, notwithstanding all this, when forced to give out what he had to say of himself, he sums it all up in that one self-emptied word, "A voice."

This, we must confess, contains, in its brief compass, a volume of deep practical instruction for the heart. It is precisely what is needed, in this day of busy self-importance—needed by each—needed by all; for have we not, each and all, to judge ourselves on the ground of our inordinate tendency to think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think? Are we not all prone to attach importance to any little work with which we ourselves happen to stand connected? Alas! it is even so, and hence it is that we so deeply need the wholesome teaching furnished by the lovely self-emptiness of John the Baptist, who, when challenged to speak of himself, could retire into the shade and say, " I am only a voice."

Now this was a very remarkable answer to fall on the ears of Pharisees, of whom were the messengers that were sent to question the Baptist, as we read, " They which were sent were of the Pharisees." Surely it is not without meaning that this fact is stated. Pharisees know but little of self-hiding or self-emptiness. Such rare and exquisite fruits do not thrive beneath the withering atmosphere of Pharisaism. They only grow in the new creation, and there is no Pharisaism there. Pharisaism, in all its phases and in all its grades, is the moral antipodes, the direct opposite of self-abnegation, and therefore John's reply must have sounded strange in the ears of the questioners.

" And they asked him, and said unto him, Why baptizest thou then, if thou be not that Christ, nor Elias, neither that prophet? John answered them, saying, I baptize with water: but there standeth one among you, whom ye know not; he it is, who coming after me is preferred before me, whose shoe's latchet I am not worthy to unloose."

Thus, the more this dear servant of Christ is forced to speak of himself, or of his work, the more he retires into the shade. When asked about himself, he says " I am a voice." When asked about his work, he says, " I am not worthy to unloose my Master's shoe-latchet." There is no puffing off or exalting of self; no making much ado of his service, no parading of his work. The greatest of prophets was, in his own eyes, merely a voice—the most honored of servants deemed himself unworthy to touch his Master's shoe.

All this is truly refreshing and edifying. It is most healthful for the soul to breathe such an atmosphere as this in a day like the present of so much contemptible egotism and empty pretension, John was a man of real power, real worth, real gift and grace; and therefore he was a lowly unpretending man. It is generally thus. The really great men are fond of the shade, and, if they must speak of themselves, they make short work of it. David never spoke of his wonderful feat with the lion and the bear until compelled to do so by Saul's unbelief. Paul never spoke of his rapture to paradise till it was drawn forth by the folly of the Corinthians; and when forced to speak of himself or his work, lie apologizes, and says, again and again, "I speak as a fool."

Thus it is ever. True worth is modest and retiring. The Davids, the Johns, and the Pauls have delighted to retire behind their Master, and lose sight of themselves in the blaze of His moral glory. This was their joy. Here they found and ever shall find their deepest, fullest, richest blessing. The very highest and purest enjoyment which the creature can taste is to lose sight of self in the immediate presence of God. Oh! to know more of it! It is what we want. It would effectually deliver us from the tendency to be occupied with, and influenced by, the thoughts and opinions of men; and it would impart a moral elevation to the character, and a holy stability to the course which, assuredly, are for the glory of God and our souls' true peace and blessing.

But we must gather up further instruction from the history of John the Baptist. Let the reader turn to John 3:25: " Then there arose a question between some of John's disciples and the Jews about purifying." There were questions then, as there are, alas! questions now, for our hearts are full of questions. "And they came unto John, and said unto him, Rabbi, he that was with thee beyond Jordan, to whom thou barest witness, behold, the same baptizeth, and all men come to him."

Here was something calculated to test the heart of the Baptist. Could he bear to lose all his disciples? Was he prepared for desertion? Was he realty up to the height of his own words? Was he merely a voice, a nothing, and a nobody? These were pertinent questions; for we all know it is one thing to talk humbly, and another thing to be humble. It is one thing to speak about self-emptiness, and quite another to be self-emptied.

Was the Baptist, then, up to the mark? Was he prepared to be superseded and set aside? Was it of any moment to him who did the work provided the work was done? Hearken to his reply: " John answered and said, A man can receive nothing, except it be given him from heaven." This is a great practical truth. Let us seize it and hold it fast. It is an effectual remedy for self-confidence and self-exaltation. If a man can " take unto himself" nothing—if he can do nothing—if he is nothing, it ill becomes him to be boastful, pretentious, or self-occupied. The abiding sense of our own nothingness would ever keep us humble. The abiding sense of God's goodness would over keep us happy. " Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights." The remembrance of this would ever keep us looking up. Whatever good there is in us, or around us, comes from heaven—conies from God—the living and ever flowing source of all goodness and blessedness. To be near Him, to have Him before the heart, to serve in His holy presence, is the true secret of peace, the unfailing safeguard against envy and jealousy.

The Baptist knew something of this, and hence he had an answer ready for his disciples. "A man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven. Ye yourselves bear me witness that I said, I am not the Christ, but that I am sent before him. He that hath the bride is the bridegroom: but the friend of the bridegroom, which standeth and heareth him, rejoiceth greatly because of the bridegroom's voice. This my joy therefore is fulfilled. He must increase, but I must decrease."

Here lay the deep and precious secret of John's happiness and peace. His joy was not in his own work, not in gathering a number of disciples round himself, not in the success or acceptableness of his ministry, not in his personal influence or popularity) not in any or all of these things put together. His pure and holy joy was to stand and hear the voice of the Bridegroom, and to see others, to see his own disciples, to see all, flocking to that blessed One, and finding all their springs in Him.

" This is my joy, which ne'er can fail, To see my Savior's arm prevail, And mark His steps of grace; Now new-born souls convinced of sin, His blood revealed to them within, Extol the Lamb in every place."

Such, then, was the Baptist's estimate of himself and of his Lord. As to himself, he was but a voice, and must decrease. As to his Lord, He was the Bridegroom; He was from heaven; he was above all; the center of all; whose glory must increase and fill with its blessed beams the whole universe of God, when all other glory shall have faded away forever.

But we have further testimony from the lips of this beloved and honored servant of God—testimony, moreover, drawn forth, not by any " question" about purifying—or any appeal to his personal feelings on the subject of his minister; but simply by his intense admiration of Christ as an object for his own heart. " The next day John seeth Jesus coming unto him and saith, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world. This is he of whom I said, After me cometh a man which is preferred before me: for he was before me. And I knew him not; but that he should be made manifest to Israel, therefore am I come baptizing with water. And John bare record, saying, I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him. And I knew him not: but he that sent me to baptize with water, the same said unto me, Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending, and remaining on him, the same is he which baptizeth with the Holy Ghost. And I saw, and bare record that this is the Son of God. Again the next day after John stood, and two of his disciples; and looking upon Jesus as he walked, he saith, Behold the Lamb of God." John 1:29-36.

Here was what occupied John's heart. The Lamb of God. Peerless, precious object é Satisfying portion! Christ Himself—His work—His Person. In verse 29 we have one great branch of His work; " He taketh away the sin of the world." His atoning death is the foundation of everything. It is the propitiation for His people's sins; and for the whole world. In virtue of this precious sacrifice, every stain is removed from the believer's conscience; and in virtue thereof every stain shall yet be obliterated from the whole creation. The cross is the divine pedestal on which the glory of God and the blessedness of man shall rest forever.

Then in verse 33 we have another branch of Christ's work. " He baptizeth with the Holy Ghost." This was made good on the day of Pentecost, when the Holy Ghost came down from the risen and glorified Head to baptize believers into one body. We do not attempt to enter upon these weighty subjects here, inasmuch as our object is to present to the heart of the reader the great practical effect of occupation with Christ Himself—the only true object of all believers. This effect comes very strikingly out in the following verses. " Again the next day after John stood, and two of his disciples; and looking upon Jesus as he walked, he saith, Behold the Lamb of God." Verses 35, 36.

Here the Baptist is wholly engrossed with the Person of his Lord, and hence we have no reference to His work. This is a point of the deepest possible interest and moment.

" John stood"—fixed—riveted—gazing upon the most glorious object that had ever fixed the gaze of men or angels—the object of the Father's delight and of heaven's adoration—" the Lamb of God." And mark the effect. " The two disciples heard him speak, and they followed Jesus." They felt, no doubt, that there must be something peculiarly attractive in One who could so command their master's heart, and therefore, leaving him, they attached themselves to that glorious Person of whom he spoke.

This is full of instruction for us. There is immense moral power in true occupation of heart with Christ, and in the testimony which flows from thence. The positive enjoyment of Christ; feeding upon, and delighting in Him; the heart going out, in holy adoration, after Him; the affections centered in Him; these are the things that tell powerfully upon the hearts of others, because they tell upon our own hearts and ways. A man who is finding His delight in Christ is lifted out of himself, and lifted above the circumstances and influences which surround him. Such an one is morally elevated above the thoughts and opinions of men; he enjoys a holy calmness and independence; he is not thinking about himself, or seeking a name or a place for himself. He has found a satisfying portion, and is therefore able to tell the world that he is wholly independent of it. Was John troubled by the loss of his disciples? Nay, it was the joy of his heart to see them finding their center and their object where he had found his own. He had not sought to make a party, or to gather disciples around himself. He had borne witness to another, and that other was " the Lamb of God," in whom he himself delighted, not only because of His work, but because of His worth—His moral glory—His intrinsic, peerless, divine excellence. He heard the Bridegroom's voice and saw His face, and his joy was full.

Now we may well inquire, What can the world offer to a man whose joy is full? What can circumstances, what can the creature do for him? If men slight and desert him; if they wound and insult him—what then? Why, he can say, " My joy is full. I have found all I want in that blessed One who not only has taken away my sins and filled me with the Holy Ghost, but who has drawn me to Himself and filled me with His own divine preciousness and eternal excellency."

Reader, let us earnestly seek to know more of this deep blessedness. Rest assured we shall find therein an effectual cure for the thousand and one ills that afflict us in the scene through which we are passing. How is it that professors so often exhibit a morose and unlovely temper? Why are they peevish, fretful, and irritable in the domestic life? Why so ruffled and put about by the petty annoyances of their daily history? Why so easily upset by the most contemptible trifles? Why put out of temper if the dinner be not properly and punctually served up? Why so touchy and tenacious? Why so ready to take offense if self be touched or its interests intruded upon? Ah! the answer is easily given. The poor heart is not finding its center, its satisfying portion, in " the Lamb of God." Here lies the secret of our failure. The moment we take our eye off Christ—the moment we cease to abide in Him by a living faith, that moment we get under the power of every passing current of circumstances and influences; we become feeble and lose our balance; self and its surroundings rise into prominence and fill the heart's vision; and thus, instead of exhibiting the beautiful features of the image of Christ, we exhibit the very reverse, even the odious and humiliating tempers and dispositions of unsubdued nature.

May God enable us to lay these things seriously to heart, for we may depend upon it that serious damage is clone to the cause of Christ, and grievous dishonor brought upon His holy name by the uncomely manners, tempers, and ways of those who profess to belong to Him.

Jonathan

(1 Sam. 18:1-4.)

" And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David: and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.... Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved Mm as his own soul. And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him, and gave it to David, and Ids garments, even to Ids sword, and to his how, and to Ids girdle."

What an exquisite picture we have here! A picture of love stripping itself to clothe its object. There is a vast difference between Saul and Jonathan in this scene. Saul took David home with him in order to magnify himself by keeping such an one about his person and in his house. But Jonathan stripped himself to clothe David. This was love in one of its charming activities. Jonathan, in common with the many thousands of Israel, had watched, with breathless interest, the scene in the valley of Elah. He had seen David go forth, single handed, to meet the terrible foe whose height, demeanor, and words had struck terror into the hearts of the people. He had seen that haughty giant laid low by the hand of faith. He participated with all in the splendid victory.

But there was more than this. It Was not merely the victory but the victor that filled the heart of Jonathan—not merely the work done, but the one who had done it. Jonathan did not rest satisfied with saying, " Thank God, the giant is dead, and we are delivered, and may return to our homes and enjoy ourselves." Ah! no; he felt his heart drawn and knit to the person of the conqueror. It was not that he valued the victory less, but he valued the victor more, and hence he found his joy in stripping himself of his robes and his armor in order to put them upon the object of his affection.

Christian reader, there is a lesson here for us; and not only a lesson but a rebuke. How prone are we to be occupied with redemption rather than the Redeemer—with salvation rather than with the Savior! No doubt we should rejoice in our salvation; but should we rest here? Should we not, like Jonathan, seek to strip ourselves in order to magnify the Person of Him who went down into the dust of death for us? Assuredly we should, and all the more because He does not exact aught of us. David did not ask Jonathan for his robe or his sword. Had he done so, it would have robbed the scene of all its charms. But no; it was a purely voluntary act. Jonathan forgot himself and thought only of David. Thus it should be with us and the true David. Love delights to strip itself for its object. " The love of Christ constraineth us." And again. " But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung that I may win Christ." Phil, iii. 7, 8.

Oh! for more of this spirit! May our hearts be drawn out and knit, more and more, to Christ, in this day of hollow profession, and empty, religious formality! May we be so filled with the Holy Ghost, that with purpose of heart we may cleave unto our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!

The Judgment Seat of Christ

We have lately received communications from various friends, in which they earnestly seek light as to the solemn subject of the judgment seat of Christ; and as it is more than probable that many others may be exercised on the same point, we are unwilling to give it a hasty notice in our answers to correspondents.

One dear friend writes thus: "I am, at present, in a difficulty. It is this: a very dear friend has, for some time past, been very unhappy in the thought that, at the judgment seat of Christ, every secret thought and every motive of the heart will be made manifest to all there. She has no fears or doubts as to her eternal salvation, or the forgiveness of her sins; but she shrinks with horror from the thought of having the secrets of her heart manifested to all there."

Another writes as follows: " Remembering those blessed and eternally-important truths in John 5:24 John 1:7-9, ii. 12; Heb. 10:1-17,1 wish to know how you understand the following texts, which I shall transcribe in full, in order to point out the particular words to which I refer.

"'For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.' (2 Cor. 5:10.) 'So then every one of us shall give account of himself to God.' (Rom. 14:12.) But he that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong he hath done: and there is no respect of persons.' Col. 3:24, 25.

" It is on the above texts that I am anxious to be correct as to interpretation and application; and I have thought it probable that you would not regard it as trespassing on your time, if I were to ask your opinion on the subject."

We have been much interested, of late, in looking into the various reasons of the perplexity which seems to prevail in reference to the solemn subject of "The judgment seat of Christ.'' The very passages which our correspondent quotes are so plain, so pointed, and so definite on the question, that we have only just to take them as they stand, and allow them to have their due weight upon the heart and conscience. " We must all be manifested before the judgment seat of Christ." " Every one of us must give account of himself to God." " He that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong he hath done."

These are plain statements. Should we desire to weaken their force—to blunt their edge—to turn away their point? God forbid! We should rather seek to make a holy use of them by keeping a pressure upon nature, in all its vanities, lusts, and tempers. The Lord intended we should use them thus. He never intended that we should use them, in a legal way, to shake our confidence in Christ and his full salvation. We shall never come into judgment as to our sins. John 5:24; Rom. 8:1; 1 John 4:17, are conclusive as to that point. But then our services must come under the Master's eye. Every man's work shall be tried of what sort it is. The day will make everything manifest. All this is very solemn, and should lead to great watchfulness and carefulness as to our works, ways, thoughts, words, motives, and desires. The deepest sense of grace, and the clearest apprehension of our perfect justification as sinners, will never weaken our sense of the deep solemnity of the judgment seat of Christ, or lessen our desire so to walk as that we may be accepted of Him.

It is well to see this. The apostle labored that he might be accepted. He kept his body under lest he should be disapproved of. Every saint should do the same. We are already accepted in Christ, and as such, we labor to be accepted of Him. We should seek to give every truth its proper place, and the way to do this, is to be much in the presence of God, and to view each truth in immediate connection with Christ. There is always a danger of making such a use of one truth as, practically, to displace some other truth. This should be carefully guarded against. We believe there will be a full manifestation of every one and everything before the judgment seat of Christ. Everything will come out there. Things that looked very brilliant and praiseworthy, and that made a great noise amongst men, down here, will all be burned up as so much "wood, hay, and stubble." Things that were blazed abroad, and made use of to surround the names of men with a halo of human applause, will all be submitted to the searching action of " the fire," and, it may be, very much of them reduced to ashes. The counsels of all hearts will be made manifest. Every motive, every purpose, every design will be weighed in the balances of the sanctuary. The fire will try every man's work, and nothing will be stamped as genuine save that which has been the fruit of divine grace in our hearts. All mixed motives will be judged, condemned, and burnt up. All prejudices, all erroneous judgments, all evil surmisings concerning others—all these and such like things will be exposed and cast into the fire. We shall see things then as Christ sees them, judge them as He judges them. No one will be better pleased than myself to see all my stubble consumed. Even now, as we grow in light, knowledge, and spirituality, as we get nearer and liker to Christ, we heartily condemn many things which we once deemed all right. How much more shall we do so when we stand in the full blaze of the light of the judgment seat of Christ?

Now, what should be the practical effect of all this upon the believer? To make him doubt his salvation? To leave him in a state of uncertainty as to whether he is accepted or not? To make him question his relationship to God in Christ? Surely not. What then? To lead him to walk in holy carefulness, from day to day, as under the eye of his Lord and Master—to produce watchfulness, sobriety, and self-judgment—to super induce faithfulness, diligence, and integrity in all his services and all his ways.

Take a simple illustration. A father leaves home for a time, and, when taking leave of his children, he appoints a certain work to be done, and a certain line of conduct to be adopted during his absence. Now, when he returns, he may have to praise some for their faithfulness and diligence, while he blames others for the very reverse. But does he disown the latter? Does he break the relationship? By no means. They are just as much his children as the others, though he faithfully points out their failure and censures them for it. If they have been biting and devouring one another, instead of doing his will; if one has been judging another's work instead of attending to his own; if there has been envy and jealousy instead of an earnest hearty carrying out of the father's intentions—all these things will meet with merited censure. How could it be otherwise?

But then some, like our correspondent's friend, 'shrink with horror from the thought of having the secrets of the heart manifested to all there.' Well, the Holy Ghost declares that " The Lord will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and make manifest the counsels of the heart: and then shall every man have praise of God." 1 Cor. 4; 5 He does not say to whom they shall be manifested; nor does this, in the least, affect the question, inasmuch as every true-hearted person will be far more deeply concerned about the judgment of the Master than about the judgment of a fellow-servant. Provided I please Christ, I need not trouble myself much about man's judgment. And, on the other hand, if I am more troubled about the idea of having all my motives exposed to the view of man than I am about their being exposed to the view of Christ, it is plain there must be something wrong. It proves I am occupied about myself. I shrink from the exposure of " my secret motives." Then it is very plain that my secret motives are not right, and the sooner they are judged the better.

And, after all, what difference would it make, though all our sins and failures were made manifest to everybody? Are Peter and David a whit less happy because untold millions have read the account of their shameful fall? Surely not. They know that the record of their sins only magnifies the grace of God, and illustrates the value of the blood of Christ, and hence they rejoice in it. Thus it is in every case. If we were more emptied of self and occupied with Christ, we should have more simple and correct thoughts about the judgment seat as well as about everything else.

May the Lord keep our hearts true to Himself in this the time of His absence, so that when He appears we may not be ashamed before Him! May all our works be so begun, continued, and ended in Him, that the thought of having them duly weighed and estimated in the presence of His glory may not disturb our hearts'. May we be constrained by the " love of Christ," not by the fear of judgment, to live unto Him who died for us and rose again! We may safely and happily leave everything in His hands, seeing He has borne our sins in His own body on the tree. We have no reason to fear, inasmuch as we know that when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. The moment Christ appears we shall be changed into His image, pass into the presence of His glory, and there review the past. We shall look back from that high and holy elevation, upon our course down here. We shall see things in a different light altogether then. It may be we shall be astonished to find that many things, of which we thought a great deal down here, will be found defective up there; and, on the other hand, many little things which were done in self-forgetfulness, and love to Jesus, will be sedulously recorded, and abundantly rewarded. We shall also be able to see, in the clear light of the Master's presence, many mistakes and failures which had never before come within the range of our vision. What will be the effect of all this? Just to evoke from our hearts loud and rapturous hosannahs to the praise of Him, who has brought us through all our toils and dangers, borne with all our mistakes and failures, and assigned us a place in His own everlasting kingdom, there to bask in the bright beams of His glory, and shine in His image forever.

We shall not dwell further on this subject, just now; but we trust sufficient has been said to relieve the minds of those dear friends who have consulted us on the point. We shall ever regard it as a happy service to communicate with our readers on any question which may happen to present difficulty to their minds. We can truly say, our desire is that the Lord would make this little Magazine a channel of help and blessing to the souls of His people everywhere, and that the name of the Lord Jesus may be magnified.

The Law and the Gospel

Read Luke 10:25-35.

We now desire to dwell for a little upon two grand questions which are suggested and answered in our Lord's interview with the lawyer, namely, What is written in the law? What is revealed in the gospel? These questions have only to be named to secure the attention and awaken the interest of every intelligent and thoughtful reader. It is surely most needful to understand the object, the nature, and range of the law, and in no way can these things be so clearly seen as when examined in contrast with the glorious gospel of God's free grace in Christ. Let us, then, in the first place, proceed to inquire,

WHAT IS WRITTEN IN THE LAW?

This question may be very simply answered. The law reveals what man ought to do. This is what is written in the law. We often hear it said that “The law is the transcript of the mind of God.” This definition is altogether defective. What idea should we have of God, were we to regard “the ten words” uttered on the top of Mount Sinai, amid thunderings and lightnings, blackness, darkness and tempest, as the transcript of His mind? How should we know God, if it be true that “the ministration of death and condemnation, written and engraven in stones,” is the transcript of His mind? May we not, with great justice, inquire of the framers of the above most objectionable definition, “Is there nothing in the mind of God, save death and condemnation? Is there nothing in the mind of God, save “thou shalt,” and “thou shalt not”? “If there he more than these, then it is a mistake to affirm that “The law is the transcript of the mind of God.” If it be said that “The law declares the mind of God as to what man ought to do,” we have no objection to offer, for that is what we hold the law to be. But, then, let the reader remember that the declaration of what man ought to do, and the revelation of what God is, are two totally different things. The former is the law; the latter is the gospel. Both, we need hardly say, are perfect—divinely perfect, but they stand in vivid contrast; the one is perfect to condemn, the other is perfect to save.

But let us see how this point is unfolded in the scripture before us. “And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? He said unto him, what is written in the law? how readest thou? And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as thyself. And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.”

Now, it in no wise interferes with the teaching of this passage to say that the lawyer stood up with the wicked intention of tempting Christ, or that he could flippantly and unfeelingly repeat what was written in the law. What we have to see is this, that the great law-question, “What must I do?” is here proposed and answered. If a man is to get life by keeping the commandments, he must keep them. There is no mystery about this. It is so plain that the question is, “How readest thou?” A man has only to read the twentieth chapter of Exodus in order to know his duty toward God and his duty toward his neighbor.

But, then, dear reader, the solemn inquiry is, “Have I done my duty? have I loved God with all my heart, and my neighbor as myself”? Alas! alas! I have not; far—very far from it. I have proved, times without number, that I loved many things which are quite contrary to God; that I have indulged in lusts and pleasures which God condemns; that my will is most thoroughly opposed to God's will; that I hate the things which He loves, and love the things which He hates. In a word, then, it is perfectly manifest that I have not loved God with all my heart, yea, that I have not given Him a single affection of my heart. And as to my neighbor, have I loved him as myself? Have I, at all times, and under all circumstances, as sedulously sought to promote my neighbor's interests as though they were my own? Have I rejoiced as unfeignedly in his prosperity as in my own? I dare not answer in the affirmative. I have only to bow my head and confess that I have utterly and shamefully failed in my bounden duty, both toward God and toward my neighbor I own it, most fully, to be my duty to love God, with all my heart! and my neighbor as myself; but I own, as fully, that I have done neither the one nor the other.

What, then, can the law do for me? Curse me and slay me, on the spot. Is there no mercy? Not in the law. There is no mercy at Mount Sinai. If a man stands before that fiery mount, the tremendous alternative is duty or damnation. There is no middle ground. “This do, and thou shalt live” is the solemn, conclusive, and emphatic language of the law. “The man that doeth these things shall live in them,” but, on the other hand, “cursed is every one (without a single exception), that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them” (Gal. 3:10). “He that despised Moses' law died without mercy under two or three witnesses” (Heb. 10:28). The law makes no provision for imperfect obedience how ever sincere. It makes no allowance for infirmity. Its one brief, pointed inquiry is, “Have you continued in the things?” If you say no; (and who can say otherwise?) it can only curse you. And why? Because it is perfect. Were it to pass over a single transgression, it would not be what it is, namely, a perfect law. Its very perfection insures the condemnation of the transgressor. As many as are of works of law, (that is, as many as work on the principle, stand on the ground, occupy the platform, of works of law) are under the curse,” and cannot possibly be anything else. This establishes the point unanswerably. The law can only prove to be a ministration of death and condemnation to the sinner simply because he is a sinner, and “the law is holy, and just, and good.” It is no use for a man to say, “I am not looking to the law for life or justification, but merely as a rule, and for sanctification.” As a rule for what? For the sanctification of what? If you say, “for my old nature,” the answer is, so far from being “a rule of life,” it is “a ministration of death,” and so far from sanctifying the flesh, it condemns it, root and branch. If, on the other hand, you say it is for the new nature, then is your mistake equally obvious, inasmuch as the apostle expressly declares that “the law is not made for a righteous man” (1 Tim. 1:9).

This is plain enough for any one who is content to take the holy scriptures as his guide. The law can neither be the ground of life nor the rule of life to a fallen creature; neither can it be the ground of righteousness nor the power of sanctification. “By deeds of law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin” (Rom. 3:20). This one passage is conclusive both as to justification and sanctification. No flesh can be justified in God's sight by the law; and as to sanctification, how can I ever become holy by means of that which only shows me my unholiness? If I measure a short web by a true measure I must prove it short. A true measure cannot make a short web the proper length, it can only show what it is. Just so with the law and the sinner. Again, “The law worketh wrath” (Rom. 4:15). How is this? Just because it is pure and I am impure. The law and the sinner are perfect opposites — wholly irreconcilable. I must get a new nature, stand upon new ground, be in the new creation, before I can delight in the law of God. “I delight in the law of God, after the inward man” (Rom. 7:22). But how do I get this “inward man,” this new nature? How do I get into the new creation? Not by works of law of any shape or description, but by faith of Jesus Christ. I become united to Christ in the power of a new and endless life, upon which the law has no claim. I died in Christ, and hence the law has no further demand on me. If a man is in prison for murder, and dies there, the law is done with him, inasmuch as the life in which the crime was committed is gone. Thus it is with the sinner who believes in Jesus. God sees him to be dead. His old man is crucified. The sentence of the law has been put into execution upon him in the Person of Christ. Had it been executed upon himself, it would have been death eternal; but having been executed upon Christ, His death is of infinite, divine, and eternal efficacy; and, moreover, having the power of eternal life in Himself, He rose, as a Conqueror, from the tomb, after having met every claim, and — wonderful to declare I the believer, having died in Him, now lives in Him forever. Christ is his life; Christ is his righteousness; Christ is his rule of life; Christ is his model; Christ is his hope; Christ is his all and in all. See carefully Romans 6 and 7; Galatians 2:20-21; Galatians 3-4; Ephesians 2:4-6; Colossians 2:10-15.

But we must not anticipate what properly belongs to the second grand division of our subject, to which we shall pass on, having first sought to meet a difficulty which may perhaps exercise our reader's mind. It is possible that some may feel disposed to inquire, “If the law cannot yield life, furnish righteousness, or promote sanctification, then for what end was it given?” The apostle anticipates and answers this question. “Wherefore then the law? it was added because of transgression, till the seed should come to whom the promise was made” (Gal. 3:19). So also, in Romans, we read, “Moreover, the law entered (or came in by the way, between the promise and the accomplishment) that the offense might abound” (Gal. 5:20). These two passages declare in simplest terms the object of the law. It is not said, “the law entered in order that we might get life, righteousness, or sanctification by it”; quite the opposite, it was “because of transgression,” and “that the offense might abound.” Where is it said in scripture that the law was given that we might get life, righteousness, or sanctification by it? Nowhere. But it is expressly declared that, “the law was added because of transgression,” and that “it came in by the way that the offense might abound.” It is not possible to conceive two objects more diverse. The legal system speaks of life, righteousness, and sanctification by law; the scripture, on the contrary, speaks of “offense,” “transgression,” and “wrath.” And why? Because we are sinners, and the law is holy. It demands strength, and we are weak; it demands life in order to keep it, and we are dead; it demands perfection in all things, and we are perfect in nothing; it is holy, and just, and good, and we are unholy, unjust, and bad. Thus it stands between us and the law; and it matters not in the least, as regards the principle of the law, whether we are regenerate or unregenerate, believers or unbelievers, saints or sinners. The law knows nothing of any such distinctions. It is addressed to man in the flesh, in his old-Adam condition, in his old-creation standing. It tells him what he ought to do for God, and, inasmuch as he has not done that, it curses him, and it cannot do anything else. It shows him no mercy! but leaves him in the place of death and condemnation.

Thus much as to “what is written in the law.” Let us now proceed to inquire, in the second place,

WHAT IS REVEALED IN THE GOSPEL?

This is unfolded with uncommon beauty and power, in the touching parable of “the good Samaritan.” The lawyer, like all legalists, “willing to justify himself,” sought to ascertain who was his neighbor; and, in reply, our blessed Lord draws a picture in which is most vividly presented the true condition of every sinner, be he lawyer or else. “A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead” What a picture of man's career and man's condition! “A certain man” — the writer or the reader of these lines, “went down.” How true! Reader, is it not so? Has not thy course ever been a downward one? Hast thou ever, when left to thyself, taken a step upward — a step in the right direction? There is no use in generalizing, in making statements about mankind, the whole human race, Adam's posterity, and the like. What we want is to bring the matter home to ourselves, and say, each for himself, “I am the ‘certain man’ of this singularly beautiful parable; it is my own very figure that appears in the foreground of this masterly picture; my course has been a downward one; I have gone down from the innocency of childhood, to the folly of youth, and from the folly of youth to the matured wickedness of manhood, and here I am, ‘stripped’ of every shred in which I might wrap myself; ‘wounded’ in every region of my moral being; and having the painful consciousness that death has already begun its terrible work in me.”

Such is the career, such the condition of every sinner —his career, downward — his condition, death. What is to be done? Can he keep the law? Alas! he is not able to move. Can the “priest” do aught for him? Alas! he has no sacrifice, and no ability to rise and get one. Can the “Levite” not help him? Alas! he is so polluted with his wounds and bruises that neither Levite nor priest could touch him. In a word, neither law nor ordinances can meet his case. He is utterly ruined. He has destroyed himself. The law has flung him overboard as a defiled, good-for-nothing, condemned thing. It is useless talking to him about the law, or asking him will he take it as a means of justification, a rule of life, or the power of sanctification. It has curbed, condemned, and set him aside altogether, and he has only to cry out from the profound and awful depths of his moral ruin, “Ο wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”

Now, it is when a man is really brought to this that he is in a position to see the moral grandeur of the gospel. It is when he has discovered his own guilt, misery, and ruin, and also his entire inability to meet the just and holy claims of the law, or profit, in any wise, by the appliances of the legal system in its most attractive forms, that he is prepared to appreciate the ample provisions of the grace of God. This is most strikingly illustrated in the scene before us. When the poor man had got down from Jerusalem to Jericho, from the city of God to the city of the curse (Josh. 6:26; 1 Kings 16:33-34) when he lay stripped, wounded, and half-dead; when both priest and Levite had turned from him and gone their way; it was just then that he was in a position to prove the grace of the good Samaritan who, assuredly, is none other than the blessed Lord Jesus Himself, who, blessed forever be His balmy, precious name! here appears in the form of a Samaritan only to enhance the grace that breathes forth upon our souls in this lovely scene. “The Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans,” and, hence, had the Jew in this parable had sufficient strength, he would not, we may safely aver, have suffered the stranger to touch him. But he was so far gone, so powerless, so under the power of death, that the gracious Samaritan had it all his own way. And oh! what a tender way it was!

“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was; and when he saw him, he had compassion, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.”

Here, then, is what is revealed in the gospel. Man has ruined himself. He has gone down from God. He has fallen under the power of the enemy. He is the victim of Satan, the slave of sin, the subject of death. His case is hopeless, so far as he is concerned. But, blessed be God, the true Samaritan has come down into all the ruin. The Son of God left His Father's bosom, His eternal dwelling-place, came down into this world, to remedy our ruin, to bear our guilt, to endure the wrath of God in our stead. All this he did, beloved reader, as the expression of His own tender compassion and love. “He had compassion,” and came to bind up our wounds, to pour “the wine and oil” of His own most precious grace into our souls, to heal, restore, and bless us, to put us into His own position, according to the power which had brought Him into ours, to make ample provision for all our need, until that bright and happy moment when we shall be ushered into His presence to go no more out forever.

The page of inspiration does not present a more touching picture than that which the Master's pencil has drawn for us in “The good Samaritan.” It is perfectly beautiful, and beautifully perfect. It is divine. Every expression is fraught with exquisite moral loveliness. “He came where he was”—not half-way, or nine-tenths of the way, but all the way. “And when he saw him,” what then? Did he turn away in disgust at his appearance, and despair of His condition? Ah! no; “He had compassion on him.” His tender heart yearned over him. He cared not what he was or who he was, Jew or Gentile, it mattered not; the streams of tender compassion came gushing up from the deep fountains of a heart that found its own delight in ministering to every form of human need. Nor was this “compassion” a mere movement of sentimentality — an evanescent feeling uttering itself in empty words and then passing away. No; it was a real, living, acting thing, expressing itself in the most unmistakable manner. “He went to him.” For what? To meet his every need, and not to leave him until he had placed him in a position of security, rest and blessing.

Nor was this all. Not only did this gracious stranger fully meet the wounded one's present need; but, ere leaving, he dropped these touching words, “Take care of him.” How this must have melted the poor man's heart. Such disinterested kindness! And all from a stranger! Yea, from one with whom he would naturally have “no friendly dealings.”

Finally, as if to complete the picture, he says, “when I come again.” He awakens in the heart, by these last words, “the blessed hope” of seeing him again. What a lovely picture! And yet it is all a divine reality. It is the simple story of our blessed Jesus who, in His tender compassion, looked upon us in our low and utterly hopeless condition, left His eternal dwelling-place of light and love, took upon Him the likeness of sinful flesh, was made of a woman, made under the law, lived a spotless life, and fulfilled a perfect ministry down here for three and thirty years, and, finally, died on the cross as a perfect atonement for sin, in order that God might be just and the Justifier of any poor, ungodly, convicted sinner that simply trusts in Jesus.

Yes, dear reader, whoever you are, high or low, rich or poor, learned or ignorant, Jesus has done all this; and He is now at the right hand of the Majesty in the heavens. The One who was nailed to the cross for us, is now on the throne. Eternal Justice has wreathed His sacred brow with the chaplet of victory, and that, be it remembered on our behalf. Nor is this all. He has said, “I will come again.” Precious words! Say, wouldst thou be glad to see Him? Dost thou know Him as the good Samaritan? Hast thou felt His loving hand binding up thy spiritual wounds? Hast thou known the healing virtues of His oil, and the restoring, invigorating, and cheering influence of His wine! Hast thou heard Him speak those thrilling words, “Take care of him”? If so, then, surely, thou wilt be glad to see His face: thou wilt cherish in thine heart's tender affections the blessed hope of seeing Him as He is, and of being like Him and with Him forever. The Lord grant it may be so with thee, beloved reader, and then thou wilt be able to appreciate the immense difference between the Law and the Gospel — between what we ought to do for God, and what God has done for us — between what we are to Him, and what He is to us — between “do and live” and “live and do” — between “the righteousness of the law” and “the righteousness of faith.”

May the blessing of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Spirit rest upon the reader of these lines, now, henceforth and for evermore!

Let Us Go Again

(Acts 15:30.)

" Let us go again and visit our brethren in every city where we have preached the word of the Lord, and see how they do." In a former number of this magazine, we presented to the notice of our readers, a motto for the evangelist, in the expression, " to preach the gospel in the regions beyond." This is the grand object of the evangelist, let his talents or sphere of action be what they may.

But, the pastor has his work as well as the evangelist; and we are desirous to furnish a motto for him likewise. Such a motto we have in the words, " let us go again:' We are not merely to regard this expression as the narrative of what was done, but a model of what ought to be done. If the evangelist is responsible to preach the gospel in the regions beyond, so long as there are regions to be evangelized; the pastor is responsible to "go again and visit his brethren," so long as there arc brethren to be visited. The evangelist forms the interesting connection; the pastor maintains and strengthens that connection. The one is the instrument of creating the beautiful link, the other of perpetuating it. It is quite possible that the two gifts may exist in the same person, as in Paul's case; but whether this be so or not, each gift has its own specific sphere and object. The business of the evangelist is to call out the brethren; the business of the pastor is to look after them. The evangelist goes, first, and preaches the word of the Lord; the pastor goes again and visits those upon whom that word has taken effect. The former calls out the sheep, the latter feeds and takes care of them.

The order of these things is divinely beautiful. The Lord would not gather out His sheep and leave them to wander uncared for and unfed. This would be wholly unlike His gracious, tender, thoughtful way. Hence, He not only imparts the gift whereby His sheep are to be called into existence, but also that whereby they arc to be fed and maintained. He has His own interest in them, and in every stage of their history. He watches over them, with intense solicitude, from the moment in which they hear the first quickening accents, until they are safely folded in the mansions above. His desire to gather the sheep tells itself forth in the large-heartedness of the expression, "the regions beyond;" and His desire for their well-being breathes in the words, "let us go again/' The two things are intimately connected. Wherever the word of the Lord has been preached and received, there you have the formation of mysterious, but real and most precious links between heaven and earth. The eye of faith can discern the most beauteous ]ink of divine sympathy between the heart of Christ in heaven, and "every city" where "the word of the Lord" has been preached and received. This is as true now, as it was eighteen hundred years ago. There may be many things to hinder our spiritual perception of this link; but it is there, for all that. God sees it, and faith sees it likewise. Christ has His eye-an eye beaming with intense interest, and radiant with tender love-upon every city, every town, every village, every street, every house in which His word has been received.

The assurance of this is most comforting to every one who feels that he has, in very deed, received the word of the Lord. Were we called upon to prove, from scripture, the truth of our assertion, we should do so by the following quotation: " And there was a certain disciple at Damascus, named Ananias; and to him said the Lord in a vision, Ananias. And he said, Behold, I am here, Lord. And the Lord said unto him, Arise and go into the street which is called Straight, and inquire in the house of Judas for one called Saul, of Tarsus: for behold he prayeth." (Acts 9:10, 11.) Can aught be more touching than to hear the Lord of glory giving, with such minuteness, the address of His newly-found sheep? He gives the street, the number, so to speak, and the very occupation, at the moment. His gracious eye takes in everything connected with each one of those for whom He gave His precious life. There is not a circumstance, however trivial, in the path of the very feeblest of His members, in which the blessed Lord Jesus is not interested. His name be praised for such a comforting assurance! May we be enabled to enter, more fully, into the reality and power of such a truth!

Now, our gracious Shepherd would fill the heart of each one acting under Him with His own tender care for the sheep; and He it was who animated the heart of Paul to express and carry out the design embodied in the words, " let us go again." It was the grace of Christ flowing down into the heart of Paul, and giving character and direction to the zealous service of that most devoted and laborious apostle.

And observe the force of the words " go again." It does not matter how often you may have been there before. It may be once, or twice, or thrice. This is not the question. " Let us go again," is the motto for the pastoral heart, for there is always a demand for the pastoral gift. Matters are ever and anon springing up, in the various places in which " the word of the Lord" has been preached and received, demanding the labors of the divinely-qualified pastor. This is, in an especial manner, true, in this day of spiritual poverty. There is immense demand-a demand on the evangelist, to think of "the regions beyond"-a demand on the pastor to " go again and visit his brethren, in every city" where "the word of the Lord" has been preached, " and see how they do."

Reader, do you possess aught of pastoral gift? If so, think, I pray you, of those comprehensive words, " let us go again." Have you been acting on them? Have you been thinking of your "brethren"-of those "who have obtained like precious faith"-those who, by receiving "the word of the Lord," have become spiritual brethren? Are your interests and sympathies engaged on behalf of "every city" in which a spiritual link has been formed with the Head above? Oh! how the heart longs for a greater exhibition of holy zeal and energy, of individual and independent devotedness-independent, I mean, not of the sacred fellowship of the truly spiritual, but of every influence which would tend to clog and hinder that elevated service to which each one is distinctly called, in responsibility to the Master alone. Let us beware of the trammels of cumbrous machinery, of religious routine, of false order. Let us beware, too, of indolence, of love of personal ease, of a false economy, which would lead us to attach an undue importance to the matter of expense. The silver and the gold are the Lord's, and His sheep are far more precious to Him than silver and gold. His own words are, " Lovest thou me? feed my sheep." And if only there is the heart to do this, the means will never be wanting. How often may we detect ourselves spending sums of money, unnecessarily, on the table, the wardrobe, and the library, which would be amply sufficient to carry us to "the regions beyond," to preach the gospel, or to " every city," in order to " visit our brethren!"

May the Lord grant unto us an earnest self-denying spirit, a devoted heart to Him and to His most holy service, a true desire for the spread of His gospel, and the prosperity of His people. May the time passed of our lives suffice us to have lived and labored for self and its interests, and may the time to come be given to Christ and His interests. Let us not allow our treacherous hearts to deceive us by plausible reasonings about domestic, commercial, or other claims. All such should be strictly attended to, no doubt. A well regulated mind will never offer to God a sacrifice arising out of the neglect of any just claim. If I am at the head of a family, the claims of that family must be duly responded to. If I am at the head of a business, the claims of that business must be duly met. If I am a hired servant, I must attend to my work, To fail in any of these, would be to dishonor the Lord, instead of serving Him.

But, allowing the widest possible margin for all righteous claims, let us ask, are we doing all we can for " the regions beyond," and for " our brethren, in every city where we have preached the word of the Lord?" Has there not been a culpable abandonment both of evangelistic and pastoral work? Have we not allowed domestic and commercial ties to act unduly upon us? And what has been the result? What have we gained? Have our children turned out well, and our commercial interests prospered? Has it not often happened that, where the Lord's work has been neglected, the children have grown up in carelessness and worldliness? And as to business, have we not often toiled all the night,, and gazed on an empty net in the morning? On the other hand, where the family and the circumstances have been left, with artless confidence, in the hand of Jehovah-jireh, have they not been far better cared for? Let these things be deeply pondered, with an honest heart and a single eye, and we shall be sure to arrive at just conclusions.

I cannot lay down the pen without calling the reader's attention to the fullness of the expression, " see how they do." How very much is involved in these words! " How they do," publicly, socially, privately. " How they do," in doctrine, in association, in walk. " How they do," spiritually, morally, relatively. In a word, " how they do," in every way; And, be it well remembered, that this seeing how our brethren do must never resolve itself into a curious, prying, gossiping, busybody spirit-a spirit that wounds and heals not, that meddles and mends not. To all who would visit us in such a spirit as this, we should, assuredly, say, "be ye far from hence." But, to all who would carry out Acts 15:36, we desire to say " our hands, our hearts, our houses are wide open; come in, ye blessed of the Lord. 'If ye have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my house and abide.'"

Ο Lord, be pleased to raise up evangelists to visit " the regions beyond," and pastors to visit, again and again, "the brethren in every city."

Loops of Blue

(Exod. 26:4.)

In contemplating the structure of the tabernacle in the wilderness, we may observe what an important place was assigned to the "loops of blue." By means of them and the " taches of gold," the curtains were joined together, and the manifested unity of the whole structure preserved. These loops and taches might seem to be very insignificant and unimportant; but, without them, there would have been no unity. The curtains, however beautiful in themselves, would have hung apart one from the other, and thus one grand feature of the manifestation would have been lost.

Now, looking at the tabernacle as a figure of Christ, as surely we may, we can easily trace the beauty and significance of those " loops of blue and taches of gold." They typified that perfect unity and consistency in the character and ways of " the Man Christ Jesus" which were the result of His heavenly grace and divine energy. In the life of the blessed Lord Jesus, and in all the scenes and circumstances of that life, we not only see each distinct phase and feature perfect in itself, but also a perfect combination of all those phases and features, by the power of that which was heavenly and divine in Him. The curtains of the true Tabernacle were not only beautiful in themselves, but they were beautifully combined-exquisitely linked together by means of those " loops of blue and taches of gold" which can oily be discerned and appreciated by those who are, in some measure, instructed in the holy mysteries of the sanctuary.

And let me add, that what is true of the Divine Living Word, is equally true of the divine written word. The spiritual student of holy scripture will readily discern the " loops of blue and taches of gold." This is only what we might expect. The Living Word is the divine embodiment of the written word; and the written word is the divine transcript of the Living Word. Hence, we may look for the same heavenly unity, the same divine consistency-the same rare and exquisite combination in both the one and the other. It would be, at once, pleasant and profitable to trace, in company with my reader, the various illustrations of the loops and taches, through the word of God; but to do this fully would demand a volume; whereas, at present, I have merely time and space for a brief suggestive fragment. I should, however, like to give an example or two from the written word which may perhaps lead him to study the subject for himself.

In 1 Cor. 16 we have a very lovely and a very practical illustration of our subject. At verse 13 the apostle says, " Quit you like men, be strong." Here we have one fine feature of the christian character-that manly strength which is so desirable. But this, if taken by itself, might easily degenerate into a rough, rude, high-handed way in dealing with others, the very opposite of what we find in our divine Exemplar. Hence the Spirit in the apostle forms a loop of blue, and by means of a golden tach, links on to this manly strength, another feature which is so needful, namely, charity. " Let all your things be done with charity." Most precious combination I Strength and charity. Charity and strength. If you untie this heavenly loop, you will either have a high, haughty, inconsiderate style, or a soft, pliable, enfeebled mode of acting which will sacrifice everything for peace and quietness.

Again, look at that noble definition of pure religion, given at the close of the second chapter of James. There the apostle uses the loop and tach in order to connect together the two phases of divine religion. " To visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction" is looped with unspotted separation from the world. In other words, active benevolence and personal holiness are inseparably linked together. Untie the loop, and what have you got? Either a sort of benevolence which can go hand in hand with the most intense spirit of worldliness; or a rigid pharisaic separation without a single generous emotion. It is only the presence of that which is heavenly and divine that can secure true unity and consistency of character. And, let it never be forgotten, that true Christianity is simply Christ reproduced, by the Holy Ghost, in the life of the Christian. Dry rules will never do; it must be Christ in all.

The Closing Scenes of Malachi and Jude: A Comparison of Last Days

In comparing these two inspired writings, we find many points of similarity and many points of contrast. Both the prophet and Apostle portray scenes of ruin, corruption, and apostasy. The former is occupied with the ruin of Judaism, the latter with the ruin of Christendom. The prophet Malachi, in his very opening sentences, gives with uncommon vividness the source of Israel's blessing and the secret of their fall. "I have loved you, saith the LORD." Here was the grand source of all their blessedness, all their glory, all their dignity. Jehovah's love accounts for all the bright glory of Israel's past, and all the brighter glories of Israel's future. While, on the other hand, their bold and infidel challenge, "Wherein hast Thou loved us?" accounts for the deepest depths of Israel's present degradation. To put such a question, after all that Jehovah had done for them from the days of Moses to the days of Solomon, proved a condition of heart insensible to the very last degree.

Those who with the marvelous history of Jehovah's actings before their eyes, could say, "Wherein hast Thou loved us?" were beyond the reach of all moral appeal. Hence, therefore, we need not be surprised at the prophet's burning words. We are prepared for such sentences as the following: "If then I be a father, where is Mine honor? and if I be a master, where is My fear? saith the LORD of hosts unto you, 0 priests, that despise My name. And ye say, Wherein have we despised Thy name?" There was the most thorough insensibility both as to the Lord's love, and as to their own evil ways. There was the hardness of heart that could say, "Wherein hast Thou loved us?" and, Wherein have we wronged Thee? And all this with the history of a thousand years before their eyes—a history overlapped by the unexampled grace, mercy, and patience of God—a history stained from first to last with the record of their unfaithfulness, folly, and sin.

But let us hearken to the prophet's further utterances, or rather to the touching remonstrance's of the aggrieved and offended God of Israel. "Ye offer polluted bread upon Mine altar; and ye say, Wherein have we polluted Thee?

In that ye say, The table of the LORD is contemptible. And if ye offer the blind for sacrifice, is it not evil? and if ye offer the lame and sick, is it not evil? offer it now unto thy governor; will he be pleased with thee, or accept thy person? saith the LORD of hosts... Who is there even among you that would shut the doors for naught? neither do ye kindle fire on Mine altar for naught. I have no pleasure in you, saith the LORD of hosts, neither will I accept an offering at your hand. For, from the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the same, My name shall be great among the Gentiles; and in every place incense shall be offered unto My name, and a pure offering: for My name shall be great among the heathen, said the LORD of hosts. But ye have profaned it, in that ye say, The table of the LORD is polluted; and the fruit thereof, even His meat, is contemptible. Ye said also, Behold, what a weariness is it! and ye have snuffed at it, saith the LORD of hosts; and ye brought that which was torn, and the lame, and the sick; thus ye brought an offering: should I accept this of your hand? saith the LORD."

Here then we have a sad and dreary picture of Israel's moral condition. The public worship of God had fallen into utter contempt. His altar was insulted; His service despised. As to the priests, it was a mere question of filthy lucre; and as to the people, the whole thing had become a perfect weariness—an empty formality—a dull and heartless routine. There was no heart for God. There was plenty of heart for gain. Any sacrifice, however maimed and torn, was deemed good enough for the altar of God. And if a door was to be opened, or a fire kindled, it must be paid for. Such was the lamentable condition of things in the days of Malachi.

But, thanks and praise be to God, there is another side of the picture. There were some rare and lovely exceptions to the gloomy rule—some striking and beautiful forms standing out in relief from the dark background. It is truly refreshing to read such words as these: "Then they that feared the LORD spake often one to another: and the LORD hearkened, and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before Him for them that feared the LORD, and that thought upon His name."

How precious is this brief record! How delightful to contemplate this remnant in the midst of the moral ruin! There is no pretension or assumption, no attempt to set up anything, no effort to reconstruct the fallen economy, no affected display of power. There is felt weakness, and looking to Jehovah; and this be it observed and ever remembered—is the true secret of all real power. We need never be afraid of conscious weakness. It is affected strength we need to dread and shrink from. "When I am weak, then am I strong" is ever the rule for the people of God—a blessed rule, most surely. God is to be counted upon always; and we may lay it down as a great root principle that, no matter what may be the actual state of the professing body, individual faith can enjoy communion with God according to the very highest truth of the dispensation.

Thus it was, as we may see, in the closing scenes of Malachi. All was in hopeless ruin; but that did not hinder those who loved and feared the Lord getting together to speak about Him and to muse upon His precious name. True, that feeble remnant was not like the great congregation which assembled in the days of Solomon, from Dan to Beersheba; but it had a glory peculiar to itself. It had the divine presence in a way no less marvelous though not so striking. We are not told of any "book of remembrance" in the days of Solomon. We are not told of Jehovah's hearkening and hearing. Perhaps it may be said, There was no need. Be it so; but that does not dim the luster of the grace that shone upon the little band in the days of Malachi. We may boldly affirm that Jehovah's heart was as refreshed by the loving breathings of that little band as by the splendid sacrifice in the day of Solomon's dedication. Their love shines out all the brighter in contrast with the heartless formalism of the professing body, and the venal corruption of the priests.

"And they shall be mine, saith the LORD of hosts, in that day when I make up My jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him. Then shall ye return, and discern between the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth God and him that serveth Him not. For, behold, the day cometh, that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble:... But unto you that fear My name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in His wings; and ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall. And ye shall tread down the wicked; for they shall be ashes under the soles of your feet in the day that I shall do this, saith the LORD of hosts."

We shall now give a hasty glance at the epistle of Jude. Here we have a still more appalling picture of apostasy and corruption. It is a familiar saying that the corruption of the best thing is the worst corruption; and hence it is that the Apostle Jude spreads before us a page so very much darker and more awful than that presented by the prophet Malachi. It is the record of man's utter failure and ruin under the very highest and richest privileges which could be conferred upon him.

In the opening of his solemn address, the Apostle lets us know that it was laid upon his heart to write unto us "of the common salvation." This would have been his far more delightful task. But he felt it "needful" to turn from this more congenial work in order to fortify our souls against the rising tide of error and evil which threatened the very foundations of Christianity. "Beloved, when I gave all diligence to write unto you of the common salvation, it was needful for me to write unto you, and exhort you that ye should earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints." All that was vital and fundamental was at stake. It was a question of earnestly contending for the faith itself. "For there are certain men crept in unawares, who were before of old ordained to this condemnation, ungodly men, turning the grace of our God into lasciviousness, and denying the only Lord God, and our Lord Jesus Christ."

This is far worse than anything we have in Malachi. There it was a question of the law, as we read, "Remember ye the law of Moses My servant, which I commanded unto him in Horeb for all Israel, with the statutes and judgments." But in Jude it is not a question of forgetting the law, but of actually turning into lasciviousness the pure and precious grace of God, and denying the lordship of Christ. Hence, therefore, instead of dwelling upon the salvation of God, the Apostle seeks to fortify us against the wickedness and lawlessness of men. "I will therefore," he says, "put you in remembrance, though ye once knew this, how that the Lord, having saved the people out

of the land of Egypt, afterward destroyed them that believed not. And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, He hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day."

All this is most solemn, but we desire to present to the reader the charming picture of the Christian remnant given in the closing lines of this most searching scripture. As in Malachi we have a devoted band of Jewish worshipers who loved and feared the Lord and took sweet counsel together, so in the epistle of Jude, amid the more appalling ruins of Christian profession, the Holy Ghost introduces to our notice a company whom He addresses as "Beloved." These are "sanctified by God the Father, and preserved in Jesus Christ, and called." These He solemnly warns against the varied forms of error and evil which were already beginning to make their appearance, but have since assumed such awfully formidable proportions. To these He turns with the most exquisite grace and addresses the following exhortation: "But ye, beloved, building up yourselves on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Ghost, keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life."

Here then we have divine security against all the dark and terrible forms of apostasy—"the way of Cain,... the error of Balaam,... the gainsaying of Core"—"murmurers" and "complainers"—the "great swelling words" -the "raging waves"-the "wandering stars"-"having men's persons in admiration because of advantage." The "beloved" are to build themselves up on their "most holy faith."

Let the reader note this. There is not a syllable here about an order of men to succeed the apostles not a word about gifted men of any sort. It is well to see this and to bear it ever in mind. We hear a great deal of our lack of gift and power, and of our not having pastors and teachers. How could we expect to have such gift and power? Do we deserve them? Alas! we have failed, and sinned, and come short. Let us own this and cast ourselves upon the living God who never fails a trusting heart.

Look at Paul's touching address to the elders of Ephesus in Acts 20. To whom does he there commend us, in view of the passing away of apostolic ministry? Is there a word about successors to the apostles? Not one, unless indeed it be the "grievous wolves" of which he speaks, or those men who were to arise in the very bosom of the Church, speaking perverse things to draw away disciples after them. What then is the resource of the faithful? "I commend you to God, and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among all them which are sanctified."

What a precious resource! To God Himself and the word of His grace. And hence it follows that, let our weakness be ever so great, we have God to look to and to lean upon. He never fails those who trust Him; and there is no limit whatsoever to the blessing which our souls may taste if only we look to God in humility of mind and childlike confidence.

Here lies the secret of all true blessedness and spiritual power—humility of mind and simple confidence. There must, on the one hand, be no assumption of power; and on the other we must not, in the unbelief of our hearts, limit the goodness and faithfulness of our God. He can and does bestow gifts for the edification of His people. He would bestow much more if we were not so ready to manage for ourselves.

But it is precisely in this very thing we so signally fail. We try to hide our weakness instead of owning it. We seek to cover our nakedness by a drapery of our own providing instead of confiding simply and entirely in Christ for all we need. We grow weary of the attitude of humble, patient waiting, and we are in haste to put on an appearance of strength This is our folly and our grievous loss. If we could only be induced to believe it, our real strength is to know our weakness and cling to Christ in artless faith from day to day.

It is to this most excellent way that the Apostle Jude exhorts the Christian remnant in his closing lines. "Ye, beloved, building up yourselves on your most holy faith." These words evidently set forth the responsibility of all true Christians to be found together instead of being divided and scattered. We are to help one another in love according to the measure of grace bestowed and the nature of the gift communicated. It is a mutual thing—"building up yourselves." It is not looking to an order of men, nor complaining of our lack of gifts, but simply doing

each what we can to promote the common blessing and profit of all.

The reader will notice the four things which we are exhorted to do; namely, "building"—"praying"—"keeping"—"looking." What blessed work is here! Yes, and it is work for all. There is not one true Christian on the face of the earth who cannot fulfill any or all of these branches of ministry; indeed every one is responsible to do so. We can build ourselves up on our most holy faith; we can pray in the Holy Ghost; we can keep ourselves in the love of God; and, while doing these things, we can look out for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ.

But, it may be asked, "Who are the 'beloved'? to whom does the term apply?" Our answer is, "To whomsoever it may concern." Let us see to it that we are on the ground of those to whom the precious title applies. It is not assuming the title, but occupying the true moral ground. It is not empty profession, but real possession. It is not affecting the name, but being the thing.

Nor does the responsibility of the Christian remnant end here. It is not merely of themselves they have to think. They are to cast a loving look and stretch forth a helping hand beyond the circumference of their own circle. "And of some have compassion, making a difference: and others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire; hating even the garment spotted by the flesh." Who are the "some"? and who are the "others"? Is there not the same beautiful undefinedness about these as there is about the "beloved"? These latter will be at no loss to find out the former. There are precious souls scattered up and down amid the appalling ruins of Christendom, "some" of them to be looked upon with tender compassion, "others" to be saved with godly fear, lest the "beloved" should become involved in the defilement.

It is a fatal mistake to suppose that, in order to pluck people out of the fire, we must go into the fire ourselves. This would never do. The best way to deliver people from an evil position is to be thoroughly out of that position myself. How can I best pull a man out of a morass? Surely not by going into the morass, but by standing on firm ground and from thence lending him a helping hand. I cannot pull a man out of anything unless I am out myself. If we want to help the people of God who are mixed up with the surrounding ruin, the first thing for ourselves is to be in thorough and decided separation; and the next thing is to have our hearts brimful and flowing over with tender and fervent love to all who bear the precious name of Jesus.

Here we must close, and in doing so we shall quote for the reader that blessed doxology with which the Apostle sums up his solemn and weighty address. "Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Savior, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen." We have a great deal about "falling" in this epistle—Israel falling, angels falling, cities falling. But blessed be God, there is One who is able to keep us from falling, and it is to His holy keeping we are committed.

A Motto for the Year 1872

Dear Reader, we want you to accept a little motto for the year on which you have just entered; and, if we mistake not, you will find it a precious motto for every year during which your Lord may see fit to leave you on this earth. It consists of two short but most weighty passages from the divine volume. You will find them in Psalm 119 The first is this: " Forever, Ο Lord, thy word is settled in heaven." (Ver. 89.) The second is this: " Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee." Verse 11.

These are, in good truth, golden sentences for the present moment. They set forth the true place for the word, namely, "settled in heaven" and "hidden in the heart." Nor is this all; they also link the heart on to the very throne of God, by means of His own word, thus giving to the Christian all the stability and all the moral security which the divine word is capable of imparting.

We do not forget—God forbid we should—that in order to enter into the power and value of these words, there must be faith wrought in the soul by the Holy Ghost. We would remember this. But our present subject is not faith, nor yet the precious work of the Spirit of God; but simply the word of God, in its eternal stability and its holy authority. We esteem it an unspeakable mercy and privilege—in the midst of all the strife and confusion, the discussion and controversy, the conflicting opinions and dogmas of men, the ever shifting sands of human thought and feeling—to have something "settled." It is a sweet relief and rest to the heart that has, it may be, been tossed about for many a long year, on the troubled sea of human opinion, to find that there is, after all, and spite of all, that on which one may lean with all the calm confidence of faith, and find therein divine and eternal stability.

What a mercy, in the face of the unrest and uncertainty of the present moment, to be able to say, " I have gotten something settled—settled forever—settled forever in heaven!" What effect, we may ask, can the bold and audacious reasonings of infidelity, or the sickly vaporings of superstition have upon the soul that can say, " My heart is linked to the throne of God by means of that word which is settled forever in heaven?" None whatever. Infidelity and superstition—the two great agents of hell in this very day in which we live—can only take effect upon those who really have nothing settled, nothing fixed, no link with the throne and heart of God. The wavering and undecided—those who halt between two opinions, who are looking this way and that way, who are afloat, who have no haven, no anchorage—these are in imminent danger of falling Tinder the power of infidelity and superstition.

We invite the special attention of the young reader to all this. We would sound a warning note in the ears of such. The present is a moment of deep and awful solemnity. The arch-enemy is putting forth every effort to sap the very foundations of Christianity. In all directions the divine authority and all-sufficiency of holy scripture is being called in question. Rationalism is gaining ground, to a fearful extent, at our seats of learning, and polluting the fountains whence the streams of religious thought and feeling are emanating over the land. Truth is at a discount, even amongst those who ought to be its guardians. We may, now-a-days, behold the strange sight of professing christian teachers taking part at meetings where professed infidels preside. Alas! alas! men who are professed infidels themselves may become pastors and teachers in that which calls itself the Church of God.

In the face of all this, how precious, how weighty is our motto, " Forever, Ο Lord, thy word is settled in heaven!" Nothing can touch this. It is above and beyond the reach of all the powers of earth and hell, men and devils. " The word of our God shall stand forever." The Lord be praised for the sweet and solid consolation of tins!

But let us remember the counterpart: " Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee." Here lies the great moral safeguard for the soul in this dark and evil day. To have God's word hidden in the heart is the divine secret of being preserved from all the snares of the enemy, and from all the evil influences which are at work around us. Satan and his agents can do absolutely nothing with a soul that reverently clings to scripture. The man who has learned, in the school of Christ, the force and meaning of that one commanding sentence, "It is written," is proof against all the fiery darts of the wicked one.

Dear reader, let us earnestly entreat you to ponder these things. Let us remind you that the one grand point for the people of God, now and at all times, is obedience. It is not a question of power, or of gift, or of external show, or of numbers; it is simply a question of obedience. " To obey is better than sacrifice." To obey what? The Church? Nay, the Church is a hopeless ruin, and cannot therefore be an authority. Obey what? The word of the Lord. What a rest for the heart! What authority for the path! What stability for the whole practical career! There is nothing like it. It tranquillizes the Spirit in an ineffable manner, and imparts a holy consistency to the character. It is a divine answer to those who talk of power, boast of numbers, point to external show, and profess reverence for antiquity. Moreover, it is the divine antidote for the spirit of independence, so rife, at the present day—for the haughty uprisings of the human will—the hold assertion of man's rights. The human mind is tossed like a ball from superstition to infidelity, and can find no rest. It is like a ship without compass, rudder, or anchor, driven hither and thither. But thanks be to God for all those to whose hearts the Holy Ghost has interpreted our motto for 1872. " Forever, Ο Lord, thy word is settled in heaven." " Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee."

Nevertheless

The word which forms the heading of this paper occurs in the fifth chapter of the epistle to the Ephesians, and the last verse. It is a very important word, as indicating what we are all so prone to forget, that there are two sides to every question, and, in particular, to the great question before the apostle's mind, in this passage. He is speaking of the subject of marriage, and of the relative duties of husband and wife, and he uses as an illustration, " The great mystery of Christ and the Church."

Now, there are two sides to this subject. There is a heavenly side, and there is an earthly side. We want them both. We cannot dispense with either; and the Holy Ghost has, in His infinite wisdom, bound them indissolubly together by the little word " nevertheless;" and, may we not say, what God has joined together let not man put asunder? It is quite true—blessedly true—that the Church's relation to Christ is heavenly: that the Church is called to know, rejoice in, feed upon, walk with, follow, and be conformed to a heavenly Christ.

All this is what we may well call vital and fundamental truth, which cannot, for a moment, he given up or lost sight of, without giving up, so far, the heavenly side of Christianity.

But are we not in danger of forgetting the practical application of all this to our present walk, on the earth, amid the stern realities of actual life, day by day? Are not husbands and wives, parents and children, masters and servants, earthly relationships? Unquestionably. True it is they are formed upon a heavenly model, and to be carried out after a heavenly pattern, as they also rest upon a heavenly base.

But still they are relationships in nature, formed on the earth, and to be carried out in daily life. There will be no such relationships in heaven. They do not belong to the resurrection-state. They belong to nature, to earth, to our time-condition, and we are called to walk in them as christian men, women, and children, and to glorify God by our spirit and temper and manner, our whole deportment therein, from hour to hour, and day to day.

Thus, for example, of what use is it for a man to traffic in lofty theories respecting the heavenly relationship of Christ and the Church, while he fails, every day of his life, in his earthly relationship as a husband? His wife is neglected; it may be treated coldly or harshly; she is not nourished, cherished, sustained and ministered to according to the heavenly model of Christ and His Church.

No doubt, the same pointed question may be asked in reference to the wife, and to all the other sacred relationships of our earthly and natural existence, for " there are two sides to every question."

Hence the very great importance of the apostle's " nevertheless." We may depend upon it, it has a wide application. It is most evident that the Holy Ghost anticipated the need of such a qualifying, modifying, regulating clause, when, having descanted upon the heavenly side of the subject of marriage, He adds, " Nevertheless, let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife See that she reverence her husband."

Christian reader, let us remember the two sides. Let us deeply ponder the inspired "Nevertheless." We may rest assured there is a need of it. There is the most urgent need of the practical application of divine and heavenly truth to our natural relationships and earthly ways. We have to remember that God recognizes nature, else why have we marriage? Flesh is not recognized, but nature is; and even admitted as a teacher (see Corinthians xi. 14). We are not yet actually in heaven. We are there, thank God, as to our standing, there in spirit, there in principle, there by faith. Our life, our portion, our hope, our home is there, because Christ is there.

But we are here on this earth, called to represent Christ in this world, as He represents us in heaven. God views us as men, women, and children, called to tread the sand of the desert, and to meet the positive realities of daily life. Life is a reality—an actual bona fide practical reality; and our God has provided for us, in view of this fact, by the priestly ministry of Christ, on high; and by the ministry of the Holy Ghost and the teachings of holy scripture here below. We must have what is real to meet what is real. We are not called, thank God, to be occupied with visionary notions, with empty theories, with a powerless sentimentality, nor even with one-sided truth. No; we are called to be real, genuine, sound, practical christian men, women, and children. We are called to display, in our daily history here on this earth, the practical results of that which we know and enjoy by faith in heaven. In one word, we must never forget that when the very highest truths are being unfolded before us, there is a healthful and holy application of these truths indicated by the inspired " Nevertheless."

Obedience and Dependence Are Necessary: Old Prophets and Evidence Deceive

The business of a servant is to obey, not to reason-to act according to his master's directions, not according to his own will or judgment. If he only does exactly what his master tells him, he is not responsible for the consequences.

The one grand business of a servant is to obey. This is the moral perfection of a servant. Alas! How rare! There has been but one absolutely obedient and perfectly dependent servant in the entire history of this world—the Man Christ Jesus. His meat and His drink were to obey. "Then said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the book it is written of Me, I delight to do Thy will, 0 My God: yea, Thy law is within My heart." Psalm 40:7, 8.

Our blessed Lord Jesus found in the will of God His only motive for action. There was nothing in Him that needed to be restrained by the authority of God. His will was perfect and His every movement was of necessity- the very necessity of His perfect nature—in the current of the divine will. "Thy law is within My heart"; "I delight to do Thy will"; "I came down from heaven, not to do Mine own will, but the will of Him that sent Me."

Now what could Satan do with such a man as this? Absolutely nothing. He tried to withdraw Him from the path of obedience and the place of dependence, but in vain. "If Thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread." Surely God would give His Son bread. No doubt; but the perfect Man refused to make bread for Himself. He had no command, no authority, and therefore no motive for action. "It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." So throughout the entire temptation. Nothing could withdraw the blessed One from the path of simple obedience. "It is written," was His one unvarying answer. He would not, could not, act without a motive; and His only motive was found in the will of God. "I delight to do Thy will, O My God: yea, Thy law is within My heart."

Such was the obedience of Jesus Christ—an obedience perfect from first to last. And not only was He perfectly obedient, but perfectly dependent. Though God over all, blessed forever, yet, having taken His place as a man in this world, He lived a life of perfect dependence on God. He could say,

"I clothe the heavens with blackness, and I make sackcloth their covering. The Lord GOD hath given Me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary: He wakeneth morning by morning, He wakeneth Mine ear to hear as the learned. The Lord GOD hath opened Mine ear, and I was not rebellious, neither turned away back. I gave My back to the smiters, and My cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not My face from shame and spitting. For the Lord GOD will help Me; therefore shall I not be confounded: therefore have I set My face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed." Isa. 50:3-8. And again, "I was cast upon Thee from the womb."

He was wholly and continually cast upon God from the manger of Bethlehem to the cross of Calvary; and when He had finished all, He surrendered His Spirit into His Father's hand, and His flesh rested in hope. His obedience and dependence were divinely perfect throughout.

But we must now ask the reader to turn with us for a few moments to two examples of the very opposite of all this -two cases in which, through lack of obedience and dependence, the most disastrous results followed.

Let us in the first place turn to the 13th chapter of 1 Kings. Doubtless the case is familiar to us; but let us look at it in connection with our present theme.

"And, behold, there came a man of God out of Judah by the word of the Loan unto Beth-el: and Jeroboam stood by the altar to burn incense. And he cried against the altar in the word of the LORD." Thus far all was right. He spoke by the Word of God, and the power of God accompanied the testimony, and the spirit of the king was humbled and subdued for the moment.

But more than this. The man of God was enabled to refuse the king's invitation to come home with him and refresh himself and receive a reward. "And the man of God said unto the king, If thou wilt give me half thine house, I will not go in with thee, neither will I eat bread nor drink water in this place: for so it was charged me by the word of the LORD, saying, Eat no bread, nor drink water, nor turn again by the same way that thou camest."

All this was lovely perfectly delightful to dwell upon. The feet of the man of God stood firm in the bright and blessed path of obedience, and all was victory. The offers of the king were flung aside without a moment's hesitation. Half the royal house could not tempt him off the narrow, holy, happy path of obedience. He rejected every overture, and turned to pursue the straight path opened before him by the word of the Lord. There was no reasoning, no questioning, no hesitation. The word of the Lord settled everything. He had but to obey, regardless of consequences. And so far he did, and all was well.

But mark the sequel. "Now there dwelt an old prophet in Beth-el"—reader, beware of old prophets! And this old prophet followed the man of God, and said unto him, "Come home with me, and eat bread." This was the devil in a new shape. What the word of a king had failed to do, the word of a prophet might accomplish. It was a wile of Satan for which the man of God was evidently unprepared. The garb of a prophet deceived him, and threw him completely off his guard; we can at once perceive his altered tone. When replying to the king, he spoke with vividness, force, and bold decision -"If thou wilt give me half thine house, I will not go in with thee." And then he added with equal force his reason for refusing: "For so it was charged me by the word of the LORD."

But in reply to the prophet there is manifest decline in the way of energy, boldness, and decision. He says, "I may not return with thee, nor go in with thee." And in assigning the reason, instead of the forcible word "charged," we have the feeble word, "It was said to me."

In short, the whole tone is lower. The Word of God was losing its true place and power in his soul. No change had passed over that Word. "Forever, O LORD, Thy word is settled in heaven"; and had that Word been hidden in the heart of the man of God, had it been dwelling richly in his soul, his answer to the prophet would have been as distinct and decided as his answer to the king. "By the word of Thy lips I have kept Me from the paths of the destroyer." The spirit of obedience is the great moral safeguard against every scheme and every snare of the enemy. The enemy may shift his ground; he may change his tactics; he may vary his agency; but obedience to the plain and simple Word of God preserves the soul from all his wicked schemes and crafty devices. The devil can do nothing with a man who is absolutely ruled by the Word of God, and refuses to move the breadth of a hair without divine authority.

But note how the enemy urged his point with the man of God. "He said unto him, I am a prophet also as thou art; and an angel snake unto me by the word of the LORD, saying, Bring him back with thee into thine house."

Now what should the man of God have said to this? If the Word of his Lord had been abiding in him, he would at once have said, "If ten thousand prophets and ten thousand angels were to say, Bring him back, I should regard them all as, liars and emissaries of the devil, sent forth to allure me from the holy, happy path of obedience." This would have been a sublime reply. It, would have the same heavenly ring about it as is exhibited in these glowing words of the Apostle: "Though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed." Gal. 1:8.

But alas! alas! the man of God stepped off the path of obedience; and the very man whom Satan had used to draw him off, became the mouthpiece of Jehovah to announce in his ears the terrible consequence. He lied when Satan used him. He spoke truth when God used him. The erring man of God was slain by a lion because he disobeyed the word of the Lord. Yes, he stemmed off the narrow path of obedience into the wide field of his own will, and there he was slain.

Reader, let us beware of old prophets and angels of light! Let us, in the true spirit of obedience, keep close, very close, to the Word of our God. We shall find the path of obedience both safe and pleasant, holy and happy.

And now for a moment ere we close, let us glance at the 9th chapter of Joshua, which records for our admonition the manner in which even Joshua himself was ensnared through lack of simple dependence upon God. We do not quote the passage or enter into any detail. The reader can turn to the chapter and ponder its contents.

Why was Israel beguiled by the craft of the Gibeonites? Because they leaned to their own understanding and judged by the sight of their eyes instead of waiting upon God for guidance and counsel. He knew all about the Gibeonites. He was not deceived by their tattered rags and moldy bread; and neither would they have been, had they only looked to Him.

But here they failed. They did not wait on God. He would have guided them. He would have told them who these crafty strangers were. He would have made all clear for them, had they simply waited on Him in the sense of their own ignorance and feebleness. But no; they would think for themselves, and judge for themselves, and reason from what they saw, and draw their own conclusions. All these things they would do; and hence the tattered garments of the Gibeonites accomplished what the frowning bulwarks of Jericho had failed to do.

Now we may be quite sure that Israel had no thought of making a league with any of the Canaanites. No, they were in terrible indignation when they discovered that they had done so. But they did it and had to abide by it. It is easier to make a mistake than to rectify it, and so the Gibeonites remained as a striking memorial of the evil of not waiting on God for counsel and guidance.

May the Holy Spirit teach us from all that has passed before us, the solemn importance of "obedience" and "dependence."

Peter on the Water

(Read Matt. 14:22-33.)

There are two ways in which we may view the interesting portion of scripture given above. In the first place, we may read it from a dispensational stand-point, as bearing upon the subject of God's dealings with Israel. And, secondly, we may read it as a portion bearing, very directly, on the subject of our own practical walk with God, from day to day.

Our Lord, having fed the multitude, and dismissed them, " went up into a mountain apart to pray, and when the evening was come, he was there alone." This answers precisely to His present position with reference to the nation of Israel. He has left them, and gone on high to enter upon the blessed work of intercession. Meanwhile, the disciples—a type of the pious remnant—were tossed on the stormy sea, during the dark watches of the night, deeply tried and exercised, in the absence of their Lord, who however, never, for one moment, lost sight of them—never withdrew His eyes from them; and, when they were brought, as it were, to their wits' end, He appears for their relief, hushes the wind, calms the sea, and brings them to their desired haven.

' Thus much as to the dispensational bearing of this passage of scripture, which, though of the deepest interest, we shall not further pursue, inasmuch as our object, in this brief article, is to present to the heart of the reader the precious truth unfolded in the narrative of Peter on the water—truth, as we have said, bearing directly upon our own individual path, whatever the nature of that path may be.

It demands no stretch of imagination, no effort of fancy, to see, in the case of Peter, a striking figure of the Church of God collectively, or of the individual Christian. Peter left the ship, at the call of Christ. He abandoned all that to which the heart would so fondly cling, find came forth to walk on the stormy water—to pursue a path entirely beyond and above nature—a path of faith—a path in which naught but simple faith could live for a single hour. To all who are called to tread that path it must be either Christ or nothing. Our only spring of power is in keeping the eye of faith firmly fixed on Jesus—"Looking off unto Jesus, the author and the finisher of faith." (Heb. 12) The moment We take the eye off Him, we begin to sink.

It is not—need we say?—a question of salvation—of reaching the shore in safety. By no means; we are speaking now of the walk of the Christian in this world—of the practical career of one who is called to abandon this world, to give up all that mere nature would lean upon and trust in, to relinquish earthly things, human resources and natural appliances, in order to walk with Jesus above the power and influence of things seen and temporal.

Such is the high calling of the Christian and of the whole Church of God, in contrast with Israel, God's earthly people. We are called to live by faith; to walk, in calm confidence, above the circumstances of this world altogether; to move, in holy companionship, with Jesus. It was after this that Peter's soul was breathing when he uttered those words, " Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water." Here was the point: " If it be thou." If it were not He, the wildest mistake that Peter could possibly make would be to leave the ship. But, on the other hand, if indeed it was His own very self—that blessed One; that most glorious, most gracious One who was there moving peacefully over the surface of the troubled deep -then, assuredly, the very highest, the very happiest, the very best thing he could do was to abandon every earthly and natural resource, in order to come forth to Jesus, and taste the ineffable blessedness of companionship with Him.

There is immense force, depth, and significance in these three clauses—" If it be thou"—" Bid me come unto thee"- " On the water." Mark, it is " unto thee, on the water." It was not Jesus coming to Peter, in the ship—blessed and precious as that is—but Peter coming to Jesus, on the water. It is one thing to have Jesus coming into the midst of our circumstances, hushing our fears, allaying our anxieties, tranquillizing our hearts; and it is quite another thing for us to push out from the shore of circumstances, or from the ship of nature's appliances, to walk in calm victory over the circumstances, in order to be with Jesus where He is. The former reminds us somewhat of the Sareptan, in 1 Kings 17 The latter, of the Shunammite, in 2 Kings 4

Is it that we do not appreciate the excellent grace that breathes in those words, " Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid?" Far be the thought. These words are most precious. And, moreover, Peter might have tasted, yea reveled in their sweetness, even though he had never left the ship at all. It is well to distinguish between these two things. They are very often confounded. We are all prone to rest in the thought of having the Lord with us, and His mercies around us, in our daily path. We linger amid the relationships of nature, the joys of earth, such as they are, the blessings winch our gracious God pours so liberally upon us. We cling to circumstances, instead of breathing after more intimate companionship with a rejected Christ. In this way we suffer immense loss.

Yes, we say it advisedly, " immense loss." It is not that we should prize God's blessings and mercies less, but we should prize Himself more. We believe that Peter would have been a loser had he remained in the ship. Some may deem it restlessness and forwardness; we believe it was the fruit of earnest longing after his much loved Lord—an intense desire to be near Him, cost what it might. He beheld his Lord walking on the water and he longed to walk with Him, and his longing was right. It was grateful to the heart of Jesus.

And, besides, had he not the authority of his Lord for leaving the ship? Truly so. That word " come"—a word of mighty moral force—fell on his heart, and drew him forth from the ship to go to Jesus. Christ's word was the authority for entering on that strange mysterious path; and Christ's realized presence was the power to pursue it. Without that word he dare not start; without that presence he could not proceed. It was strange, it was unearthly, it was above and beyond nature, to walk on the sea; but Jesus was walking there, and faith could walk with Him. So Peter thought, and therefore "he came down out of the ship, and walked on the water to go to Jesus."

Now this is a striking figure of the true path of a christian—the path of faith. The warrant for that path is Christ's word. The power to pursue it is to keep the eye fixed on Himself. It is not a question of right or wrong. There was nothing wrong in remaining in the ship. But the question is, " At what do we aim?" Is it the fixed purpose of the soul to get as near as we can to Jesus? Do we desire to taste a deeper, closer, fuller communion with Him? Is He enough for us? Can we give up all that to which mere nature clings, and loan on Jesus only? He beckons us forth to Himself, in His infinite and condescending love. He says, " Come." Shall we refuse? Shall we hesitate and hang back? Shall we cling to the ship, while the voice of Jesus bids us " come?"

It may, perhaps, be said that Peter broke down, and therefore it is better, safer, and wiser to remain in the ship, than to sink in the water. It is better not to take a prominent place, than having taken it, to fail therein. Well, it is quite true that Peter failed; but why? Was it because he left the ship? No, but because he ceased to look to Jesus. " When he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid;

and beginning to sink, lie cried, saying, Lord, save me." Thus it was with poor Peter. His mistake was, not in leaving the ship, but in looking at the waves and the winds- looking at his surroundings, in place of looking off unto Jesus. He had entered upon a path which could only be trodden by faith—a path in the which, if he had not Jesus, lie had nothing at all—no ship, no boat, not a spar or a plank to cling to. In a word, it was either Christ or nothing. It was either walking with Jesus on the water, or sinking beneath it without Him. Nothing but faith could sustain the heart in such a course. But faith could sustain; for faith can live amid the roughest waves and the stormiest skies. Faith can walk on the roughest waters; unbelief cannot walk on the smoothest.

But Peter failed. Yes; and what then? Docs that prove that he was wrong in obeying the call of his Lord? Did Jesus reprove him for leaving the ship? Λ11! no; that would not have been like Him. He could not tell His poor servant to come, and then rebuke him for coming. He knew and could feel for Peter's weakness, and hence we read, that "Immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, Ο thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" He does not say, " Ο thou restless forward one, why didst thou leave the ship?" No; but " wherefore didst thou doubt?" Such was the tender reproof. And where was Peter when he heard it? In the arms of his Lord! What a place! What an experience! Was it not well worth leaving the ship to taste such blessedness? No doubt it was. Peter was right in leaving the ship; and although lie broke down in that lofty path on which he had entered, it only led him into a deeper sense of his own weakness and nothingness, and of the grace and love of his Lord.

•Christian reader, what is the moral of all this to us? Simply this. Jesus calls us forth from the things of time and sense, to walk with Him. He summons us to LINES OCCASIONED BY HEAVY DOMESTIC TROUBLES. GO abandon all our earthly hopes and creature confidences—the props and resources on which our poor hearts lean. His voice may be heard far above the din of waves and storms, and that voice says,'" Come!" Oh! let us obey. Let us heartily yield ourselves to His call. "Let us go forth unto him without the camp, bearing his reproach." He wants to have us near Himself, walking with and leaning on Him, not looking at circumstances, but looking only and always unto Him.

Preaching Christ: What Is It? Part 1

"Philip went down to Samaria, ma preached Christ unto them." (Acts 8) This brief and simple statement embodies in it a grand characteristic feature of Christianity—a feature which distinguishes it from every system of religion that now exists, or that ever was propounded in this world. Christianity is not a set of abstractions—a number of dogmas—a system of doctrines. It is, preeminently, a religion of living facts—of divine realities—a religion which finds its center in a divine Person, the Man Christ Jesus. He is the foundation of all christian doctrine. From His divine and glorious Person all truth radiates. He is the living fountain whence all the streams issue forth in fullness, power, and blessing. " In him was life, and the life was the light of men." Apart from Him all is death and darkness. There is not one atom of life, not one ray of light, in all this world, save what emanates from Him. A man may possess all the learning of the schools; he may bask in the most brilliant light that science can pour upon his understanding and his pathway; he may garnish his name with all the honors which his fellow mortals can heap upon him; but if there is the breadth of a hair between him and Jesus—if he is not in Christ and Christ in him—if he has not believed on the Name of the only begotten Son of God, he is involved in death and darkness. Christ is "the true light which lighteneth every man that cometh into the world;" and hence no man can, in a divine sense, be termed an enlightened man, save " a man in Christ."

It is well to be clear as to this. It is needful to press it, in this day of man's pride and pretension. Men are boasting of their light and intelligence—of the progress of civilization—of the research and discovery of the age in which our lot is cast—of the arts and sciences and what bas been wrought and produced by their means. We do not want to touch these things. We are quite willing to let them stand for what they are really worth; but we are arrested by these words which fell from the Master's lips, " I am the light of the world; he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." Here it is, "He that followeth me." Life and light are only to be had in Jesus. If a man is not following Jesus, he is plunged in death and darkness, even though he were possessed of the most commanding genius, and enriched with all the stores of science and knowledge.

Doubtless, we shall be deemed narrow-minded, in thus writing. We shall, by very many, be regarded as men of very contracted views indeed—men of one idea, and even that one idea presented in a one-sided way. Well, be it so. We are men of one idea; and we heartily desire we were more so. But what is that one idea? Christ. He is God's grand idea, blessed be His Name, for evermore. Christ is the sum and substance of all that is in the mind of God. He is the central object in heaven—the grand fact of eternity—the object of God's affection—of angels' homage—of saints' worship—of devils' dread—the alpha and the omega of the divine counsels—the keystone of the arch of revelation—the central sun of God's universe.

All this being so, we need not marvel at Satan's constant effort to keep souls from coining to Christ, and to draw them away from Him, after they have come to Him. He hates Christ, and will use anything and everything to hinder the heart in getting hold of Him. He will use cares or pleasures, poverty or riches, sickness or health, vice or morality, profanity or religion; in short, he cares not what it is, provided he can keep Jesus out of the heart.

On the other hand, the constant object of the Holy Ghost is to present Christ Himself to the soul. It is not something about Christ, doctrines respecting Him, or principles connected with Him merely; but His own very self, in living power and freshness. We cannot read a page of the New Testament without noticing this. The whole book, from the opening lines of Matthew, to the close of the Revelation, is simply a record of facts, as some one has truly said, respecting Jesus. It is not our purpose, just now, to follow out this record; to do so would be interesting beyond expression; but it would lead us away from our immediate thesis to which we must now, in the name of the Lord, and in dependence upon His Spirit, address ourselves. May it be unfolded and applied in the power of the Holy Ghost!

In studying scripture in connection with our subject, we shall find the Lord Jesus Christ presented in three ways, namely, as a test; as a victim; and as a model Each of these points contains in itself a volume of truth, and when we view them in their connection, they open to our souls a wide field of christian knowledge and experience. Let us, then, in the first place, consider what is meant when we speak of CHRIST AS A TEST.

In contemplating the life of the Lord Jesus, as a man, we have the perfect exhibition of what a man ought to be. We see in Him the two grand creature perfections, namely, obedience and dependence. Though God over all, the Almighty Creator and Sustainer of the wide universe—though He could say, " I clothe the heavens with blackness, and I make sackcloth their covering." Yet so thoroughly and absolutely did He take the place of a man on this earth, that He could say, " the Lord God hath given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary: he wakeneth morning by morning, He wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned. The Lord God hath opened mine ear, and I was not rebellious, neither turned away back." (Isa. 1:3-5.)

He never moved one step without divine authority. "When the devil tempted Him to work a miracle, in order to satisfy His hunger, His reply was, "It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord." He would readily work a miracle to feed others, but not to feed Himself. Again, when tempted to cast Himself from the pinnacle of the temple, He replied, " It is written, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." He had no command from God to cast Himself down, and He could not act without it; to do so would be a tempting of Providence. So also, when tempted with the offer of all the kingdoms of this world, on condition of doing homage to Satan, His reply was, " It is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God. and him only shalt thou serve."

In a word, the Man Christ Jesus, was perfectly obedient. Nothing could tempt Him to diverge the breadth of a hair from the narrow path of obedience. He was the obedient Man from first to last. It was quite the same to Him where He served, or what He did. He would only act by the authority of the divine word. He would take bread from God; He would come to His temple when sent of God, and He would wait for God's time to receive the kingdoms of this world. His obedience was absolute and uninterrupted, from the manger to the cross, and in this He was well pleasing to God. It was creature perfection; and nothing in any wise different from this could be agreeable to God. If perfect obedience is grateful to God, then disobedience must be hateful. The life of Jesus, in this one feature of it, was a continual feast to the heart of God. His perfect obedience was continually sending up a cloud of the most fragrant incense to the throne of God.

Now, this is what a man ought to be. We have here a perfect test of man's condition; and when we look at ourselves in the light of this one ray of Christ's glory, we must see our entire departure from the true and only proper place of the creature. The light that shines from the character and ways of Jesus reveals, as nothing else could reveal, the moral darkness of our natural state. We are not obedient; we are willful; we do our own pleasure; we have cast off the authority of God; His word does not govern us. " The carnal mind is enmity against God; it is not subject to the law of God; neither indeed can be." (Rom. 8)

It may be asked, "Did not the law make manifest the willfulness and enmity of our hearts?" No doubt; but who can fail to see the difference between a law demanding obedience, and the Son of God, as Man, exhibiting obedience? Well then, in so far as the life and ways of the blessed Lord Jesus Christ transcend in glory the entire legal system, and in so far as the Person of Christ transcends in glory and dignity the person of Moses, just so far does Christ, as a test of man's condition, exceed, in moral power, the law of Moses; and the same holds good of every test that was ever applied, and every other standard that was ever set up. The Man Christ Jesus, viewed in the one point of perfect obedience, is an absolutely perfect test by which our natural state can be tried and made manifest.

But take another ray of Christ's moral glory. He was as absolutely dependent upon God, as He was obedient to Him. He could say, "preserve me, Ο God, for in thee do I put my trust." (Psalm 16) And again, " I was cast upon thee from the womb." (Psalm 22) He never, for one moment, abandoned the attitude of entire dependence upon the living God. It is befitting the creature to be dependent upon God for everything. This the blessed Jesus ever was. He breathed the very atmosphere of dependence, all the way through from Bethlehem to Calvary. He was the only man that ever lived a life of uninterrupted dependence upon God, from first to last. Others have depended partially, He did it perfectly. Others have occasionally, or, it may be, mainly looked to God; He never looked anywhere else. He found all His springs; not some of them, or most of them, in God.

This, too, was most grateful to God. To have a man, on this earth, whose heart was never, for one single moment of time, out of the attitude of dependence, was ineffably precious to the Father, and hence, again and again, heaven opened, and the testimony came forth, " This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."

But, if this feature in the perfect life of the Man, Christ Jesus, was infinitely agreeable to the mind of God, it also furnishes an infinitely powerful test of the natural state of man. We can here see, as we can see nowhere else, our apostasy from the creature's only proper place—the place of dependence. True, the inspired historian informs us, in Gen. 3 that the first Adam fell from his original place of obedience and dependence. True, also, the law of Moses makes manifest that Adam's descendants are, every one of them, in a condition of revolt and independence; but who can fail to see with what superior power all this is brought out by the life and ways of Jesus, in this world? In Him we see a man perfectly obedient and perfectly dependent, and that, too, in the midst of a scene of disobedience and independence, and in the face of every temptation to abandon the position which He occupied.

Thus, the life of Jesus, in this one particular point of perfect dependence, tests man's condition, and proves his entire departure from God. Man, in his natural state, ever seeks to be independent of God. We need net go into any detailed proof of this. This one ray of light, emanating from the glory of Christ, and shining into man's heart, lays bare every chamber thereof, and proves beyond all question—proves, in a way that naught else could prove, man's departure from God, proves the haughty independence which marks our natural condition. The more intense the light which you bring to bear upon an object, the more perfectly you can see what it is. There is a vast difference between looking at a picture in the dim morning twilight, and examining it in broad daylight. Thus it is, exactly, in reference to our real state by nature. We may view it in the light of the law, in the light of conscience, in the light of the loftiest standard of morality known amongst men; and, so viewing it, we may see that it is not what it ought to be; but it is only when we view it in the full blaze of the moral glory of Christ that we can see it as it really is. It is one thing to say, " We have done those things which we ought not to have done, and left undone those things which we ought to have done;"and it is another thing altogether to see ourselves in that perfect light which makes everything manifest It is one thing to look at our ways in the light of law, conscience, or morality, and another thing to look at our nature, in the light of that all-powerful test, namely, the life of the Man Christ Jesus.

But we must proceed, and shall merely refer to one more feature in the character of Christ, and that is His perfect self-emptiness. He never once sought His own interest, in anything. His was a life of constant self-sacrifice. " The Son of Man has come to serve and to give." These two words "serve" and "give" formed the motto of His life, and were written, in letters of blood, upon His cross. In His marvelous life, and in His mysterious death, He was the Servant and the Giver. He was ever ready to answer every form of human need. We see Him, at Sychar's lonely well, opening the fountain of living water to a poor thirsty soul. We see Him, at the pool of Bethesda, imparting strength to a poor impotent cripple. We see Him, at the gate of Nain, drying the widow's tears, and giving back to her bosom her only son.

All this and much more we see; but we never see Him looking after His own interests. No, never! We cannot too deeply ponder this fact in the life of Jesus; nor can we too jealously scrutinize ourselves in the light which this wondrous fact emits. If in the light of His perfect obedience, we can detect our terrible willfulness; if in the light of His absolute dependence, we can discern our pride and haughty independence; then surely, in the light of His self-emptiness and self-sacrifice, we may discover our gross selfishness, in its ten thousand forms, and as we discover it, we must loathe and abhor ourselves. Jesus never thought of Himself, in anything he ever said or did. He found His meat and His drink in doing the will of God, and in meeting the need of man.

What a test is here! How it proves us! How it makes manifest what is in us, by nature! How it sheds its bright light over man's nature and man's world, and rebukes both the one and the other! For what, after all, is the great root-principle of nature and of this world? Self. " Men will praise thee when thou doest well to thyself." (Psalm 49) Self-interest is really the governing principle in the life of every unrenewed man, woman, and child, in this world. No doubt, nature may clothe itself in very amiable and attractive forms—it may assume a very generous and benevolent aspect—it can scatter as well as hoard; but of this we may rest assured, that the unregenerate man is wholly incapable of rising above self as an object; and in no way could this be made so throughly manifest—in no way could it be developed with such force and clearness—in no way could its vileness and hideousness be so fully detected and judged, as in the light of that per-feet test presented in the disinterested, self-sacrificing life of our blessed Lord Jesus Christ. It is when that penetrating light shines upon us that we see ourselves in all our true native depravity and personal vileness.

The Lord Jesus came into this world, and lived a perfect life—perfect in thought, perfect in word, perfect in action; He perfectly glorified God, and not only so, but He perfectly tested man. He showed what God is, and He showed also what man ought to be—showed it not merely in His doctrine, but in His walk. Man was never so tested before, and, hence, the Lord Jesus could say, " If I had not come and spoken unto them, they had not had sin; but now they have no cloak for their sin. He that hateth me, hateth my Father also. If I had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin; but now have they both seen and hated both me and my Father." John 15:22-24.

Again, He says, "I judge no man; and yet if I judge, my judgment is true." (John 8:16.) The object of His mission was not judgment but salvation, yet the effect of His life was judgment upon everyone with whom He came in contact. It was impossible for anyone to stand in the light of Christ's moral glory, and not be judged in the very center and source of His being. When Peter saw himself in that light, he exclaimed, "Depart from me for I am a sinful man, Ο Lord." Luke 5

Such was the certain result of a man's seeing himself in the presence of Christ. Not all the thunderings and lightnings of Mount Sinai—not all the denunciations of the legal system—not all the voices of the prophets could produce such an effect upon a sinner as one single ray of the moral glory of Christ darting into his soul. I may look at the law and feel I have not kept it, and own I deserve its curse; conscience may terrify me and tell me I deserve hell-fire because of my sins. All this is true: but oh! the very moment I see myself in the light of what Christ is, my whole moral being is laid bare—every root every fiber, every motive spring, every element, all the sources of thought, feeling, desire, affection, and imagination are exposed to view, and I abhor myself. It cannot possibly be otherwise. The whole book of God proves it. The history of all God's people illustrates it. To adduce cases would fill a volume. True conviction is produced in the soul when the Holy Ghost lets in upon it the light of the glory of Christ. Law is a reality, conscience is a reality, and the Spirit of God may and does make use of the former to act on the latter; but it is only when I see myself in the light of what Christ is, that I get a just view of myself, and then I am led to exclaim, with Job, "I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine eye seeth thee, therefore I abhor myself"

Reader, have you ever seen yourself in this way? Have you ever really tested yourself by the perfect standard of the life of Christ? It may be you have been looking at your fellow man and comparing yourself with that imperfect standard, and trying yourself by that imperfect test. This will never do. Christ is the true standard—the perfect test—the divine touchstone. God cannot have anything different from Christ. You must be like Him—conformed to His image, ere you can find your place in the presence of God. Do you ask, " How can this ever be?" By knowing Christ as the Victim, and by being formed after Him as the Model. But these points must be unfolded, if the Lord will, in our next.

(To be continued, if the Lord will)

Preaching Christ: What Is It? Part 2

It is most needful, ere we proceed with the subject which has been engaging our attention, that the whole world, as such, and each human heart, in particular, should be seen and judged in the light of the moral glory of Christ—that divine and perfect test by which every one and everything must be tried. Christ is God's standard for all; and the more fully and faithfully the world and self are measured thereby, the better. The grand question for the whole world, and for each human heart, is this, " How has Christ been treated?—what have we done with Him?" God sent His only begotten Son into the world, as the expression of His love to sinners. He said, "It may be they will reverence my Son, when they see him." Did they do so? Alas! no. " They said, This is the heir; come let us kill him." It was thus the world treated Christ.

And, be it observed, it was not the world, in its dark pagan form, that so treated the blessed One. No; it was the world of the religious Jew, and of the polished and cultivated Greek. It was not into the dark places of the earth, as men speak, that Jesus came; but into the very midst of His own highly favored people " who were Israelites; to whom pertained the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises." It was to them He came, in meekness, lowliness, and love. It was among them He lived and labored, and " went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil, for God was with him." How did they treat Him? This is the question; let us ponder it deeply, and ponder, too, the answer. They preferred a murderer to the holy, spotless, loving Jesus. The world—the heart, got its choice. Jesus and Barabbas were set before it; and the question was put, " Which will you have? " What was the answer—the deliberate, determined, answer? " Not this man, but Barabbas. Now Barabbas was a robber."

Tremendous fact!—a fact little weighed, little understood, little entered into—a fact which stamps the character of this present world, and tests and makes manifest the state of every unrepentant, unconverted heart beneath the canopy of heaven. If I want a true view of the world—of nature—of the human heart—of myself, whither shall I turn? To police reports? To the calendars of our Grand Juries? To the various statistics of the social and moral condition of our cities and towns? Nay; all these, it is true, may set before us facts which fill the soul with horror, and make the blood run cold. But let it be distinctly seen, and deeply felt, that all the facts that were ever recorded of crime, in its blackest and most fearful forms, arc net to be compared with that one fact, the rejection and crucifixion of the Lord of glory. This crime stands cut in bold and black relief from the background of man's entire history, and fixes the true condition of the world, of man, of nature, of self.

Now, it is this we are anxious to urge upon the heart of the reader, ere we proceed to the second division of our subject. We do want, him to seize this great, this potent fact. We have, again and again, referred to it, in the pages of "Things New and Old;" but it cannot possibly be too much enforced. It is the only way in which to get a right sense of what the world is, and of what the human heart is. Men may speak of the vast improvement which has taken place in the world, and of the dignity of human nature; but ah! the heart turns back to that hour in the which the world, when called to make a choice between the Lord of glory and a murderer, deliberately selected the latter and nailed the former to a tree, between two malefactors. This crime of crimes remains, so far as the world is concerned, uncanceled, unforgiven. It stands recorded, in dark and awful characters, on the eternal page. And not only is this so, as regards the world as a whole, but it also holds good, in reference to the unrepentant, unconverted reader of these lines. The solemn question still remains to be answered—answered by the world—answered by the individual sinner, namely, " What have you done with the Son of God? What has become of Him? How have you treated Him? " Of what use is it to point to the progress of the human race? to the march of civilization? to the advance of the arts and sciences? to railroads and telegraphs? to Armstrong guns and iron clad ships? to the ten thousand forms in which human genius has tasked itself in order to minister to human lust, luxury and self-indulgence! All these things might be far outweighed by the misery, the moral degradation, the squalid poverty, the ignorance and vice in which more than nine-tenths of the human race are, at this moment, involved.

But it is not thus we meet the question at all. We do not attempt to put barbarism against civilization, poverty against luxury, grossness against refinement, ignorance against intelligence; by no means. We have but the one test, the one standard, the one gauge, and that is the cross to which Jesus was nailed by the representatives of this world's religion, its science, its politics, and its civilization.

It is here we take our stand and ask this question, Has the world ever yet repented of this act? Nay; for had it done so, the kingdoms of this world would have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ. It is here we take our stand, and ask the reader, Have you repented of this act? He may say, "I never did it. It was done by wicked Jews and wicked Romans, eighteen hundred and thirty three years ago. How could I be counted guilty of a crime which was committed so many centuries before I was born? "

We reply, It was the act of the world, and you are either, at this moment, part and parcel of that world which stands before God under the guilt of the murder of His Son, or you have, as a repentant and converted soul, found refuge and shelter in the pardoning love of God. There is no middle ground, and the more clearly you see this the better, for in no way can you have a just sense of the condition of this world, or of your own heart, save in the light which is cast thereon by the life and death of Christ, as a test. We cannot stop short of this mark, if we would form a true estimate of the character of the world, the nature of man, the condition of the unconverted soul. In so far as the world is concerned, there can be no real improvement in its condition, no radical change in its state, until the sword of divine judgment has settled the question of its treatment of the Son of God; and, in so far as the individual sinner is concerned, the divine testimony is, "Repent and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out."

But this leads us, in the second place, to contemplate

CHRIST AS A VICTIM.

This is a much more pleasing subject to dwell upon, though, surely, the other must never be omitted, in preaching Christ. It is too much lost sight of in our preaching. We do not sufficiently press home upon the conscience of the sinner, Christ both in life and death, as a test of nature's true condition, and a proof of its irremediable ruin. The law may be used, and rightly so, no doubt, to do its testing work in the conscience, and yet, through the blindness and folly of our hearts, we may attempt to take up that very law in order to work out a righteousness for ourselves—that law by which, when rightly viewed, is the knowledge of sin. But it is impossible for any one to have his eves opened to see the death of Christ as the terrible exhibition of the enmity of the heart against God, and not be convinced of this that he is utterly and hopelessly ruined and undone. This is true repentance. It is the moral judgment, not merely of my acts, but of my nature, in the light of the cross as the only perfect test of what that nature really is.

All this is very fully brought out, in the preaching of Peter, in the earlier chapters of the Acts of the Apostles. Look, for example, at the second chapter, where we find the Holy Ghost presenting Christ both as a test and as a victim. " Ye men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a man approved of God among you, by miracles and wonders and signs, which God did, by him, in the midst of you, as ye yourselves also know. Him, being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain; whom God hath raised up, having loosed the pains of death; because it was not possible that he should be holden of it........Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly, that God hath made that same Jesus, whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ."

Here we have solemn and pungent dealing with conscience as to the way in which they had treated the Lord's Anointed. It was not merely that they had broken the law; that was true; nor yet that they had merely rejected all the inferior messengers, the minor witnesses that had been sent to them; that was equally true, but that was not all; they had actually crucified and slain " a man approved of God," and that Man none other than the Son of God Himself. This was the naked and startling fact which the inspired preacher urges home, with solemn emphasis, upon the consciences of his hearers.

And, mark the result! "Now, when they heard this, they were pricked in their hearts, and said unto Peter and to the rest of the apostles, Men and brethren, what shall we do?" No marvel, surely, that they were pierced to the very heart. Their eyes were open, and what did they discover? Why, that they were actually at issue with God Himself—the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And about what were they at issue? About the law? Kay. About the prophets? Nay. About the rites and ceremonies, the statutes and institutions of the Mosaic economy? Nay. All this was true, and bad enough. But there was something far beyond all this. Their guilt had reached its culminating point in the rejection and crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. "The God of Abrahams and of Isaac, and of Jacob, the God of our fathers, hath glorified his Son Jesus, whom ye delivered up, and denied him in the presence of Pilate, when he was determined to let him go. But ye denied the Holy One and the Just, and desired a murderer to be granted unto you; and killed the prince of life, whom God hath raised from the dead j whereof we are witnesses."

This truly was and is the climax of man's guilt, and when brought home, in the mighty energy of the Holy Ghost, to any heart in all this world, it must produce true repentance, and evoke from the depths of the soul the earnest inquiry, " Men and brethren, what shall I do? " " Sirs, what must I do to be saved? " It is not merely that we have failed in keeping the law, in doing our duty to God, and our duty to our neighbor, in living as we ought; all this alas! is but too true. But oh! we have been guilty of the dreadful sin of crucifying the Son of God. Such is the measure of human guilt, and such was the truth pressed home by Peter on the consciences of the men of his time.

And what then? When the sharp edge of this powerful testimony had penetrated the hearts of the hearers—when the arrow from the quiver of the Almighty had pierced the soul, and drawn forth the bitter penitential cry, '·' What shall we do? " What was the answer? What had the preacher to say? " Repent and be baptized, every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost." So also in the third chapter, he says, " And now, brethren, I wot that through ignorance ye did it, as did also your rulers. But those things which God before had showed by the mouth of all his prophets, that Christ should suffer, he hath so fulfilled. Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted cut, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord."

Here, then, we have the two things, very distinctly, presented, namely, Christ as a test and Christ as a victim—the cross as the exhibition of man's guilt, and the cross as the exhibition of the love of God. " Ye killed the Prince of life." Here was the arrow for the conscience. "But those things which God before had showed that Christ should suffer, he hath so fulfilled." Here was the healing balm. It was the determinate counsel of God that Christ should suffer, and, while it was perfectly true that man had displayed his hatred of God in nailing Jesus to the cross, yet no sooner is any soul made sensible of this, and thus brought to divine conviction, than the Holy Ghost holds up to view that very cross as the foundation of the counsels of redeeming love, and the ground of the full remission of sins to every true believer.

Thus it was, in that most touching scene between Joseph and his brethren, as recorded in Gen. 44 and xiv. The guilty brethren are made to pass through deep and painful exercises of heart, until, at length, they stand in the presence of their injured brother, with the arrow of conviction piercing their inmost soul. Then, but not until then, these soothing accents fall upon their ears, "Now, therefore, be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither; for God did send me before you to preserve life........So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God,"

Exquisite, matchless grace! The moment they entered the place of confession, Joseph was in the place of forgiveness. This was divine. " He spake roughly to them," when they were thoughtless as to their sin; but no sooner did they give utterance to these words, " We are verily guilty concerning our brother," than they were met by the sweet response of grace, " It was not you, but God."

Thus it is, beloved reader, in every case. The very instant the sinner takes the place of contrition, God takes the place of full and free forgiveness; and, most assuredly, when God forgives, the sinner is forgiven. " I said, / will confess my transgressions unto the Lord, and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin." Psalm 32

And would we have it otherwise? Surely not. An hard heart, an unbroken spirit, an unreached conscience, could not understand, or make a right use of such words as, "Be not grieved; it was not you, but God." How could it? How could an impenitent heart appreciate accents which are only designed to soothe and tranquillize a broken and contrite spirit? Impossible. To tell a hard hearted impenitent sinner not to be grieved, would be fatally false treatment. Joseph could not possibly have said to his brethren, " Be not grieved with yourselves" until they had said and felt " We are verily guilty."

Such is the order, and it is well to remember it. " I will confess, and thou forgavest." The moment the sinner takes his true place in the presence of God, there is not one syllable said to him about his sins except it be to tell him that they are all forgiven and all forgotten. " Their sins and iniquities will I remember no more." God not only forgives but forgets. The convicted sinner stands and gazes upon the cross, and sees himself in the light of the glory of Christ, as the divine and perfect test, and cries out, " What shall I do? 'é How is he answered? By the unfolding of Christ, as a victim, slain by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself.

And who can define the feelings of a soul that has been convicted of desiring a murderer and crucifying the Son of God, when he learns that that very crucified One is the channel of pardon and life to him—that the blood which was shed puts away forever the guilt of shedding it? What language can adequately set forth the emotion of one who has seen his guilt, not merely in the light of the ten commandments, but as shown out in the cross of a world-rejected Jesus; and yet knows and believes that his guilt is all and forever put away? Who could attempt to embody in language the feelings of Joseph's brethren when they felt his tears of affection dropping upon them? What a scene! Tears of contrition and tears of affection mingled! Precious mixture! The mind of God alone can duly estimate its value and sweetness.

But here let us just guard against misunderstanding. Let no one suppose, for a moment, that tears of contrition are the procuring cause of pardon, or the meritorious ground of peace. Far—far away be the thought from the reader's mind! All the tears of contrition that ever gushed forth from the fountains of broken hearts, from the days of Joseph's brethren to the days of the third of Acts, and from these latter to the present moment, could not form the just foundation of a sinner's acceptance and peace with God, or wash away a single stain from the human conscience. The blood of the divine Victim, and that alone, in prospect from the fall of man to Calvary, and in retrospect, from Calvary till this moment—naught save that precious blood—that atoning death—that peerless sacrifice could justify a holy God in forgiving one sin. But, blessed be God, so perfectly has that sacrifice vindicated and glorified His Name, that the very moment any sinner sees his true state—his guilt—his rebellion—his enmity—his base ingratitude—iris hatred of God and of His Christ; the very moment he takes the place of true contrition in the divine presence—the place of one utterly broken down, without plea or palliation—that moment, infinite grace meets him with those healing, soothing, tranquillizing words, "Be not grieved"—" your sins and iniquities will I remember no more יי—" Go in peace."

Some might suppose that we attach undue importance to the measure of contrition, or that we mean to teach that every one must feel the same character or degree of conviction as was produced by Peter's powerful appeal in the second of Acts. Nothing is further from our thoughts. We believe there must and there will be conviction and contrition; and further we believe that the cross is the only adequate measure of human guilt—that it is only in the light of that cross that any one can have a just sense of the vileness, sinfulness, and loathsomeness of his nature. But all may not see this. Many there are who never think of the cross as a test and proof of their guilt, but merely at the blessed ground of their pardon. They are bowed down under a sense of their manifold sins and shortcomings, and they look to the cross of Christ as the alone ground of pardon; and, most surely they are right. But there is something deeper than this. There is a deeper view of sin—a deeper sense of what human nature, in its fallen state, really is—a deeper conviction of the utterly godless and christless condition of the heart. And where is this to be reached? At the cross, and there alone. It will never do to look back at the men of the first century, and say what terrible sinners they were to crucify the living embodiment of all that was holy and good, gracious and pure. No; what is needed is to bring the cross forward into this our own nineteenth century and measure nature, the world, and self thereby.

This, be assured of it, reader, is the true way to judge the question. There is no real change. "Crucify him! Crucify him!" is as positively the cry of the world of the nineteenth century as it was of the world of the first. The cross was, then, and is, now, the only true measure of human guilt; and when any one, man, woman, or child is brought to see this, he has a far deeper sense of his condition than ever he can have by looking at his sins and short-comings in the light of conscience, or of the ten commandments.

And to what, let us inquire, will all this lead the soul? What will be the effect of seeing self in the light which the cross, as a test, throws upon it? The deepest self-abhorrence. Yes, and this holds good in the case of the most refined moralist, and amiable pietist that ever lived, just as much as in the case of the grossest and vilest sinner. It is no longer a question of grades and shades of character, to be settled by the graduated scale of human conscience or the moral sense. 011! no; the cross is seen as the only perfect standard. Nature, the world, the heart, self, is measured by that standard, and its true condition reached and judged.

We are intensely anxious that the reader should thoroughly enter into this point. If we mistake not, he will find it to be of immense moral power in forming his convictions, both as to his own heart, and as to the real character of the world through which he is passing—its moral foundations—its framework—its features—its principles—its spirit—its aim—its end. We want him to take the cross as the perfect measure of himself and all around him. Let him not listen to the suggestions of Satan, to the thoughts that spring up in his own heart, to the vaporings of philosophy and science, falsely so-called, to the infidel vauntings of this pre-eminently infidel age. Let him listen to the voice of holy scripture, which is the voice of the living God. Let him use the test which scripture furnishes, and that is a crucified Christ, and let him try all by that, and see where that will lead him. One thing is certain, it will lead him down, in his own self-consciousness, into those profound depths where naught can avail him save Christ as the divine Victim who bore the judgment of God against sin, and opened heaven to the sinner.

(To be continued if the Lord will.)

Preaching Christ: What Is It? Part 3

Having, in our numbers for March and April, sought to present Christ as a test, and Christ as a victim, we shall now, in dependence upon divine guidance and teaching, proceed to consider Him, as

THE MODEL,

to which the Holy Ghost seeks to conform every true believer. This will give great completeness to our subject, and open up a wide field of thought to the christian reader. God has predestinated His people to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. (Rom. 8) But how, it may be asked, can we ever be formed after such a model? How can we ever think of being conformed to such an image? The answer to these inquiries will unfold, still more fully, the blessedness and infinite value of the truth which has already passed before us. If the reader has followed the line of thought we have been pursuing—if he has experimentally entered into it, or if it has entered into him, in the power of the Spirit of God—if, in a word, he has made his own of it, he will see, and feel, and own, that in himself, by nature, there is not a single atom of good, not one point on which he can rest his hopes for eternity. He will see that, so far as he is concerned, he is a total wreck; and, moreover, that the divine purpose, as revealed in the gospel, is not to reconstruct this moral wreck, but to erect an entirely new thing. Of this new thing, the cross of Christ is the foundation.

The reader cannot ponder this too deeply. Christianity is not the old nature made better, but the new nature implanted. " Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." (John 3) " If any man be in Christ, he is a new creation; old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. And all things are of God who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation." 2 Cor. 5

The effect of the mission of Christ to this world was to prove, as nothing else could have proved, man's totally irremediable ruin. When man rejected and crucified the Son of God, his ease was proved to be hopeless. It is of the deepest importance to be thoroughly clear as to this. It solves a thousand difficulties, and clears the prospect of many a dark and heavy cloud. So long as a man 18 possessed with the idea that he must improve his nature, by any process whatever, so long he must be a total stranger to the fundamental truth of Christianity.

There is, alas! a fearful amount of darkness and error abroad, in the professing Church, as to this simple truth of the gospel. Man's total ruin is denied or reasoned away, in one way or another; and the very truths of Christianity as well as the institutions of the Mosaic economy, are made use of to improve fallen nature and fit it for the presence of God. Thus the true nature of sin is not felt; the claims of holiness are not understood; the free, full, and sovereign grace of God is set aside; and the sacrificial death of Christ is thrown overboard.

The sense of all this makes us long for more earnestness, power, and faithfulness in setting forth those old foundation truths which are constantly affirmed and maintained in the New Testament. We believe it to be the solemn duty of every writer and every speaker, of all authors, editors, preachers, and teachers to make a firm stand against the strong current of opposition to the simplest truths of divine revelation, so painfully and alarmingly apparent in every direction. There is an urgent demand for faithfulness in maintaining the standard of pure truth, not in a spirit of controversy, but in meekness, earnestness, and simplicity. We want to have Christ preached as a test of all that is in man—in nature—in the world. We want Christ preached as a victim, bearing all that was due to our sins; and we want Him preached as a model on which we are to be formed, in all things.

This is Christianity. It is not fallen nature trying to work out righteousness by keeping the law of Moses. Neither is it fallen nature striving to imitate Christ. No; it is the complete setting aside of fallen nature, as an utterly good-for-nothing thing, and the reception of a crucified and risen Christ, as the foundation of all our hopes for time and eternity. How could the unrenewed sinner get righteousness by keeping the law, by the which is the knowledge of sin? How could he ever set about such a work as "The imitation of Christ?" Utterly impossible. " He must be born again." He must get new life in Christ, ere he can exhibit Christ. This cannot be too strongly insisted upon. For an unconverted man to think of imitating the example, or walk in the footsteps of Jesus, is the most hopeless thing in the world. Ah! no; the only effect of looking at the blessed example of Jesus is to put us in the dust in self-abasement and true contrition; and when from this place we lift our eyes to the cross of Calvary to which Jesus was nailed, as our surety, our sin-bearer, our divine substitute, we see pardon and peace flowing down to us through His most precious sacrifice; then, bat not until then, we can calmly and happily sit down to study Him as our model.

Thus, if I look at the life of Jesus, apart from His atoning death—if I measure myself by that perfect standard—if I think of working myself into conformity to such an image, it must plunge me in utter despair. But when I behold that perfect, spotless, holy One bearing my sins in His own body on the tree—when I see Him laying in His death and resurrection the everlasting foundation of life, and peace, and glory for me, then, with a peaceful conscience, and liberated heart, I can look back over the whole of that marvelous life and see therein how I am to walk, for " He has left us an example, that we should follow his steps." Thus, while Christ, as a test, shows me my guilt; Christ, as a victim, cancels that guilt; and Christ, as a model, shines before the vision of my soul, as the standard at which I am to aim continually. In a word, Christ is my life, and Christ is my model; and the Holy Ghost, who has taken up His abode in me, on the ground of accomplished redemption, works in me for the purpose of conforming me to the image of Christ. True, I must ever feel and own how infinitely short I come of that lofty standard; still, Christ is my life, though the manifestation of that life is sadly hindered by the infirmities and corruptions of my old nature. The life is the same, as the Apostle John says, " Which thing is true in him and in you, because the darkness is past, and the true light now shineth." (1 John 2:8.) We can never be satisfied with aught less than this, namely, " Christ, our life—Christ, our model." " For mo to live is Christ." It was Christ reproduced, in the daily life of Paul, by the power of the Holy Ghost.

This is true Christianity. It is not flesh turned religious and leading a pious life. It is not unrenewed, fallen, ruined nature trying to recover itself, by rites and ceremonies, prayers, alms, and vigils. It is not the old man turning from " wicked works" to " dead works"—exchanging the gin palace, the theater, the gaming table, and the race course, for the cloister, the pew, the meeting house, or the lecture haft. No, reader; it is " Christ in you, the hope of glory;" and Christ reproduced in your daily life, by the powerful ministry of God the Holy Ghost.

Be not deceived! It is of no possible use for fallen nature to clothe itself in forms of piety. It may do so—it may betake itself to the attractive appliances of ritualism—to sacred music—pious pictures—sculpture—architecture—dim religious light—it may scatter, in princely profusion, the fruits of a large-hearted benevolence—it may visit the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shed on all around the sunshine of a genial philanthropy—it may read the Bible and go through every form of religious routine—it may even attempt a specious and hollow imitation of Christ—schoolmen may discipline it, quietists may subdue it, mystics may enwrap it in their cloudy reveries, and lead it into quiet contemplation, with nothing to contemplate—in short, all that religion, morality, and philosophy can do for it and with it, may be done, and all in vain, inasmuch as it still remains true that, " That which is born of the flesh is flesh"—" It cannot see or enter the kingdom of God"—" ye must be born again."

Here lies the deep and solid, the divine and eternal foundation of Christianity. There must be the life of Christ in the soul—the link with " the Second Man, the last Adam." The first man has been condemned and set aside. The Second Man came and stood beside the first, He proved him and tested him, and showed out, most fully, that there was not a single ingredient in his nature, his character, or his condition which could be made available in that new creation, that heavenly kingdom which was about to be introduced—that not a single stone or timber in the old building could be worked into the new—that " in the flesh dwelleth no good thing"—and, finally, that the ground must be thoroughly cleared of all the rubbish of ruined humanity, and the foundation laid in the death of the Second Man, who, in resurrection, has become, as the last Adam, the Head of the new creation. Apart from Him there is, and can be, no life. " He that hath the Son hath life; he that hath not the Son of God hath not life." 1 John 5:12.

Such is the conclusive language of Holy Scripture, and this language must hold good, in spite of all the reasonings of those who boast themselves in their liberal and enlightened views—the compass of their intellectual powers—and the breadth of their theology. It matters but little indeed what men may think or say; we have only to hearken to the word of our God which must stand forever, and that word declares, " Ye must be born again." Men cannot alter this. There is a kingdom which can never be moved, and, in order to see or enter this heavenly kingdom, we must be born again. Man has been tried in every way, and proved wanting, and now, " Once, in the end of the ages, hath Christ appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself." Heb. 9:26.

This is the only ground of life and peace, and when the soul is firmly settled thereon, it can find its delight in studying Christ as its model. It is done with all its own poor efforts to obtain life, pardon, and the favor of God; it flings aside its " deadly doings;" it has found life in Jesus, and now its grand business is to study Him, to mark His footsteps and walk therein—to do as He did, to aim always at being like Him; to seek, in everything, to be conformed to Him. The great question for the Christian, on all occasions, is not, " What harm is there in this or that?" but, "Is this like Christ?" He is our divine, pattern. Are husbands exhorted to love their wives? It is " As Christ loved the church." What a model! Who can ever come up to it? No one; but we are still to keep it before us; and thus we shall enter into the truth of those lines of our own poet,

" The more thy glories strike mine eyes,

The humbler I shall lie,

Thus while I sink, my joys shall rise

Immeasurably high."

The christian reader will, at once, perceive what a wide field of practical truth is opened up by this closing point in our subject. What an unspeakable privilege to be able, day by day, to sit down and study the life and ways of our Great Exemplar—to see what He was—to mark His words, His spirit, His style—to trace Him in all the details of His marvelous path—to note how "He went about doing good"—how it was His meat and His drink to do the will of God, and to minister to the need of man. And then to think that He loves us, that He died for us, that He is cur life, that He has given us of His Spirit to be the spring of power in our souls, for the subjugation of all that is of the old root of self, and the producing, in our daily life, the expression of Christ.

What mortal tongue can unfold the preciousness of all this? It is not living by rules and regulations—it is not in pursuing a dead round of duties—it is not in subscribing to certain dogmas of religious belief—no; it is union with Christ and the manifestation of Christ. This, we repeat, and reiterate, and would impress upon the reader, this and nothing less, nothing different, is true, genuine, living Christianity. Let him see that he possesses it, for if not, he is dead in trespasses and sins; he is far from God, and far from the kingdom of God. But if, on the other hand, he has been led to believe on the name of the only begotten Son of God; if as a consciously ruined and guilty sinner he has fled for refuge to the blood of the cross, then, in very deed, Christ is his life, and it should be his one unvarying object, day by day, to study his model, to fix his eye on the headline and aim at coming as near to that as possible. This is the true secret of all practical godliness and sanctification. It is this which alone constitutes a living Christianity, and it stands in vivid contrast with what is commonly called " a religious life," which, alas! very often resolves itself into a mere dead routine, a rigid adherence to lifeless forms, a barren ritualism, which, so far from exhibiting aught of the freshness and reality of the new man in Christ, is positively a distortion of nature itself. Christianity brings a living Christ into the heart, and into the life. It diffuses, thus, a divine influence all around. It enters into all the relations and associations of human life. It teaches us how to act as husbands, as fathers, as masters, as children, as servants. It teaches us not by dry rules and regulations, but by setting before us, in the Person of Christ, a perfect model of what we ought to be. It presents to our view the very One who, as a test, left us without a single plea, and, as a victim, left us without a single stain, and who now, as our model, is to be the subject of our admiring study, and the standard at which we are ever and only to aim. It does not matter where we are or what we are, provided Christ be dwelling in the heart, and exhibited in the daily life. If we have Him in the heart and before the eye, it will regulate everything; and if we have not Him, we have nothing.

We shall here close our paper; not, surely, because our theme is exhausted, but because it is inexhaustible, and further because we believe that the Spirit of God alone can open the subject and apply it, in living power and freshness to the soul of the reader, and thus lead him into a higher type of Christianity than is ordinarily exhibited, in this day of widely extended and worldly profession. May the Lord stir up all our hearts, to seek greater nearness to Himself, and more faithful conformity to Him, in all our ways! May we be enabled to say, with a little more truth and sincerity, " Our citizenship is in heaven; from whence also we look for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change the body of our humiliation, that it may be fashioned like unto his body of glory, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself."

The Priest's Place and Portion

(Read Lev. 6:14-18.)

These verses present three things to our notice, in connection with " the law of the meat offering," namely, the priest, his place, and his portion.

I. The Priest, All the sons of Aaron were priests. They became such by birth. They were born into this highly-privileged position. They did not reach it by effort, but simply by birth. Being sons of Aaron, they were, of necessity, priests. They might be disqualified for the discharge of the functions of their position, through bodily blemish or ceremonial defilement; (see Lev. 21; 22) but as to the position itself, it was a necessary result of their being sons of Aaron. Position is one thing; ability to discharge the functions, or capacity to enjoy the privileges thereof, is quite another. A dwarf among the sons of Aaron was deprived of many of the higher priestly dignities; but even a dwarf was to " eat the bread of his God, of the most holy, and of the holy." God would not leave the feeblest or most diminutive member of the priestly household without a holy portion. " Only he shall not go in unto the veil, nor come nigh unto the altar, because he hath a blemish, that he profane not my sanctuaries: for I the Lord do sanctify them. A dwarf could not attend upon the altar of God; but the God of the altar took care of the dwarf. The two things are divinely perfect. God’s claims have been perfectly answered, and the need of His priestly family perfectly met.

II. The place. The place where the priest was to partake of his portion teaches us a most valuable lesson of practical holiness. " With unleavened bread shall it be eaten in the holy place, in the court of the tabernacle of the congregation they shall eat it," That is to say, it is only in the power of personal holiness, and in the immediate presence of God, that we can really partake of our priestly portion. The way in which we get the place exhibits absolute grace. The place which we get demands personal holiness. To speak of effort in reaching the place, is the fallacy of legalism. To think of unholiness in the place, is the blasphemy of antinomianism. I reach the position, only through grace. I occupy the position, only in holiness. The pathway to the sanctuary has been thrown open by free grace; but it is to the sanctuary of God that grace has opened the pathway. These things must never be forgotten. We want to have them graven on the tablets of the conscience, and hidden in the chambers of the heart.

III. The portion. And, now, as to the portion. "This is the law of the meat offering: the sons of Aaron shall offer it before the Lord, before the altar. And he shall take of it his handful, of the flour of the meat offering, and of the oil thereof, and all the frankincense thereof, and shall burn it upon the altar for a sweet savor, even the memorial of it unto the Lord. And the remainder thereof shall Aaron and his sons eat." The fine flour and oil typify Christ's perfect manhood, conceived and anointed by the Holy Ghost. This is the portion of God's priests, to be enjoyed in the sanctuary of the divine presence, in separation of heart unto God. It is utterly impossible that we can enjoy Christ any where else but in the presence of God; or in any other way than personal holiness. To speak of enjoying Christ while living in worldliness, indulging in pride, gratifying our lusts, giving a loose rein to our temper and passions, is a fatal delusion. "If we say that we have fellowship with him and walk in darkness, we lie and do not the truth." (1 John 1:6.) The two things are wholly incompatible. " Fellowship with God" and "walking in darkness" are as diametrically opposed as heaven and hell.

Thus, then, the place of all true priests—all believers -all members of the priestly household, is to be within the sacred precincts of the sanctuary, in the immediate presence of God, feeding upon Christ in the power of personal holiness. All this we are taught in " the law of the meat offering."

But, let the reader note particularly that " all the frankincense" was consumed on the altar. Why was this? Because that frankincense typified the fragrance of Christ's manhood as enjoyed exclusively by God Himself. There was that in Christ, as a man, down here, which only God could duly appreciate. Every thought, every look, every word, every movement, every act of "the man Christ Jesus" emitted a fragrance which went up directly to the throne of God, and refreshed the heart of Him who sat thereon. Not a single atom of Christ's perfectness or preciousness was ever lost. It might be lost on a cold, heartless world, and even upon carnal and earthly-minded disciples, but it was not lost upon God. It all went up to Him according to its true value.

This is a spring of joy and comfort to the spiritual mind. When we think of how the blessed Lord Jesus was depreciated in this world, how little even His own disciples understood or valued Him, how the rarest and most exquisite touches and traits of His perfect humanity were lost upon a rude and unbelieving world, and even upon His own people, what a comfort to remember that He was perfectly understood and appreciated by the One who sat on the throne! There was an unbroken line of communication kept up between the heart of Jesus and the heart of God—the cloud of incense was continually ascending to the throne from the only perfect Man that ever trod this cursed and groaning earth. Not a grain of the incense was lost, because not a grain was entrusted even into the hands of the priests. All went up to God. Nothing was lost. The world might despise and hate; the disciples might fail to understand or appreciate; what then? Was a single ray of Christ's moral glory to go for naught?

Surely not; all was duly estimated by Him for whom it was designed and who alone could value it aright. This was true in every stage of Christ's precious life down here, and when we reach the end, and see the climax, when one disciple sold Him for thirty pieces of silver, another cursed and swore he knew Him not, all forsook Him and fled, the world nailed Him to an ignominious cross between two thieves, God showed to the universe how much He differed from all the thoughts of men by placing the crucified One on the throne of the Majesty in the heavens.

Thus much as to the primary application of the incense which, unquestionably, is to Christ. We may also observe that it has a secondary application to the believer which he should seek to understand. True Christianity is the outflow of the life of Christ in the believer's practical ways, and this is most precious to God, though it may be lost upon an unbelieving world, and even upon a professing church. There is not a movement of the life of Christ in the believer, not an expression of what He is, not the smallest manifestation of His grace that does not ascend, directly, as sweet incense, to the throne of God. It may not attract the notice or elicit the applause of this world. It may not get a place in the records of men; but it goes up to God, and this is enough for the faithful heart. God values all that is of Christ, nothing more, nothing else. There may be much that looks like service—much show -much noise—much that men make a great ado about! but nothing goes up to the throne—nothing is entered in the imperishable records of eternity but that which is the fruit of the life of Christ in the soul.

May God the Holy Ghost lead us into the experimental understanding of these things, and bring forth in us, day by day, a brighter and fuller manifestation of Christ to the glory of God the Father!

Privilege and Responsibility

(Read Deut. 20:1-9.)

Privilege and responsibility! Yes, this is the divine order; and how important it is, in dealing with the things of God, to place them in the order in which he places them, and leave them there! The human mind is ever prone to displace things; and hence it is that we so frequently find the responsibilities, which attach to the people of God, pressed upon those who are yet in their sins. This is a great mistake. I must be in a position before I can fulfill the responsibilities attaching thereto. I must be in a relationship before I can know the affections which belong to it. If I am not a father, how can I know or exhibit the affections of a father's heart? Impossible. I may descant upon them, and attempt to describe them; but, in order to feel them, I must be a father.

Thus it is in the things of God. I must be in a position before I can enter into the responsibilities which belong to it. I must be in a relationship before I can understand the affections which flow out of it. Man has been tested in every possible way. He has been tried in creation. He has been tried under divine government. He has been tried under law. He has been tried with ordinances. He has been tried by the ministry of the prophets. He has been tried by the ministry of righteousness, in the person of John the Baptist. He has been tried by the ministry of grace, in the Person of Christ. He has been tried by the ministry of the Holy Ghost. What has been the result? Total failure! An unbroken chain of testimony from Paradise to Pentecost has only tended to make manifest man's utter failure in every possible way. In every position of responsibility, in which man has been set, he has broken down. Not so much as a single exception can be adduced.

So much for man's responsibility. He has proved himself unfaithful in everything. He has not a single inch of ground to stand upon. He has destroyed himself, but in God is his help. Grace has come in, in the Person of Christ, and perfectly met man's desperate case. The cross is the divine remedy for all the ruin, and by that cross the believer is introduced into a place of divine and everlasting privilege. Christ has met all the need, answered all the demands, discharged all the responsibilities, and, having done so by his death upon the cross, He has become, in resurrection, the basis of all the believer's privileges. We have all in Christ, and we get Him, not because we have fulfilled our responsibilities, but because God loved us even when we had failed in everything. We find ourselves, unconditionally, in a place of unspeakable privilege. "We did not work ourselves into it; we did not weep ourselves into it; we did not pray ourselves into it; we did not fast ourselves into it. We were taken up from the depth of our ruin, from that deep, deep pit into which we had fallen, in consequence of having failed in all our responsibilities; we have been set down, by God's free grace, in a position of unspeakable blessedness and privilege, of which nothing can ever deprive us. Not all the powers of hell and earth combined; not all the malice of Satan and his emissaries; not all the power of sin, death, and the grave, arrayed in their most terrific form, can ever rob the believer in Je

My reader cannot be too simple in his apprehension of this. We do not reach our place of privilege as the result of faithfulness in the place of responsibility. Quite the reverse. We have failed in everything. " All have sinned and come short of the glory of God." We deserved death; but we have received life. We deserved hell; but we have received heaven. We deserved eternal wrath; but we have received eternal favor. Grace has entered the scene, and it " reigns through righteousness, unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord."

Hence, then, in the economy of grace, privilege becomes the basis of responsibility, and this is beautifully illustrated in the passage of scripture which stands at the head of this paper. I shall quote it for my reader, lest he should not have his Bible at hand. " When thou goest out to battle against thine enemies, and seest horses, and chariots, and a people more than thou, be not afraid of them: for the Lord thy God is with thee, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt. And it shall be, when ye are come nigh unto the battle that the priest shall approach, and speak unto the people, and shall say unto them, Hear, Ο Israel; ye approach this day unto battle against your enemies; let not your hearts faint; fear not, and do not tremble, neither be ye terrified because of them; for the Lord your God is he that goeth with you, to fight for you against your enemies, to save you."

Here we have Israel's privileges distinctly set forth. " The Lord thy God is with thee," and that, moreover, in the very character in which He had brought them up out of the land of Egypt. He was with them in the power of that sovereign grace which had delivered them from the iron grasp of Pharaoh, and the iron bondage of Egypt, which had conducted them through the sea, and led them across " the great and terrible wilderness." This made victory sure. No enemy could possibly stand before Jehovah acting in unqualified grace on behalf of His people.

And let my reader note carefully, that there is not a single condition proposed by the priest in the above quotation. He states, in the most absolute way, the relationship and consequent privilege of the Israel of God. He does not say, " The Lord thy God will be with you, if you do so and so." This would not be the proper language of one who stood before the people of God as the exponent of those privileges which grace had conferred upon them. Grace proposes no conditions, raises no barriers, makes no stipulations. Its language is, " The Lord thy God is with thee....he goeth with you.... to fight for you.... to save you." When Jehovah fights for His people they are sure of victory. "If God be for us, who can be against us? Grant me but this, that God is with me, and I argue full victory over every spiritual foe.

Thus much as to the question of privilege: let us now turn, for a moment, to the question of responsibility.

"And the officers shall speak unto the people, saying, What man is there that hath built a new house, and hath not dedicated it? let him go and return to his house lest he die in the battle, and another man dedicate it. And what man is he that hath planted a vineyard, and hath not yet eaten of it? let him also go and return to his house, lest he die in the battle, and another man eat of it. And what man is there that hath betrothed a wife, and hath not taken her? let him go and return unto his house, lest he die in the battle, and another man take her. And the officers shall speak further unto the people, and they shall say, What man is there that is fearful and fainthearted? let him go and return unto his house, lest his brethren's heart faint as well as his heart."

There is uncommon moral beauty in the order in which the priest and the officer are introduced in this passage. The former is the exponent of Israel's privileges; the latter, of Israel's responsibilities. But how interesting it is to see that, before the officers were permitted to address the assembly on the grand question of responsibility, the priest had established them in the knowledge of their precious privilege. Imagine the case reversed. Suppose the officer's voice had first been heard, and what would have been the result? Fear, depression, and discouragement. To press responsibility before I know my position—to call for affections ere I am in the relationship, is to place an intolerable yoke upon the neck—an insufferable burden upon the shoulder. This is not God's way. If you search from Genesis to Revelation, you will find, without so much as a single exception, that the divine order is privilege and responsibility. Set me upon the rock of privilege, and I am in a position to understand and fulfill my responsibility; but talk to me of responsibility while yet in the pit of ruin, the mire of legality, or the slough υί despond, and you rob me of all hope of ever rising into that hallowed sphere, upon which the sunlight of divine favor pours itself in living luster, and where alone responsibilities can be discharged to the glory of the name of Jesus.

Some there are who talk to us of "gospel conditions" Who ever heard of a gospel fenced with conditions? We can understand law-conditions; but a gospel with conditions is "a different gospel, which is not another." (Gal. 1:6, 7.) Conditions to be fulfilled by the creature pertain not to the gospel, but to the law. Man has been tried under all possible conditions. And what has been the issue? Failure! Yes, failure only—failure continually. Man is a ruin—a wreck—a bankrupt. Of what use can it ever be to place such an one under conditions, even though you should call them by the anomalous title of " gospel conditions?" None whatever. Man, under any kind of conditions, can only prove unfaithful. He has been weighed in the balance and found wanting. He has been condemned, root and branch. " They that are in the flesh cannot please God." It does not say, " they that are in the body." No: but " they that are in the flesh" But the believer is not in the flesh, though in the body. He is not looked at in his old-creation standing—in his old Adamic condition, in which he has been tried and condemned. Christ has come down and died under the full weight of his guilt He has taken the sinner's place, with all its liabilities, and by His death settled everything. He lay in the grave after having answered every claim and silenced every enemy. Justice, law, sin, death, wrath, judgment, Satan, everything, and every one. There lay the divine Surety in the silent tomb; and God entered the scene, raised Him from the dead, set Him at His own right hand in the heavens, sent down the Holy Ghost to testify to a risen and exalted Savior, and to unite to Him, as thus risen and exalted, all who believe in His name.

Here, then, we get on to new ground altogether. We can now listen to the officer as he tells out in our hearing the claims of Christ upon all those who are united to Him. The priest has spoken to us, and told us of the imperishable ground which we occupy, the indestructible relationship in which we stand, and now we are in a position to listen to the one who stands before us as the exponent of our high and holy responsibilities. Had " the officer " come first, we should have fled from his presence, discouraged and dismayed by the weight and solemnity of his words, and giving utterance to the despairing inquiry, " Who then can be saved?" But, inasmuch as " the priest "—the minister of grace—the exponent of privilege, has set us upon our feet in the new creation, and strengthened our hearts by unfolding the unconditional grace in which we stand, we can listen to the " commandments " of the officer, and find them "not grievous," because they come to us from off the mercy-seat.

And what does the officer say to us? Just this: "No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life." This is the sum and substance of the officer's message. He demands, on the part of God's warriors, a disentangled heart. It is not a question of salvation, of being a child of God, of being a true Israelite; it is simply a question of ability to wage an effectual warfare; and, clearly, a man cannot fight well if his heart is entangled with " a house," " a vineyard," or " a wife/'

Nor was it a question of having such things. By no means. Thousands of those, who went forth to tread the battle-field, and gather the spoils of victory, had houses, and lands, and domestic tics. The officers had no quarrel with the possessors of these things; the only point was, not to be entangled with them. The apostle does not say, "No man that warreth engages in the affairs of this life." Had he said this, we should all have to live in idleness and isolation, whereas he distinctly teaches us, elsewhere, that, " If any man will not work, neither shall he eat." The grand point is to keep the heart disentangled. God's warriors must hare free hearts, and the only way to be free is to cast all our care upon Him who careth for us. I can stand in the battle-field with a free heart when I have placed my house, my vineyard, and my wife, in the divine keeping.

But, further, God's warriors must have courageous hearts as well as free hearts. " The fearful and the faint-hearted" can never stand in the battle, or wear the laurel of victory. Our hearts must be disentangled from the world, and bold by reason of our artless confidence in God; and, be it well remembered, that these things are not " gospel conditions:' but gospel results—a deeply-important distinction. What a mistake to speak of gospel conditions! It is simply the old leaven of legality presented in a new and strange form, and dubbed with a name which, in itself, involves a contradiction. If those precious clusters which are the result of union with the living Vine, be set forth as the necessary conditions of that union, what must become of the sinner? Where shall we get them if not in Christ? And how do we become united to Christ? Is it by conditions? Nay; but by faith.

May the Holy Ghost instruct my reader as to the divine order of "privilege and responsibility!"

A Letter to a Friend on the Study of the Book of Psalms

Dear Friend, You desire a little light on the Book of Psalms, and especially to know how they are divided. We can do little more, in our brief space, than give you a mere hint or two.

In the first place, then, it is important, in approaching the study of this most precious book, to remember that, in its primary aspect, it is for God's earthly people Israel. This is very clear from Rom. 3:19, where the apostle, after quoting from the Psalms, goes on to say, " Now we know, that what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law." This marks the application of the Psalm with great distinctness. It is to them who are under the law. Hence, when you come to study them, you do not find in them the knowledge of full redemption—you do not hear the cry of " Abba"—you do not trace the breathings of the spirit of adoption—the spirit of liberty. Son ship and an indwelling Spirit are unknown to souls under the law.

True it is, you get most precious piety in the Psalms—-real confidence in, and looking to, God—an earnest thirsting after Him. All this we may well cultivate and long after. But, on the other hand, you find the soul oft-times in a state of bondage and fear, dreading the wrath of God, and sighing for deliverance. And, further, you continually listen to the cry for vengeance upon enemies, the calling upon God to judge them—things perfectly consonant with a legal state and an earthly standing, but wholly unsuited to a people in the enjoyment of grace, knowing redemption, and consciously standing in the relationship of children.

Hence, then, dear friend, it would be a great mistake for a Christian—a child of God—a heavenly man, to go back to the position of soul presented in the Psalms, or to make the language of those Psalm the measure of his piety or of his experience. No doubt such an one can richly enjoy the Psalms, and adopt many of the expressions therein. Indeed, it is only when one knows Ms true standing in a risen and glorified Christ, and also the true dispensational place of the Book of Psalms, that he can truly enjoy them. It is not to be supposed that a child of God in a low and a legal state, who goes to the Psalm in order to find in their language the true vehicle in which to convey his own feelings and experiences—can have proper enjoyment of them. Far from it. If you really want to understand and enjoy the Psalms, you must approach them in the full light of the New Testament—in the clear understanding that they belong to a state out of which you have been taken by the death and resurrection of Christ. Where do you get aught of life in a risen Christ in the Psalms? Nowhere.

But, in order to aid you a little in seizing the true idea of the dispensational place of this profound and wondrous Book, let us call your attention to the mode in which the Holy Ghost quotes from it in the New Testament. Take the following: " The face of the Lord is against them that do evil, to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth." (Psalm 34:16.) Now part of this verse contains a dispensational truth, and part of it contains an eternal truth, above and beyond all dispensations. It is always true that " The face of the Lord is against them that do evil;" but it is not always true that He is cutting off the remembrance of them from the earth. Accordingly, when the Spirit in the apostle Peter quotes this verse, He leaves out the last clause. (See 1 Pet. 3:12.) Why is this? Because God is now dealing in grace. He is reconciling sinners instead of cutting off. Take another instance, though we do not refer to it as a quotation. "Trust in the Lord and do good." Here is an eternal principle. But mark what follows. " So shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt he fed." Here you have a dispensational promise, applicable to an earthly people. The Christian is not promised any earthly blessings. Paul trusted in the Lord and did good; and in place of dwelling in the land, he was beheaded at Rome; and, even during his lifetime, he often suffered hunger and nakedness.

But enough. We must leave you to think and study for yourself. We merely add a word, at your request, as to the division of this most delightful Book. It is divided into five distinct books, as follows. Book 1., containing Psalm 1-41. Book 2., containing 42.—72. Book 3., containing Psalm 73-89. Book 4., containing Psalm 90-106. Book 5., containing Psalm 107-150. Into the distinct principle running through these divisions, we cannot now enter. We merely add that while we have, scattered up and down, throughout the whole volume of Psalms, some of the most blessed, beautiful, and fervent utterances of praise and thanksgiving to God—expressions of delight in Him and longing after Him—language, in short, which may be adopted by the saint of every age—still we must remember that the Psalm are not the expression of the Church's worship, though they may well be the subject of the Church's prayerful study and adoring contemplation. God forbid we should pen a single line that might even seem to anyone to be a depreciation of a book which has proved an ever gushing fountain of refreshment to the saints of God in all ages. All we desire is to set before you, dear friend, what we consider to be the true dispensational place of the Psalm

Many, we are aware, consider the Psalm to be the only vehicle of the Church's worship; and the reason they assign is that they are divinely inspired, whereas hymns are merely human compositions and even paraphrases more or less so. But this argument will not stand. If we can produce a single expression throughout the entire one hundred and fifty Psalm which a Christian could not intelligently and truthfully use, it entirely breaks down. Now we know that many of the Psalm contain utterances of the Spirit of Christ—utterances given forth when lie was making atonement for our sins, when He was enduring the wrath due to us, when He was forsaken of God, when He stood where we, thanks be to God, can never stand. Clearly, then, such utterances are not suited to us, and therefore the whole argument founded upon divine inspiration falls to the ground. We believe in the divine inspiration of every line of the Psalms; but that no more proves them the suited utterance of the Church of God now, than the divine inspiration of Exod. 20 proves that we are under the law. It is not that the Church cannot adopt some of the expressions in the Psalm Assuredly she can; but what we maintain is that, as a whole, they are not for the Church's worship; and, further, that it would be doing positive violence to dispensational integrity to confine the Church thereto. Only ask yourself this question, What must be the condition of a soul who, in the utterance of its worship, never once breathes the name of Jesus, never gives forth the cry of "Abba?" And yet neither of these precious words is to be found throughout the entire Book of Psalm

Many other reasons might be adduced in connection with this deeply interesting subject, but we forbear, and rest satisfied with commending what has been said to your prayerful consideration, and you, dear friend, to God's own teaching and blessing.

Affectionately yours, C. Η. M.

Reason and Revelation

Feeling, as we do, the deep solemnity of the present time, and the danger which besets the Christian's path, on every side, we press upon our readers the immense importance of the Word of God, and implicit subjection to its holy authority, in all things. We do not exactly feel called upon to take formal notice of such attacks as the " Essays and Reviews," or the more recent attempt to cast a slur upon the five books of Moses. The former has, in our judgment, been thoroughly exposed by more than one able hand; and we have no doubt but that the latter monstrous production will meet with similar handling. We look upon all such attacks as the direct and positive work of Satan, who is seeking, in every possible way, to shake the foundations of our most holy faith, and to pave the way for the march of infidelity and blasphemy, which, as we believe, will, ere long, darken the whole civilized world. It is surely most appalling to think that the professed pastors and teachers of Christianity should be the very men to rise up and lay impious hands upon the pillars upon which that Christianity reposes. May the Lord have mercy upon them, and open their eyes, that they may see their folly, guilt, and danger, and flee for refuge to that precious blood which cleanseth from all sin!

Still, though we do not deem it our place, as the conductors of this little serial, to review or expose infidel books, we cannot refrain from raising a warning cry against the influence of infidel principles. We sec, in all directions, an effort to humanize everything divine and sacred—to bring everything down to the level of man's blind and perverted reason—to exclude all that is mysterious—all that is heavenly and divine—to exalt reason and insult revelation—to shut out God. Yes, beloved reader, this is the enemy's grand effort—to shut out God, and upset God's Revelation. We look in one direction and we see professedly Christian teachers seeking to undermine Christianity. We turn our eyes to another quarter, and we behold a so-called Christian bishop sitting in judgment upon the Pentateuch, and audaciously denying its divine inspiration. We look again, and we see some, daring to approach the profound mystery of the cross, to speculate, as medical men, upon the causes of the death of Christ!

We confess we shudder at the contemplation, and ask, where are we? What will come next? Is God to be shut out, in everything? Must He not speak at all? Is He to be refused a hearing, if He utters a word which man's stupid reason cannot understand? Does faith come by reason, and reason by the word of man? It would seem so. The rare and exquisite touches of the pen of inspiration must be tried by the clumsy rules of arithmetic, or the far more clumsy rules of the infidel's moral sense; and the precious sacrifice of the Son of God must be treated more as a subject for a doctor's case-book than as a holy mystery revealed in the pages of the book of God.

May God preserve His saints in these awfully perilous times! May he fill our hearts with a very deep sense of the solemnity of the present moment, and lead us to keep close to Himself and to His word! Then shall we be safe from every hostile influence. Then shall we not regard the sneer of the skeptic or the arguments of the infidel. We shall know whence all such things come and whither they tend. Christ will be our enjoyed portion, His word and Spirit our guide, His coming the hope of our hearts.

Reconciled and Saved: Part 1

"For 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.

If ever there was a moment in the which it was important to set forth the great foundation truths of Christianity, it is just now. The enemy is seeking, by every means in His power, to loosen the foundations of our faith—to weaken the authority of holy scripture over the heart and conscience—to introduce, in the most specious and fascinating forms, deadly error, in order to draw away the soul from Christ and His word.

It may, perhaps, be said, " This is an old story." No doubt; it is as old as the second epistle to Timothy: second epistle of Peter, and Jude. But it is a new story also; and while we do not feel it to be our work, as the conductors of " Things New and Old," to grapple, in a controversial way, with popular errors and evils, we do believe it to be our sacred duty to set forth and maintain constantly those grand, solid, fundamental truths which are our only safeguard against every form of doctrinal error and moral pravity.

Hence it is that we feel called upon, at the opening of our Volume for 1870, to draw the attention of our readers to that very weighty passage which stands at the head of this paper. It is one of the fullest and most comprehensive statements of foundation doctrine to be found within the compass of the Volume of God. Let us meditate for a little upon it.

In examining the context in which this passage stands, we find four distinct terms by which the inspired writer sets forth the condition of man, in his unconverted state. He speaks of him as " without strength." This is what we may call a negative term. Man is utterly powerless, wholly incapable of doing aught toward his own deliverance. He had been tried in every possible way. God had tested him and proved him, and found him absolutely good for nothing. When placed in Eden, in the midst of the ten thousand delights which a beneficent Creator had poured around him, he believed the devil's lie rather than the truth of God. (Genesis hi.) When driven out of Eden, we see him pursuing a career of evil—" evil only"—evil continually—until the judgment of God falls upon the whole race, with one solitary exception—Noah and his family. (Gen. 6—viii.) Further, when in the restored earth man is entrusted with the sword of government, he gets drunk and exposes himself to contempt in the very presence of his sons. When entrusted with the holy office of the priesthood, he offers strange fire. (Lev. 5) When entrusted with the high office of king, and enriched with untold wealth, he marries strange wives and worships the idols of the heathen. 2 Chron. 11

Thus, wherever we trace man—the human race, we see nothing but the most humiliating failure. Man is proved to be good for nothing—" without strength."

But there is more than this. Man is " ungodly." He is not only powerless as to all that is holy and good, but also without one single moral or spiritual link with the living and true God. Examine the unrenewed heart, from its center to its circumference, and you will not find so much m one true thought about God, or one right affection toward God. There may be a great deal that is amiable and attractive in the way of nature—much that is morally lovely in the eyes of men—many social virtues, and excellent qualities. Human nature, even in its ruins, may exhibit much of all these; just as the visible creation—this earth on which we live—displays, spite of its ruined and groaning condition, many splendid traces of the master hand that formed it.

All this is perfectly true, and perfectly obvious; and moreover, it must ever be taken into account, in dealing with the great question of man's standing and condition. There is an ultra way of speaking of the sinner's state which is much more likely to stumble and perplex the mind than to convict the conscience or break the heart. This should be carefully avoided. We should ever take account of all that is really good in human nature. If we look at the case of the rich young ruler, in Mark 10, we must see that the Lord recognized something lovable in him, for we read that " Jesus beholding him, loved him," though we have no warrant whatever to suppose that there was aught of divine work in his soul, seeing that he turned his back upon Christ, and preferred the world to Him. But there was evidently something most attractive in this young man—something very different indeed from those gross, coarse, and degraded forms hi which human nature ofttimes clothes itself.

Now, we cannot but judge that the man who, in writing or discoursing upon the sinner's moral and spiritual state, would ignore or lose sight of those moral and social distinctions, docs positive damage to the cause of truth, and neutralizes the very object which we must believe he has in view. If, for example, we approach an amiable, upright, frank, and honorable person, and, in a sweeping manner, reduce him to a dead level, or place him in the same category with a crooked, cross-grained, scheming, dishonest, contemptible character, we only drive him away in irritation and disgust. Whereas, on the other hand, if we recognize whatever is really good; if we allow—as scripture most surely does—a sufficient margin in which to set down all that is morally and socially excellent even in fallen humanity, we are, to speak after the manner of men, much more likely to gain our end, than by injudiciously ignoring those distinctions, which, inasmuch as they clearly exist, it is the height of folly to deny. Still, it holds good—and let the reader solemnly consider the weighty fact—that man—the very best, the very fairest specimen—is "without strength," and " ungodly." Nor is this all. The apostle does not rest in mere negatives. He not only tells us what man is not, but he goes on to tell us what he is. He gives us both sides of this great question. He not only declares that, " When we were without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly" but he adds that, "God commend-eth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

Here, then, we have the positive activity of evil—the actual energy of self-will. For, be it remembered, sin is doing our own will, in whatever line that will may travel, whatever form it may assume. It may present itself to our view in the shape of the grossest moral pravity, or it may array itself in the garb of a cultivated and refined taste; but it is self-will all the while, and self-will is sin. It may be only like the acorn—the mere seed; but the acorn contains the wide spreading oak. Thus the heart of the newly born infant is a little seed-plot in which may be found the germ of every sin that ever was committed in this world. True, each seed may not germinate or bring forth fruit; but the seed is there, and only needs circumstances or influences to unfold it. If any one be kept from gross outward sins, it is not owing to a better nature, but simply to the fact of his surroundings. All men are sinners. All by nature do their own will. This stamps their character. "All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God." From the days of fallen Adam to this moment—well nigh six thousand years, there has been but one solitary exception to this solemn and terrible rule—only One who never sinned—never did His own will, and that is the blessed Lord Jesus Christ, who, though God over all blessed forever, yet, having become a man, He surrendered His own will completely, and did ever and only the things that pleased His Father. From the manger to the cross, He was ruled, in all things, by the will and the glory of God. He was the only perfect spotless man that ever trod this sin-stained earth—the only fair untainted sheaf that ever appeared in the field of this world—"the man Christ Jesus," who died for us "sinners"—" suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, to bring us to God."

What marvelous grace! what soul-subduing love! what amazing mercy! Oh! how it should melt these hearts of ours! Think, dear reader—think deeply of this love, this grace, this mercy. Dwell upon it until thy whole soul is absorbed in the contemplation of it. We are painfully insensible and indifferent. Indeed there is nothing more humbling than our culpable, our shameful indifference to a Savior's love. We seem content to take salvation as the result of His cross and passion—His agony and grief—His ineffable sorrow, while, at the same time, our hearts are cold and indifferent to Him. He left the bright heavens, and came down into this dark and sinful world for us. He went down into the gloomy depths of death and the grave. He endured the hiding of God's countenance, which involved more intense anguish to His precious soul than all that men and devils, earth and hell could do—He sank in deep waters, and went down into the horrible pit and into the miry clay—all this He did for us "sinners," when we were " ungodly," and " without strength;" and yet how little we think of it! How little we dwell upon it! How little we are moved by the record of it!

The remembrance of this should humble us in the dust, before our precious Savior-God. The hardness of our hearts in the presence of the profound mystery of the cross and passion of our Lord Christ is, if possible, a more signal and striking proof of our depravity than the sins for which He died.

But we have rather anticipated what may yet come before us in the further unfolding of our subject; and we shall close this paper with a brief reference to the fourth term by which the apostle sets forth our condition in nature. This is contained in the verse which forms our present thesis: " We were enemies." What a thought! We were not merely powerless, godless, sinful; but actually hostile—in a state of positive enmity against God.

Nothing can possibly exceed this. To be the enemy of God gives the most appalling idea we can possibly have of a sinner's state. And yet such is the actual condition of the unconverted reader of these lines. He is an enemy of God. He may be amiable, polite, attractive, refined, cultivated, educated, moral, and even outwardly religious. He may occupy the very highest platform of religious profession—be a church member—a regular communicant—a worker in the vineyard—a Sunday school teacher—a preacher—a minister, and all the while an enemy of God.

How awful the thought! Oh! beloved reader, do pause and consider, we beseech thee. Give this solemn question your undivided attention, just now. Do not put it aside. We appeal to thee, with all earnestness, as in the presence of Almighty God, of His Son Jesus Christ, and of the Eternal Spirit. We adjure thee, by the value of thy immortal soul, by the dread reality of the judgment seat of Christ, by all the horrors of that lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, by the worm that never dies, by the awful fact of eternity—an eternity in the gloomy shades of hell—by the unutterable agony of being separated forever from God, from Christ, and from all that is pure and lovely—by the combined force of all these arguments, we do earnestly and affectionately beseech thee to flee, this moment, to the Savior who stands with open arms and loving heart to receive thee. Come to Jesus! Come, now! Come, just as thou art! Only trust Him, and thou art safe—safe forever—safe as He.

(To be continued, if the Lord will.)

Reconciled and Saved: Part 2

We have, in a former volume of " Things New and Old," called the attention of our readers to the important distinction between atonement and reconciliation. They are often confounded through lack of attention to the precise terms of holy scripture. The fact is, they are perfectly distinct, though intimately connected—distinct, as the foundation is from the building—connected, as the building is with the foundation. Atonement is the base on which reconciliation rests. Without atonement, there could not possibly be any reconciliation; but reconciliation is not atonement. The reader will do well to weigh this matter thoroughly, in the light of inspiration. It is most needful for all Christians to be clear and sound in their thoughts on divine subjects, and accurate in their way of stating them. It will invariably be found that the more spiritual any one is, the closer he will keep to the veritable language of scripture in putting forth foundation truth. Unfortunately, our most excellent Authorized Version does not help the English reader on the score of accuracy in this matter, inasmuch as we find in Rom. 5:11 the word "atonement" where it ought to be "reconciliation;" and, on the other hand, we have, in Heb. 2 IT, the word "reconciliation" where it ought to be "atonement," or "propitiation." However, the two things are perfectly distinct, and it is of real moment that the distinction should be understood and maintained.

Furthermore, we would remind the reader, that there is no foundation whatsoever in the word of God, for the idea that God needed to be reconciled to us. There is positively no such thought to be found within the covers of the Bible. It was man that needed to be reconciled to God, not God to man. Man was the enemy of God. He was not only, as we have seen, " without strength," " ungodly," and " a sinner," but actually " an enemy."

Now it is the enemy—the alienated, the estranged one—that needs to be brought back—to be reconciled. This is plain. But God, blessed be His name! was not man's enemy, but his friend—the Friend of sinners. Such was the blessed Lord Jesus Christ, when on earth. " He went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil, for God was with him." (Acts 10) It was His delight to do good unto all. He spent His life in doing good to those who, after all, preferred a robber and a murderer to Him, and nailed Him to a cross between two thieves. Thus, whether we look at the life or at the death of Christ, we see, in the clearest and most forcible manner, the enmity of man; the friendship, the kindness, the love of God.

But how is man to be reconciled to God? Momentous question! Let us look well to the answer. The passage of scripture which forms the theme of this article declares, in the most distinct manner, that " We are reconciled to God by the death of his Son." (Rom. 5:10.) Nothing else could do it. The death of the cross—the atoning death—the vicarious sacrifice—the precious priceless blood of Jesus—is the necessary, the absolutely essential basis of our reconciliation to a sin-hating God. We must state this great truth in the most emphatic and unequivocal manner. Scripture is as clear and definite as possible. In order to our being reconciled to God, sin must be put away, and " without shedding of blood, there is no remission." Heb. 9:22.

Thus the matter stands, if we are to be taught simply by scripture. No blood-shedding, no remission—no remission, no reconciliation. Such is the divine order, and let men beware how they tamper with it. It is a very serious thing to touch the truth of God; we may rest assured that all who do so will meddle to their own hurt.

We are reconciled to God by the death of His Son. It is not by His incarnation—that is, His taking human nature upon Him. Incarnation could not reconcile us to God, inasmuch as it could not blot out our sins. Incarnation is not atonement. It is well to note this. There is a subtle way of playing upon the word atonement, which consists of a false division of the syllables—as though the word were " at-one-ment;" and this at-one-ment is referred to the incarnation, as though, in that mysterious act, our Lord took our fallen human nature into union with Himself. Against this we solemnly warn the reader. It is fatally false doctrine. It is an effort of the enemy to displace or set aside altogether the atoning death of Christ, with all those grand foundation truths which cluster round that most precious mystery.

Is it that we do not hold, as a cardinal truth, the incarnation of the eternal Son? Nay, it forms the foundation of that great mystery of godliness of which the top stone is a glorified Man on the throne of God. "And, without controversy, great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh, justified hi the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into glory." (1 Tim. iii. 16.) We hold incarnation to be an integral part of the faith of a true Christian, nor could we own as a Christian any one who denied it. But it is one thing to hold a truth, and another thing altogether to displace it. It is a constant effort of Satan, if he cannot get men to reject a truth, to displace it, and in this way he gains some of his greatest apparent triumphs. Thus it is with the essential doctrine of incarnation. Assuredly, the Son of God had to become a man to die; but, then, becoming a man is one thing, and dying upon the cross is another. He might have become a man; He might have lived and labored for three and thirty years on this earth; He might have been baptized in Jordan, and tempted in the wilderness; He might have ascended from the mount of transfiguration to that glory from which He had come, and winch He had with the Father from before all worlds. At any moment, during His blessed life, He might, so far as He was personally concerned, have returned to that heaven whence He had descended. What was there to hinder Him? There was no necessity laid on Him to die, save the necessity of infinite and everlasting love. Death had no claim on Him, inasmuch as He was the sinless, spotless, holy One of God. He had not come under the federal headship of the first man. Had He done so, He would have been under the curse and wrath of God all His days, and that not vicariously, but in virtue of His connection with the first Adam. This were an open and positive blasphemy against His Person. He was the Second Man the Lord from heaven, the only fair untainted grain of human wheat on which the eye of God could rest, and, as such, we repeat, He could, at any point between the manger and the cross, have returned to the bosom of the Father—that dwelling-place of ineffable love.

Let the reader seize, with clearness and power, this great truth. Let him dwell upon it. It is a truth of the very last possible importance. Jesus stood alone in this world. He was alone in the manger; alone in the Jordan; alone in the wilderness; alone on the mount; alone in the garden. All tins is in perfect keeping with his own memorable words in John 12: " Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." Here is the grand point—"If it die" Unless He was to return to glory alone, He must die. If He was to have us with Him, He must die. If sins were to be remitted, He must die. If sinners were to be saved, He must die. If a new and living way was to be opened for us into the presence of God, He must die. If the veil was to be rent, He must die. That mysterious curtain remained intact when the blessed One lay in the manger of Bethlehem—and when He was baptized—and when He was anointed—and when He was tempted—and when He was transfigured—and when He was bowed in Gethsemane, sweating great drops of blood—and when He was scourged before Pontius Pilate—through all these stages of His marvelous life, the veil was unrent. There and thus it stood to bar the sinner's approach to God. Man was shut out from God, and God shut in from man; nor could all the living labors of the eternal Son—His miracles—His precious ministry—His tears, His sighs, His groans, and His prayers—His sore temptations and His untold living sorrows—not any nor all of these could have rent the veil. But the very moment that death was accomplished—we read, " The veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom."

Such is the distinct teaching of scripture on this vital question. The death of Christ is the foundation of everything. Is it a question of life? He has given His flesh for the life of the world. Is it a question of pardon é "Without shedding of blood is no remission." Is it a question of peace? " He made peace by the blood of his cross." Is it a question of reconciliation? " We are reconciled to God by the death of his Son." In short, it is through death we get everything—without it, nothing. It is on the ground of death, even the atoning death of Christ, that we are reconciled to God, and united, by the Holy Ghost, to the risen and glorified Head in heaven. All rests on the solid groundwork of accomplished redemption. Sin is put away; the enmity is slain; all barriers are removed; God is glorified; the law magnified; and all this by the death of Christ. " He passed through death's dark raging flood" to settle everything for us, and lay the imperishable foundation of all, the counsels and purposes of the Holy Trinity.

And, now, a very few words as to the effect of the life of Christ in heaven for us. " If while 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." Be it carefully noted that this refers to His life after death—His life in resurrection—His life in heaven. Some would teach us that it is His life on earth—His fulfillment of the law in our room and stead. This is flatly contradicted by the very structure of the passage, and by the entire teaching of the New Testament. It is not life before death, but life after death that the apostle speaks of. In short, it is the priestly life of our blessed and adorable Lord, who ever liveth to make intercession for us. It is by this we are saved through all the difficulties and dangers, the snares and temptations of this wilderness world. We, though reconciled to God by the death of Christ, are, nevertheless, in ourselves, poor, feeble, helpless, erring creatures, prone to wander, ever liable to failure and sin, totally unable to get on for a single moment, if not kept by our great High Priest—our blessed Advocate—our Comforter. He keeps us day and night. He never slumbers nor sleeps. He maintains us continually before God in all the integrity of the position in which His death has placed us. It is impossible that our cause can ever fail in such hands. His intercession is all prevailing. " We have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous." The One who bore our sins in His own body on the tree, now bears our sorrows on His heart upon the throne; and He will come again to bear the government upon His shoulders.

What a Savior! What a Victim! What a Priest! How blessed to have all our affairs in His hand! To be sustained by such a ministry! How precious to know that the One who has reconciled us to God by His death is now alive for us on the throne; and because He lives we shall live also! All praise to His peerless name!

Relief for a Burdened Heart

(A. Reply to an Anxious Enquirer, " E. M.")

Dear Friend,

Your letter has interested us exceedingly. Few things, indeed, lie nearer to the heart than the case of anxious and burdened spirits. The work of emancipating; and soothing such is becoming, each day, more and more charming to us. Words could not convey how intensely we long to be used as God's instruments in this most delightful work. We arc fully persuaded that it is a work, which lies very near the heart of Christ. How could we question this, while hearkening to such words as these, " The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised." (Luke 4 IS.) And again " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." (Matt. 11:28.) How precious is the thought of God sending His Son, and anointing Him with the Holy Ghost, to preach glad tidings to the poor, to bring healing to the broken-hearted, sight to the blind, deliverance to the captive, liberty for the oppressed, rest for the weary! What unspeakable comfort for one who may find himself in any of these conditions!

Now, dear friend, it seems very plain that you are a weary, heavy-laden one, and as such, you arc the very object for the gracious ministry of the Lord Jesus Christ; you are one of those for whom He was sent, and for whom He was anointed by the Holy Ghost. We have not the slightest doubt but that the root of the matter is in you. The very anxieties to which you give expression are, in our judgment, the evidence of a spiritual work in your soul. Not that we want you to build your peace upon this. God forbid! If all the angels in heaven, and all the men upon earth were to give expression to their confidence in your Christianity, it might be a comfort and an encouragement to you, but could never form the ground of your peace, in the presence of a holy, sin-hating God. It matters little, comparatively, what men think about you, the question is, what does God think about you? He has found you out. He knows the worst about you; and yet He loves you, and gave His Son to die for you. Here is the only ground of a sinner's peace. God Himself has met your case. He has been glorified about your sins, in the death of His Son. It does not matter the least what you are. You say you are, sometimes, at a loss to know in what light to regard yourself, whether as wholly unconverted, or a backslider. The fact is, what you really want is to get to the end of yourself altogether; and when you get there, you will find God in all the fullness of His grace, as manifested in Christ; and surely to get to the end of oneself and find Christ, is the true way to find peace.

It seems to us that one special malady from which you are suffering, just now, is intense self-occupation. This is the case with thousands. It is quite true that the Spirit of God will exercise us about cur condition, and cause us to judge it. but then it is only for the purpose of leading us to the very bottom of it all, so that we may find settled repose in the fullness and sufficiency of Christ. This kind of exercise is very good. We delight in seeing a soul under deep spiritual work—the deeper the better. We are of opinion that, in spiritual husbandry, the deeper the furrow the stronger the root. We do not attach much value to a superficial work in the conscience; for although it is quite true that we are not saved by any special process or exercise whether of heart or conscience, still we have frequently found that persons who had glided rapidly into a certain feeling of peace, were in danger of gliding as rapidly out it, and becoming as miserable as they had once been happy. Sin must be seen in its sinfulness, and the sooner it is thus seen the better, so that having it really judged in the conscience, we may lay hold of a full and precious Christ, as God's answer to it all. "When this is the case, the heart enjoys a more solid, abiding peace, and is not subject to those variations of which so many complain.

But, on the other hand, there is a kind of self-occupation into which Satan leads the awakened sinner for the purpose of keeping him from Christ. This must be carefully guarded against. We apprehend he has entangled your feet in this snare. The style and tone of your letter quite lead us to this conclusion. We most fully enter into your case. Indeed you possess our entire sympathy. We deeply respect the feeling which leads you to absent yourself from the Lord's Table, in your present state of soul. We consider it vastly superior to the lightness, flippancy, and heartless formality with which so many approach that sacred institution. Far be it from us to pen a single line which would have the effect of emboldening you to approach the Lord's Supper in an unhappy and untruthful condition of heart and conscience. But then we want you so to apprehend the gospel of the grace of God—the fall forgiveness of your sins however magnified and multiplied- your complete justification, through the death and resurrection of Christ—we want you so to see the application of all this to your own soul, as that you may be able, like the poor man in the third of Acts, to rise up from your crippled condition, and enter into the temple, leaping and walking and praising God. Be assured of it, dearly beloved, this is your privilege. There is nothing to hinder your enjoyment thereof, this moment, save the unbelief and legality of your own spirit. The enemy would keep you occupied with yourself in order to keep you from Christ. Watch against this. It is the most hopeless, gloomy labor, to he seeking for aught in yourself. Look off unto Jesus. You will find all you want in Him. May the power of the Holy Ghost fill your whole soul with the fullness and preciousness of Christ, so that you may get into, and continue in, that holy and happy liberty which is the proper portion of every child of God.

You will further bear with us, dear Ε. M. when we tell you that we discern in your letter a great deal of the legal clement. This is an evil at once hateful to the Spirit of God and subversive of your own peace and comfort. You want to get into and breathe the genial atmosphere of free grace—that grace which reigns through righteousness unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord. You have very unworthy thoughts of God's perfect, eternal, and unchangeable love. You seem to measure God very much by the standard of your own thoughts. You are reasoning from what you are to God, instead of believing what God is to you. This is a serious mistake—the mistake of many, We are all, more or less, prone to this grievous error. Very few, comparatively, live in the actual enjoyment of salvation by grace. There is the continual weighing of sell in a legal balance. The principle of law is so deeply embedded in the heart, that nothing but the mighty power of the Spirit of God can deliver us from it, and lead us into the practical understanding of that brief, but most comprehensive statement of the apostle: " Ye are not under law; but under grace." Rom. 6

Now, we hold it to be utterly impossible for a soul to enjoy settled peace so long as it is, in any measure, under the influence of this law-principle. There may be occasional gleams of sunshine, such as you describe in your own experience; but there never can be abiding gospel-peace, so long as a single trace of the legal element is allowed to hold sway over the conscience. Abiding peace can only flow from a deep, thorough, practical sense of free grace; and that free grace acts towards the sinner on the settled ground of accomplished atonement. Legality, on the other hand, will ever be directing the eye inward upon self—yes, ever and only upon self. It will lead us to measure our standing before God by our own progress in personal holiness, our efforts, our services, our doings, our ways, our feelings, our frames, our something or other. All this produces spiritual darkness, gloomy uncertainty, mental bondage, intense soul-torture, depression, irritability, sourness of torn-per. And these things again re-act most prejudicially, upon our whole moral being. They fling back their demoralizing influence upon the life and character. The harp is hung upon the willow. The hymn of joyous praise can only, as you say, be occasionally sung. The Eucharistic feast—that most precious memorial of accomplished redemption—is abandoned, or if not abandoned, is gone through—we dare not say celebrated—without freshness, unction, power, elevation, or depth of spiritual tone. In this way, Christ is dishonored, the Holy Ghost is grieved, the testimony is marred, and the standard of practical Christianity greatly lowered. Moreover, the enemy, finding us in this condition of soul, cuts out ample work for us, by acting, in various ways, upon our lusts and passions, which only gather strength from the very fact of our being under law; for as the apostle says, " The strength of sin is the law." Thus the soul's history is summed up in two words, namely " Lust and law," or " Law and lust," and one is tossed like a ball from one to the other, until free grace comes in and gives full deliverance from both. Grace gives you power over sin; whereas law gives sin power over you. Grace keeps you in the place of continual victory; law keeps you in the place of continual defeat.

May the Lord lead you and all His people into a clearer apprehension of grace, that so your peace may flow as a river, and the fruits of righteousness abound to the praise of His name!

But we are not yet done with your letter, dear friend. We think we discern another feature in your case which tends to produce the spiritual depression of which you complain. If we mistake not, you are afflicted with a morbid or scrupulous conscience. This is a sore evil—a heavy burden—a very great trial. We deeply feel for any soul laboring under this grievous malady, for it not only affects oneself, but all with whom one comes in contact. There is a very wide difference indeed between a scrupulous conscience and a tender conscience. The former is governed by its own fears; the latter, by the word of God. That super induces feebleness and uncertainty in all one's ways; this a holy stability and consistency. We can hardly conceive a more troublesome companion than a morbid or scrupulous conscience. It is always creating difficulties for its possessor, and placing stumbling-blocks in his way. A tender conscience, on the contrary, is invaluable. It resents only what ought to be resented. Its action is true and healthy. It does not morbidly seek out cause of trouble and defilement; but, being duly acted upon by the word of God, as applied by the Holy Ghost, it yields a true Response, and thus discharges, with vigor, its divinely appointed functions.

Think, then, beloved, of all these things, and seek to watch against them, pray against them, and above all, believe against them. Get done with self occupation, rise above your legal fears, and cast away from you the workings of a morbid conscience. Be assured of it these are three features in your case; and they are the features of many a case—a self-occupied heart, a legal mind, a morbid conscience. Terrible evils! May the power of the Holy Ghost give you full deliverance from these three efficient agents of the devil! May He break every chain and give you to taste the true sweetness of spiritual liberty and communion of heart with a reconciled God and Father.

Do not, any longer, harass yourself with the questions, "Am I a converted person? or am I a backslider? am I this? or am I that? " You are, in yourself, a poor lost, unworthy, good-for-nothing creature; and yet God commendeth His love toward you in that He gave His only begotten Son to bear your curse and burden on the tree. Cast yourself on His boundless love, "a sea where none can sink." See that all is done. The debt is paid. Satan is silenced. The law is magnified. Sin is put away. God is satisfied, yea, glorified. What more would you have? For what are you waiting? You may, perhaps, say to us " I know all this." You do say in your letter that you " can hardly expect to hear anything more than you have already read." Well, we want you to make your own of all this by simple, childlike faith. We want to drive you from behind every bush, and out of every legal lurking place, into the full blaze of divine and everlasting love. Cast away from you, we beseech you, dear friend, all your legal reason-lags, and seek to exercise a believing mind that just takes God at His word, and takes possession, without a question, of all that He gives. We do not want to heal your wound slightly; to cry " peace, peace, when there is no peace." This would he cruelty rather than kindness. But we desire that you should " know the things which are freely given to you of God," and which are as clearly revealed in the word, as they are freely given through grace. We long to see you as happy as the gospel of the grace of God is fitted to make you. Then you will he able to sing hymns of praise, and take your seat at the table of the Lord in happy, holy, elevated communion and worship.

May the good Lord meet you in your present need! May He disperse, by the bright and blessed beams of His love, the dark cloud that has settled down upon your spirit, and fill you with all joy and peace in believing. To Him we do most affectionately commend you, praying Him to make use of what we have written, in blessing to your precious soul, and His name shall have all the praise throughout the everlasting ages.

Responsibility and Power

The question of man's responsibility seems to perplex many minds. They find it difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile it with the fact of his total want of power. If, it is argued, man is perfectly powerless, how can he be responsible? If he cannot of himself repent or believe the gospel, how can he be responsible? And then, again, if he is not responsible to believe the gospel, on what ground can he be judged for rejecting it?

Thus the mind reasons and argues; and, alas! theology does not help it to a solution of the difficulty, but, on the contrary, increases the mist and confusion. For, on the one hand, a certain school of divinity teaches, and rightly so, man's utter powerlessness—that he will not, and cannot, come if left to himself—that it is only by the mighty power of the Holy Spirit that any one ever does come—that, were it not for free, sovereign grace, not a single soul would ever be saved—that, if left to ourselves, we should only go wrong, and never do right.

From all this it infers that man is not responsible. Its teaching is right, but its inference is wrong. Another school of divinity teaches—and rightly so—that man is responsible—that he will be punished with everlasting destruction for rejecting the gospel—that God commands all men everywhere to repent—that He beseeches sinners, all men, the world, to be reconciled to Him—that He will have all men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of the truth.

From all this it infers that man has power to repent and believe. Its teaching is right; its inference, wrong. Hence it follows that neither human reasonings, nor the teachings of mere theology—high or low—can ever settle the question of responsibility and power. The word of God alone can do this, and it does it in a very simple and conclusive manner. It teaches, proves, and illustrates, from the opening of Genesis to the close of Revelation, man's utter powerlessness for good, his ceaseless proneness to evil. It declares, in Gen. 6, that every imagination of the thoughts of man's heart is only and continually evil. It declares, in Jer. 17, that the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. It teaches us, in Rom. 3, that there is none righteous, no, not one; there is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no, not one.

Further, not only does scripture teach the doctrine of man's utter and hopeless ruin, his incorrigible evil, his perfect powerlessness as to good, and his invariable proneness to evil; but it furnishes us with an array of evidence, perfectly unanswerable, in the shape of facts and illustrations drawn from man's actual history, to prove the doctrine. It shows us man in the garden, believing the devil, disobeying God, and driven out. It [shows him, when thus driven out, going on in wickedness until God had to send the deluge. Then, in the restored earth, man gets drunk and degrades himself. Man is tried without law, and proves himself a lawless rebel. He is tried under law, he becomes a willful transgressor. Prophets are sent, he stones them; the Baptist is sent, he beheads him; the Son is sent, he crucifies Him; the Holy Ghost is sent, he resists Him.

Thus, in every volume, as it were, of man's history—the history of the human race—in every section, every page, every paragraph, every line, we read his total ruin, his utter alienation from God. We are taught in the most distinct manner possible, that, if left to himself, he never could, and never would—though most surely he should—turn to God, and do works meet for repentance. And, in perfect keeping with all this, we learn from our Lord's parable of the great supper, in Luke 14 that not so much as a single merely invited guest will be found at the table. All who sit down there are "brought," or "compelled" Not one ever would come, if left to himself. Grace, free grace, must force them in; and so it does, blessed forever be the God of all grace!

But, on the other hand, side by side with all this; and taught with equal force and clearness, stands the solemn and weighty truth of man's responsibility. In creation, under the law, and in the gospel, man is addressed as a responsible being, for such he undoubtedly is. And further, his responsibility is, in every case, measured by his advantages. Thus, in the opening of the Epistle to the Romans, the Gentile is viewed as without law, but responsible to listen to the testimony of creation, which he has not done. The Jew is viewed as under law, and responsible to keep it, which he has not done. Then, in chapter 6, Christendom is viewed, as responsible to continue in the goodness of God, which it has not done. And in 2 Thess. 1 we read that those who obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ shall be punished with everlasting destruction. And, finally, in Heb. 2, the apostle urges home this most solemn question, " How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?"

Now, the Gentile will not be judged on the same ground as the Jew; nor the Jew on the same ground as the nominal Christian. Each will be dealt with on his own distinct ground, and according to his light and privilege. There will be the few stripes and the many stripes, as in Luke 12 It will be " more tolerable" for some than for others, as in Matt. 11 The Judge of all the earth will do right; but man is responsible, and his responsibility is measured by the light and advantage afforded him. All are not huddled together promiscuously, as though they were all on one common ground. On the contrary, there is the nicest discrimination, and no one will ever be condemned for slighting and refusing advantages which were not within his reach. But surely, the very fact that there will be a judgment at all, proves, even were there no other proof, that man is responsible.

And by whom, let us ask, is the very highest type of responsibility incurred? By the rejecter or the neglecter of the gospel of the grace of God. The gospel brings out all the fullness of the grace of God. All His resources are there displayed. The love of God; the precious work and glorious Person of the Son; the testimony of the Holy Ghost. Moreover, God is seen in the gospel, in the marvelous ministry of reconciliation, actually beseeching sinners to be reconciled to Him. Nothing can exceed this. It is the very highest and fullest display of the grace, mercy, and love of God; and therefore all who reject or neglect it incur the most solemn responsibility, and bring down upon themselves the very heaviest judgment of God. Those who refuse the testimony of creation are guilty. Those who break the law are guiltier still; but those who refuse God's proffered grace are the guiltiest of all.

Will any still object, and say they cannot reconcile the two things, man's powerlessness and man's responsibility? Let them bear in mind that it is none of our business to reconcile them. God has done that for us by placing them side by side, in His own eternal word. It is ours to submit and believe, not to reason. If we listen to the conclusions and deductions of our own minds, or to the dogmas of conflicting schools of divinity, we shall be ever in a muddle and a jumble, perplexed and confused. But if we simply bow to scripture we shall know the truth. Men may reason and rebel; but the question is whether is man to judge God, or God to judge man? Is God sovereign, or is He not? If man is to sit in judgment on God, then God is no longer God. " Ο man, who art thou that repliest against God?"

This is the great question. Can we answer it? The plain fact is, this difficulty as to the question of power and responsibility is all a complete mistake, arising from ignorance of our own true condition, and our want of absolute submission to God. Every soul in a right moral condition will freely own his responsibility, his guilt, his utter powerlessness, his exposure to the just judgment of God, and that were it not for the sovereign grace of God in Christ, he should inevitably be damned. Any one who does not own this, from the very depths of his soul, is ignorant of himself, and virtually sitting in judgment upon God. Thus it stands, if we are to be taught by scripture.

Take a case. A certain man owes me a hundred pounds; but he is unprincipled and extravagant, and he has rendered himself quite unable to pay me. And not only is he unable, but unwilling. He has no desire to pay, no desire to have anything to do with me. If he sees me coming along the street, he skulks away down the first opening, to avoid me. Is he responsible? And am I justified in taking legal proceedings against him? Does his total inability to pay do away with his responsibility?

Further, I send my servant to him with a kind message; he insults him. I send another; he knocks him down. I send my son to beg of him to come to me, and to own himself my debtor, to confess, and take his proper place, and that I will not only forgive him his debt, but take him into partnership with myself. He insults my son in every possible way, heaps all sorts of indignity upon him, and, finally, murders him.

All this is but a very feeble illustration of the actual condition of things between God and the sinner; and yet some will reason and argue about the injustice of holding man responsible. It is all a fatal mistake, and such it will yet be found to be, in every case. There is not a soul in hell that has any difficulty in the matter. And, most surely, there is no difficulty felt by any in heaven. All who find themselves in hell will own that they receive the due reward of their deeds; and all who find themselves in heaven will own themselves " debtors to mercy alone." The former will have to thank themselves; the latter will have to thank God. Such we conceive to be the only true solution of the question of " responsibility and power."

Restoration

(John 21:1-19.)

A careful study of these verses will enable us to trace, in them, three distinct kinds of restoration, namely, restoration of conscience, restoration of heart, and restoration of position.

I. The first of these, restoration of conscience, is of all-importance. It would be utterly impossible to over estimate the value of a sound, clear, uncondeming conscience. A Christian cannot get on if there is a single soil on his conscience. He must walk before God with a pure conscience—a conscience without stain or sting. Precious treasure! May my reader ever possess it.

It is very obvious that Peter possessed it in the touching scene, " at the sea of Tiberias." And yet he had fallen—shamefully, grievously fallen. He had denied his Lord with an oath; but he was restored. One look from Jesus had broken up the deep fountains of his heart, and drawn forth floods of bitter tears. And yet it was not his tears, but the love that drew them forth, which formed the ground of his thorough restoration of conscience. It was the changeless and everlasting love of the heart of Jesus—the divine efficacy of the blood of Jesus—and the all-prevailing power of the advocacy of Jesus that imparted to Peter's conscience the boldness and liberty so strikingly and beautifully exhibited on the memorable occasion before us.

The risen Savior is seen, in these closing chapters of John's Gospel, watching over His poor, foolish, feeble, erring disciples—hovering about their path—presenting Himself, in various ways, before them—taking occasion, from their very necessities, to make Himself known, in perfect grace, to their hearts. Was there a tear to be dried, a difficulty to be solved, a fear to be hushed, a bereaved heart to be soothed, an unbelieving mind to be corrected? Jesus was present, in all the fullness and variety of His grace, to meet all these things. So also when, under the guidance of the ever forward Peter, they had gone forth to spend a night in fruitless toil, Jesus had His eye upon them. He knew all about the darkness, and the toil, and the empty net, and there He was on the shore, to kindle a fire and prepare a dinner for them. Yes, the selfsame Jesus who had died on the cross to put away their sins, now stood on the shore to restore them from their wanderings, gather them round Himself, and minister to all their need. "Have ye any meat?" developed the fruitlessness of their night's toil. " Come and dine," was the touching expression of the tender, thoughtful, all-providing love of the risen Savior.

But let us note, particularly, the evidences of a thoroughly restored conscience, as exhibited by Simon Peter. "Therefore that disciple whom Jesus loved, saith unto Peter, It is the Lord. Now when Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he girt his fisher's coat unto him, (for he was naked,) and did cast himself into the sea." He could not wait for the ships, or for his fellow-disciples, so eager was he to get to the feet of his risen Lord. In place of saying to John or to the others, " You know how shamefully I have fallen, and although I have, since then, seen the Lord, and heard Him speak peace to my soul, yet I think it more becoming in one that has so fallen to keep back, do you therefore go first and meet the blessed One, and I shall follow after," in place of aught in this style, he flings himself boldly into the sea, as much as to say, " I must be the very first to get to my risen Savior; none has such a claim on Him as poor, stumbling, failing Peter."

Now, here was a perfectly restored conscience—a conscience without a single spot—a conscience basking in the sunlight of unchanging love. Peter's confidence in Christ was unclouded, and this, we may boldly affirm, was grateful to the heart of Jesus. Love likes to be trusted. Let us ever remember this. No one need imagine that he is honoring Jesus by standing afar off on the plea of un-worthiness; and yet it is very hard for one who has fallen or backslidden, to recover his confidence in the love of Christ. Such an one can see clearly that a sinner is welcome to Jesus, no matter how great or manifold his sins may have been; but then he thinks the ease of a backsliding or stumbling Christian is entirely different. Should these lines be scanned by one who has backslidden or fallen, we would press upon him, most earnestly, the importance of immediate return to Jesus. " Return, ye backsliding children, and I will heal your backslidings." What is the response to this pathetic appeal? " Behold, we come unto thee; for thou art the Lord our God." " If thou wilt return, Ο Israel, saith the Lord, return unto me." (Jer. 3:22; 4:1.) The love of the heart of Jesus knows no change. We change; but He is " the same yesterday, to-day, and forever;" and He delights to be trusted. The confidence of Peter's heart was a rich feast to the heart of Christ. No doubt, it is sad to fall, to err, to backslide; but it is sadder still, when we have done so, to distrust the love of Jesus, or His gracious readiness to take us to His bosom again.

Beloved reader, have you fallen? Have you erred? Have you backslidden? Have you lost the sweet sense of divine favor, the happy consciousness of acceptance with God? If so, what are you to do? Simply this, " Return." This is God's own special word to the backslider. Return, in self-judgment, and in the fullest confidence in the boundless, changeless love of the heart of Christ. 1)0 not, we beseech you, keep away in the distance of your own unbelief. Do not measure the heart of Jesus by your own thoughts. Let Him tell you what is in His heart toward you. You have sinned, you have failed, you have turned aside, and now, it may be, you are afraid or ashamed to turn your eyes toward the One whom you have grieved and dishonored. Satan, too, is suggesting the darkest thoughts, for he would fain keep you at a chilling distance from that precious Savior who loves you with an everlasting love. But you have only to fix your gaze upon the blood, the advocacy, the heart of Jesus, to get a triumphant answer to all the enemy's terrible suggestions, and to all the infidel reasonings of your own heart. Ό0 not, therefore, go on another hour without seeking to get a thorough settlement of the question between your soul and Christ. Remember, " His is an unchanging love, free and faithful, strong as death." Remember also His own words, " Return, ye backsliding children"—"Return to me." And, finally, remember that Jesus loves to be trusted.

II. But the heart has to be restored as well as the conscience. Let this not be forgotten. It often happens in the history of souls, that though the conscience may be perfectly clear as to certain acts which we have done, yet the roots from whence those acts have sprung have not been reached. The acts appear on the surface of daily life, but the roots are hidden down deep in the heart, unknown, it may be, to ourselves and others, but thoroughly exposed to the eye of Him with whom we have to do.

Now, these roots must be reached, exposed, and judged, ere the heart is in a right condition in the sight of God. Look at Abraham. He started on his course with a certain root in his heart, a root of unbelieving reserve, in reference to Sarah. This thing led him astray when he went down into Egypt, and although his conscience was restored, and he got back to his altar at Bethel, yet the heart was not reached for years afterward, in the affair of Abimelech, king of Gerar.

Ail this is deeply practical and most solemn. It finds its illustration in Peter as well as in Abraham. But only mark the exquisitely delicate way in which our blessed Lord proceeds to reach the roots in the heart of His dear and honored servant. " So when they had dined." Not till then. There was no allusion to the past, nothing that might cause a chill to the heart, or bring a cloud over the spirit while a restored conscience was feasting in company with a love that knows no change. This is a fine moral trait. It characterizes the dealings of God with all His. saints. The conscience is set at rest in the presence of infinite and everlasting love, ere there is the most distant allusion to the roots of things in the heart. When Simon Peter, in the full confidence of a restored conscience, flung himself at the feet of his risen Lord, he was called to listen to that gracious invitation, "Coma and dine." But, " when they had dined," Jesus, as it were, takes Peter apart in order to let in upon his soul the light of truth, so that by it he might discern the root from whence all his failure had sprung. That root was self-confidence, which had led him to place himself in advance of his fellow-disciples, and say, " Though all should deny thee, yet will not I."

This root had to be exposed, and, therefore, " When they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these?" This was a pointed and pungent question, and it went right to the very bottom of Peter's heart. Three times Peter had denied his Lord, and three times his Lord now challenges the heart of Peter—for the roots must be reached if any permanent good is to be done. It will not do merely to have the conscience purged from the effects which have been produced in practical life, there must also be the moral judgment of that which produced them. This is not sufficiently understood and attended to, and hence it is that again and again the roots spring up and bring forth fruit, and scatter their seed a thousand-fold around us, thus cutting out for us the most bitter and sorrowful work, which might all be avoided if the roots of things were thoroughly judged and kept under.

Christian reader, our object in this paper is entirely practical. Let us, therefore, exhort one another to judge our roots, whatever they may be. Do we know our roots? Doubtless, it is hard, very hard, to know them. They are deep and manifold; pride, personal vanity, covetousness, irritability, ambition—these are some of the roots of character, the motive springs of action, over which a rigid censorship must ever be exercised. We must let nature know that the eye of self-judgment is continually upon it. We have to carry on the struggle without cessation. We may have to lament over occasional failure; but we must maintain the struggle, for struggle bespeaks life. May God the Holy Ghost strengthen us for the ceaseless conflict.

III. We shall close this paper with a brief reference to restoration as bearing upon the soul's position or path. The conscience being thoroughly purged, and the heart, with its varied roots, judged, there is moral preparedness for our proper path. The perfect love of Jesus had expelled all fear from Peter's conscience; and His threefold question had opened up the roots in Peter's heart, and now He says to him, " Verily, verily, I say unto thee, when thou wast, young, thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hand, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not. This spake he, signifying by what death he should glorify God. And when he had spoken this, he saith unto him, follow me."

Here, then, we have, in two words, the path of the servant of Christ. " Follow me" The Lord had just given Peter the sweetest pledges of His love and confidence. He had, notwithstanding all past failure, entrusted him with the care of all that was dear to His loving heart in this world, even the Iambs and sheep of His flock. He had said to him, " If you have affection for me, feed my lambs, shepherd my sheep," and now, in one brief but comprehensive utterance, He opens before him his proper path. " Follow me." This is enough. It includes all beside. If we want to follow Jesus, we must keep the eye continually upon Him; we must mark His footprints and tread therein. Yes, mark them and walk in them; and when tempted, like Peter, to " turn about" in order to see what this one or that one has to do, or how he does it, we may hear the correcting words, "What is that to thee? Follow thou me." This is to be our one grand and all-absorbing business, come what may. A thousand things may arise to distract and hinder. The devil will tempt us to look hither and thither, to look at this one and that one; to imagine we could do better here than there, or there than here; to be occupied with, and imitating the work of some fellow-servant. All this is met by those pointed words, " Follow me."

There is immense danger, in the present day, of following in the wake of others, of doing certain things because others do them, or doing things as others do them. All this has to be carefully guarded. It will be sure to come to nothing. What we really want is a broken will—the true spirit of a servant that waits on the Master to know His mind. Service does not consist in doing this or that, or running hither and thither; it is simply doing the Master's will, whatever that maybe. " They serve who stand and wait." It is easier to be busy than to be quiet. When Peter was "young" he went whither he would; but when he got " old" he went whither he would not. What a contrast between the young, restless, ardent, energetic Peter, going whither he would, and the old, matured, subdued, experienced Peter going whither he would not! What a mercy to have the will broken! To be able to say from the heart, " What thou wilt—as thou wilt—where thou wilt—when thou wilt." " Not my will, but thine, Ο Lord, be done."

" Follow me." Precious words! May they be engraved on our hearts, beloved reader! Then shall we be steady on our course, and effective in our service. We shall not be distracted or unhinged by the thoughts and opinions of men. It may happen that we shall get very few to understand us or sympathize with us—few to approve or appreciate our work. It matters not. The Master knows all about it. Let us only be sure of what He has told us to do, and do it. If a master tells one of his servants, distinctly, to go and do a certain thing, or occupy a certain post, it is his business to go and do that thing, or occupy that post, no matter what his fellow-servants may think. They may tell him that he ought to be somewhere else, or to do something else; a proper servant will heed them not; he knows his master's mind, and has to do his master's work.

Would it were more thus with all the Lord's servants! Would that we all knew more distinctly and carried out more decidedly, the Master's will respecting us. Peter had his path and John had his. James had his work, and Paul had his. So it was of old, the Gershonite had his work, and the Merarite had his; and if one had interfered with the other, the work could not have been done. The Tabernacle was carried forward or set up by each man doing his own proper work. Thus it is in this our day. God has varied workmen in His house and in His vineyard; He has quarrymen, stone-squarers, masons, and decorators. Are all quarrymen? Surely not; but each has his work to do, and the building is carried forward by each one doing his own appointed work. Should a quarry-man despise a decorator, or a decorator look down with contempt upon a quarryman? Assuredly not. The Master wants them both, and whenever the one would interfere with the other, as, alas! we so often do, the faithful correcting word falls cu the ear, " What is that to thee? Follow thou me."

Resurrection

A Correspondent requests a special notice of Phil. 3:11. " If by any means I might attain unto the resurrection from among the dead." The point toward which the desires of the true Christian ever tend is resurrection-glory. It matters not to him by what way he is to reach that point. He longs to reach the glory, " by any means."

It may be that our friend finds difficulty in the word "if," as though it implied a doubt in the mind of the apostle as to his reaching the end in safety. We do not believe he had any such thought in his mind. The idea is simply this—he had the goal before him, and he was eagerly pressing toward it. His vision was filled with it, his heart was set on it, and as to the " means" by which he was to reach it he was quite indifferent.

It may be interesting to observe that the word which is rendered " resurrection," only occurs, so far as we are aware, in this one passage, and properly signifies "resurrection from among." The word αναστασις (anastasis, resurrection) occurs about forty-two times in the New Testament, and is applied to the broad fact of resurrection. But the word used in the eleventh verse is morally linked with the expression in Mark 9:10, " Questioning one with another what rising from among the dead (εκ νεκρών) should mean." The disciples would have found no difficulty in the thought of resurrection as such, seeing that every orthodox Jew believed in it. But a "rising from anions the dead" was something strange to them. Hence their " questioning."

Now, the proper hope of the Christian is not merely "resurrection of the dead," but "resurrection from among the dead." This makes a very material difference. It completely sets aside the idea of a general simultaneous resurrection. To speak of a resurrection from among the dead, obviously implies that all shall not rise together. Rev. 20:5. teaches us that there will be a thousand years between the two resurrections; but it is of importance to see that the very word used by the apostle to express that resurrection for which 110 was looking, is quite different from that usually employed to set forth the general thought of resurrection. Why is this? Simply because he meant a special thing and he therefore used a special word—a word which, as we have said, occurs only in this one place.

It is deeply solemn to remember that the Lord's people will rise from their graves and leave behind them the ashes of the wicked dead to molder for a thousand years longer. This thought may seem to be foolishness to the natural man, but scripture teaches it, and that is quite enough for the Christian. The resurrection of the Church will be upon the same principle, and partake of the same character, as the resurrection of Christ; it will be " a resurrection from among the dead." May our hearts be set upon that glorious goal!

Rivers of Living Water

" In the last clay, 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 feast referred to in this lovely scripture was " The feast of tabernacles,' called, at the opening of the chapter, " The Jews' feast." This stamped its-character. It could no longer be called, as in Lev. 23 " A feast of Jehovah." The Lord could not own it. It had become an empty formality—a powerless ordinance—a piece of barren routine—something in which man could boast himself while God was entirely shut out.

This is nothing uncommon. There has ever been a strong tendency in the human mind to perpetuate forms when the power is gone. No doubt power may clothe itself in a certain form; and, so long as the form is the expression of the power, it is all right and good. But the danger lies in going on with the mere outward form without a single particle of inward power. Thus it was with Israel of old; and thus it is with the professing church now. We have all to watch against this^ snare of the devil. He will use a positive ordinance of God as a means of deceiving the soul, and shutting out God altogether. But where faith is in lively exercise, the soul has to do with God in the ordinance, whatever it is, and thus the power and freshness are duly maintained.

The reader has, no doubt, noticed that in the opening chapters of John's Gospel, the inspired writer invariably designates the feasts as feasts of the Jews; and not only so, but we find the Lord Jesus displacing one after another of these feasts and offering Himself as an object for the heart. Thus at the opening of chapter vii. we read, " After these things Jesus walked in Galilee; for he would not walk in Jewry, because the Jews sought to kill him. Now the Jews' feast of tabernacles was at hand." Terrible anomaly! deadly delusion! Seeking to murder the Son of God, and yet keeping the feast of tabernacles! Such is religious man without God. " His brethren therefore said unto him, Depart hence, and go into Judea, that thy disciples also may see thy ivories that thou doest. For there is no man that doeth anything in secret, and he himself seeketh to be known openly. If thou do these things, show thyself to the world. For neither did his brethren believe on him."

Near as His brethren were to Him, according to the flesh, they knew Him not, they believed not on Him. They had not one thought in common with Him. They would fain have Him make a display of Himself before the world. They knew not His object. He had not come from heaven in order to be gazed at and wondered after. "All the world will wonder after the beast" by-an-by; but the blessed Son of God came to serve and to give. He came to hide Himself, to glorify God, and to serve man.

He refused, therefore, to exhibit Himself at the feast. " Then Jesus said unto them, my time is not yet come; but your time is always ready. The world cannot hate you; but me it hateth, because I testify of it that the works thereof are evil. Go ye up unto this feast: I go not up yet to this feast: for my time is not yet full come. When he had said these words unto them, he abode still in Galilee. But when his brethren were gone up, then went he also up unto the feast, not openly, but as it were in secret."

And for what did He go up? He went up to serve. He went up to glorify His Father, and to be the willing Servant of man's necessity. " Now about the midst of the feast, Jesus went up into the temple and taught. And the Jews marveled, saying, How knoweth this man letters, having never learned? Jesus answered them, saying, My doctrine is not mine, but his that sent me" Here His moral glory, as the self-hiding Servant, shines out. " My doctrine is not mine." Such was His answer to those who wondered where He got His learning. Alas! they knew Him not. His motives and His objects lay far beyond the reach of carnal and worldly-minded men. They measured Him by their own standard, and hence, all their conclusions were utterly false. " If any man will do his will he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself [απ εμαυτον]. He that speaketh of himself seeketh his own glory; but he that seeketh his glory that sent him, the same is true and no unrighteousness is in him."

The blessed One did not speak from Himself, as if He were independent of the Father, but as One who lived in absolute and complete dependence, and in unbroken communion, drawing all His springs from the living God, doing nothing, saying nothing, thinking nothing apart from the Father.

We have the same truth with reference to the Holy Ghost, in John 16 " Howbeit, when he the Spirit of truth is come, he will guide you into all truth; for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak; and he will show you things to come." The Holy Ghost did not speak from Himself, as independent of the Father and the Son, but as One in full communion with them.

But we must turn, for a moment, to the words which form the special subject of this paper. "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.י' Here we have set before us a truth of infinite preciousness and immense practical power. The Person of Christ is the divine spring of all freshness and spiritual energy. It is in Him alone the soul can find all it really needs. It is to Him we must betake ourselves for all our personal refreshment and blessing. If, at any time, we find ourselves dull, heavy and barren, what are we to do? Make efforts to raise the tone? Nay, this will never do. What then? Let him " Come unto me and drink"

Mark the words. It is not, " Come unto me and draw." We may draw for others and be dry ourselves; but if we drink, our own souls are refreshed, and then—" Rivers of living water."

Nothing is more miserable than the restless efforts of a soul out of communion. We may be very busy; our hands may be full of work; our feet may run hither and thither; the head may be full of knowledge; but if the heart be not livingly occupied with the Person of Christ, it will, it must be, all barrenness and desolation so far as we are personally concerned; and there will, there can be, no "rivers of living water" flowing out for others. Impossible. If we are to be made a blessing to others, we must feed upon Christ for ourselves. We do not" drink" for other people, we drink to satisfy our thirst; and as we drink, the rivers flow. Show us a man whose heart is filled with Christ, and we will show you a man whose hands are ready for work, and his feet ready to run; but unless we begin with heart communion, our running and our doing will be a miserable failure—there will be no glory to God—no rivers of living water.

Yes, reader, we must begin in the very innermost circle of our own moral being, and there be occupied, by faith, with a living Christ, else all our service will prove utterly worthless. If we want to act on others; if we would be made a blessing in our day and generation; if we desire to bring forth any fruit to God; if we would shine as lights amid the moral gloom around; if we would be a channel of blessing' in the midst of a sterile desert, then, verily, we must hearken to our Lord's words in John 7:37. We must drink at the fountain head. And what then? Drink still—drink ever—drink largely, and then the rivers must flow. If I say, "I must try and be a channel of blessing to others" I shall only prove my own folly and weakness. But if I bring my empty vessel to the fountain head and get it filled, then, without the smallest effort, the rivers will flow.

Self-Denial

"If only we exercise a little self-denial every day, we shall get on to heaven very comfortably." What a volume of wholesome practical truth in this brief utterance! The path of self-denial is the Christian's true path. "If any man," says Christ, "will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." (Luke 9:23.) Mark, it is not, " let him deny certain things belonging to himself." No, he must " deny himself;" and this is a " daily é' thing. Each morning, as we rise and enter afresh upon the pathway of daily life, we have the same grand and all-important work before us, namely, to deny self.

This hateful self will meet us at every step; for, although we know, through grace, that " our old man is crucified"- that it is dead and buried out of God's sight, still this is only as regards our standing in Christ, according to God's view of us. We know, alas! that self has to be denied, judged, and subjugated, every day, every hour, and every moment. The principle of our standing must be wrought out in practice. God sees us perfect in Christ. We are not in the flesh, but the flesh is in us, and it must be denied and kept under by the power of the Spirit.

And, be it remembered, that it is not merely in its grossness that self must be denied, but in its refinement- not merely in its low habits, but in its cultivated tastes- not merely in its roughness and rudeness, but in its most polished and elegant forms. This is not always seen. It too often happens that, like Saul, we spare that which we consider " the best," and bring the edge of the sword to bear only upon " the vile and refuse." This will never do. It is self that must be denied. Yes, self, in all the length and breadth of that comprehensive word. Not merely some special branches, but the great parent stem-not merely some accessories of nature, but nature itself. It is a comparatively easy matter to deny certain things pertaining to self, while self is pampered and gratified all the time. I may deny my appetite to feed my religious pride. I may starve myself to minister to my love of money. I may wear shabby clothes while I pride myself in sumptuous furniture and a splendid equipage. Hence, the need of being reminded that we must deny self.

And, oh! who can sum up all that is contained in this weighty word, self-denial? Self acts everywhere. In the closet, in the family, in the shop, in the railway carriage, in the street-everywhere, at all times, and under all circumstances. It has its tastes and its habits, its prejudices and predilections, its likings and its dislikings. It must be denied in all these. We may frequently detect ourselves liking our own image. This must be denied with uncommon decision.

Then again in matters of religion, we like those who suit us, who agree and sympathize with us, who admire our opinions or mode of propounding' them. All this must be brought under the sharp edge of the knife of self-denial. If not, we may find ourselves despising some dear and honored Christian, simply because of something which does not suit us; and, on the other hand, we shall laud to the skies some hollow, worthless character, just because of some feature which we like. Indeed, of all the ten thousand shapes, which self assumes, there is not one more hateful than that of religion. Clad in this garb it will make itself the center of a clique, confine its affections within that narrow enclosure, and call that Christian communion. Forth, from this contracted circle, it will diligently expel very one who happens to have a single disagreeable point or angle. It will obstinately refuse to accommodate itself to the scruples and infirmities of others. As to these it will not yield a single hair's breadth, while, at the same time, it will surrender any amount of truth in order to hold fellowship with its own image. All this is terrible and should be most sedulously guarded against.

If my reader will study carefully 1 Cor. 8-10, he will find a most precious lesson on the subject of self-denial. The heading of this entire section might be thus worded, "Any length in self-denial; not an inch in surrendering truth." This should ever be the Christian's motto. If it be merely a question of self, surrender all; if it be a question of truth, surrender nothing. " If meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." (chap. viii. 13.) Noble resolution! May we have grace to carry it out!

Again, "Though I be free from all, yet have I made myself servant unto all, that I might gain the more...... I am made all things to all, that I might by all means save some." (chap ix. 19-22.) "Let no man seek his own" The very thing we are so ready to seek. "But every man another's wealth." The very last thing we feel disposed to do.

It is important and very needful to observe that when the apostle declares that he was " made all things to all," it was entirely a matter of self-denial and not of self-indulgence. He neither indulged himself, nor surrendered a single iota of the truth of God, but made himself servant to all for their good and God's glory. This is our model. May the Lord endow us with grace to imitate it! We are called to surrender not only our points and angles, prejudices and predilections, but also our personal rights for the profit of others. This is the Christian's daily business, and it is as he is enabled to discharge it that he will walk in the footsteps of Jesus, and " get on comfortably to heaven."

Self-Emptiness

The fullness of God ever waits upon an empty vessel. This is a grand practical truth, very easily stated, but involving a great deal more than one might, at first sight, imagine. The entire Book of God illustrates this truth. The history of the people of God illustrates it; and the experience of each believer illustrates it. Whether we study the Book of God, or the ways of God-His ways with all-His ways with each, we have this most precious truth, that "the fullness of God ever waits on an empty vessel."

This holds good with respect to the sinner, in his first coming to Christ; and it holds good with respect to the believer, at every stage of his career, from the starting post to the goal.

I. In the first place, as regards the sinner in his first coming to Christ, what is this but the fullness of God, in redeeming love and pardoning mercy, waiting upon an empty vessel? The real matter is to get the sinner to take the place of an empty vessel. Once there, the whole question is settled. But, ah! what exercise, what struggling, what toil, what conflict, what fruitless efforts, what ups and downs, what vows and resolutions, in hundreds and thousands of cases, ere the sinner is really brought to take the place of an empty vessel, and he filled with God's salvation! How marvelously difficult it is to get the poor legal heart emptied of its legality, that it may be filled with Christ! It will have something of its own to lean upon and cling to. Here lies the root of the difficulty. We can never " draw water from the wells of salvation " until we come thither with empty vessels.

This is difficult work. Many spend years of legal effort ere they reach the grand moral point of self-emptiness, even in its reference to the simple question of righteousness before God. When once they have reached that point, the matter is found to be so simple that the wonder is how they could have spent so long in getting hold of it, and why they had never got hold of it before. There is never any difficulty found, when the sinner really takes the ground of self-emptiness. The question, " Who shall deliver me? " is sure to be followed immediately by the reply, " I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord." Rom. 7

Now, it will always be found that the more completely the sinner gets emptied of himself, the more settled his peace will be. If self and its doings, its feelings and its reasonings, be not emptied out, there will assuredly be doubts and fears, ups and downs, wavering and fluctuation, seasons of darkness and cloudiness afterward. Hence the vital importance of seeking to make a clean riddance of self, so that Christ, " the fullness of the Godhead bodily," may be known and enjoyed. It is the one who can most truthfully and experimentally say,

" I'm a poor sinner and nothing at all,"

that can also adopt as his own that additional line,

" But Jesus Christ is my all in all."

It is ever thus. A full Christ is for an empty sinner, and an empty sinner for a full Christ. They are morally fitted to each other; and the more I experience the emptiness, the more I shall enjoy the fullness. So long as I am full of self-confidence, so long as I am full of trust in my morality, my benevolence, my amiability, my religiousness, my righteousness, I have no room for Christ. All these things must be thrown overboard, ere a full Christ can be apprehended. It cannot be partly self and partly Christ. It must be either the one or the other; and one reason why so many are tossed up and down " in dark uncertainty " is, because they are still cleaving to some little bit of self. It may be a very little bit. They may not, perhaps, be trusting in any works of righteousness that they have done; but still there is something of self retained and trusted in. It may be the very smallest possible atom of the creature-its state, its feelings, its mode of appropriating, its experiences, something or other of the creature kept in which keeps Christ out. In short, it must be so, for if a full Christ were received, a full peace would be enjoyed; and if a full peace be not enjoyed, it is only because a full Christ has not been received. This makes the matter as simple as possible.

Reader, do you fully understand this? Have you, as an empty sinner, come to Christ to be filled with His fullness, to be satisfied with His all-sufficiency, to find the solid rest of your heart and conscience in Him alone? Say, are you, now, fully satisfied with Christ? I earnestly pray you to get this point settled, now. Is Christ enough for your heart, enough for your conscience, enough for your whole moral being? See that you make earnest, real, hearty work of it now. Are you resting wholly in Christ? Which is it, Christ alone, or Christ and something else? Are you, in some secret chamber of your heart, hiding a little fragment of legality-some little atom of creature confidence—some element of self-righteousness? If so, you cannot enjoy true gospel peace. It cannot be. Gospel peace is the result of receiving a full Christ into a heart that has learned its own emptiness. Christ is our peace. True peace is not a mere feeling in the mind. It is found in a divine, living, real Person, even Christ Himself, who, having made peace by the blood of His cross, has become oar peace in the presence of God. This peace can never be disturbed, inasmuch as He who is our peace, is " the same, yesterday, to-day, and forever." (Heb. 13) Were it a mere feeling in the mind, it would prove as variable as the mercury in a barometer. If I am occupied with my feelings, I am not self-emptied, and, as a consequence, I cannot know the joy and peace which flow from being occupied only with Christ, for the fullness of God ever waits upon an empty vessel.

Thus much as to the application of our thesis to the case of a sinner in his first coming to Christ.

II. Let us, now, see how it applies to a believer at every stage of his career. This is a deeply practical branch of the subject. We have very little idea at times of bow full we are of self and the world. Hence it is that in one way or another, we have to be emptied from vessel to vessel. Like Jacob of old, we struggle hard, and hold fast our confidence in the flesh, until at length the source of our strength is dried up, and the ground of our confidence swept from under us, and then we are constrained to cry out,

" Other refuge have I none,

Clings my helpless soul to Thee."

There can be no greater barrier to our peace and habitual enjoyment of God than our being filled with self-confidence. "We must be emptied and humbled. God cannot divide the house with the creature. It is vain to expect it. Jacob had the hollow of his thigh touched, in order that he might learn to lean upon God. The halting Jacob found his sure resource in Jehovah, who only empties us of nature that we may be filled with Himself. He knows that just in so far as we are filled with self-confidence, or creature-confidence, we are robbed of the deep blessedness of being filled with His fullness. Hence, in His great grace and mercy, He empties us out, that we may learn to cling, in childlike confidence, to Him. This is our only place of strength, of victory, and repose.

Some one has said, " I never was truly happy until I ceased to wish to be great." This is a fine moral truth. "When we cease to wish to be anything, when we are content to be nothing, then it is we taste what true greatness-true elevation—true happiness—true peace, really is. The restless desire to be something or somebody, is destructive of the soul's tranquility. The proud heart and ambitious spirit may pronounce this a poor, low, mean, contemptible sentiment; but ah! when we have taken our place on the forms of the school of Christ-when we have begun to learn of Him who was meek and lowly in heart-when we have drunk, in any measure, into the spirit of Him who made Himself of no reputation, we then see things quite differently. " He that humbleth himself shall be exalted." The way to get up is to go down. This is the doctrine of Christ, the doctrine which fell from His lips and is inscribed on His life. " And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, and said, verily, I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever, therefore, shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 18:2-4.) This is the doctrine of heaven-the doctrine of self-emptiness. How unlike to all that obtains down here in this scene of self-seeking and self-exaltation!

We have, in the person of John the Baptist, a fine example of one who entered, in some degree, into the real meaning of self-emptiness. The Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, " Who art thou? What sayest thou of thyself?" What was his reply? A self-emptied one. He said he was just " a voice." This was taking his true place. u A voice" had not much to glory in. He did not say, "1 am one crying in the wilderness." No; he was merely " the voice of one." He had no ambition to be anything more. This was self-emptiness. And, observe the result. He found his engrossing object in Christ. "Again the next day after John stood, and two of his disciples; and looking upon Jesus as he walked, he saith, Behold the Lamb of God!" What was all this, but the fullness of God waiting on an empty vessel! John was nothing, Christ was ail; and hence, when John's disciples left his side to follow Jesus, we may feel assured that no murmuring word, no accent of disappointed ambition or wounded pride escaped his lips. There is no envy or jealousy in a self-emptied heart. There is nothing touchy, nothing tenacious, about one who has learned to take his true place. Had John been seeking his own things, he might have complained when he saw himself abandoned; but, ah! my reader, when a man has found his satisfying object in " the Lamb of God," he does not care much about losing a few disciples.

We have a further exhibition of the Baptist's self-emptied spirit in the third chapter of John. "And they came unto John, and said unto him, Rabbi, he that was with thee beyond Jordan, to whom thou barest witness, behold, the same baptizeth, and all come to him." Here was a communication quite calculated to draw out the envy and jealousy of the poor human heart. But mark the reply, the noble reply, of the Baptist: " A man can receive nothing, except it be given him from heaven......He must increase, but I must decrease. He that cometh from above is above all; he that is of the earth is earthly, and speaketh of the earth: he that cometh from heaven is ABOVE ALL." Precious testimony this! A testimony to his own utter nothingness, and Christ's fullness, glory, and peerless excellence! " A voice" was " nothing." Christ was " high over all."

Oh! for a self-emptied spirit-" A heart at leisure from itself"—a mind delivered from all anxiety about one's own things! May we be more thoroughly delivered from self in all its detestable windings and workings! Then could the Master use us, own us, and bless us. Hearken to His testimony to John-the one who said of himself that he was nothing but a voice. " Verily I say unto you, among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist." (Matt. 11:11.) How much better to hear this from the Master than from the servant! John said, " I am a voice." Christ said he was the greatest of prophets. Simon Magus " gave out that himself was some great one." Such is the way of the world-the manner of man. John the Baptist, the greatest of prophets, gave out that himself was nothing-that Christ was " above all," What a contrast!

May we be kept lowly and self-emptied, that. be continually filled with Christ. This is true wt-true blessedness. May the language of our hearts, and the distinct utterance of our lives ever be, " Behold the Lamb of God."

Self-Judgment: A Needed and Wholesome Exercise

There are few exercises more valuable or healthful for the Christian than self-judgment. I do not mean by this the unhappy practice of looking in upon oneself for evidences of life and security in Christ. This is terrible work. To be looking at a worthless self, instead of at a risen Christ, is as deplorable an occupation as we can well conceive. The idea which many Christians seem to entertain, in reference to what is called self-examination, is truly depressing. They look upon it as an exercise which may end in their discovering that they are not Christians at all. This, I repeat it, is most terrible work.

No doubt it is well for those who have been building upon a sandy foundation, to have their eyes opened to see the dangerous delusion. It is well for such as have been complacently wrapping themselves up in pharisaic robes, to have those robes stripped off. It is well for those who have been sleeping in a house on fire, to be roused from their slumbers. It is well for such as have been walking blindfolded to the brink of some frightful precipice, to have the bandage removed from their eyes so that they may see their danger, and retreat. No intelligent and well regulated mind would think of calling in question the rightness of all this. But then, fully admitting the above, the question of true self-judgment remains wholly untouched. The Christian is never once taught in the Word of God to examine himself with the idea of finding out that he is not a Christian. The very reverse is the case, as I shall endeavor to show.

There are two passages in the New Testament which are sadly misinterpreted. The first is in reference to the, celebration of the Lord's supper: "Let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup. For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation [judgment] to himself, not discerning the Lord's body." 1 Cor. 11:28, 29. Now, it is usual to apply the term "unworthily," in this passage, to persons doing the act, whereas, it really refers to the manner of doing it. The Apostle never thought of calling in question the Christianity of the Corinthians; no, in the opening address of his epistle he looks at them as "the church of God which is at Corinth... sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints" (or saints by calling). How could he use this language in the first chapter, and in the eleventh chapter call in question the worthiness of these saints to take their seat at the Lord's supper? Impossible. He looked upon them as saints and, as such, he exhorted them to celebrate the Lord's supper in a worthy manner. The question of any but true Christians being there is never raised; so that it is utterly impossible that the word "unworthily" could apply to persons. Its application is entirely to the manner. The persons were worthy, but their manner was not; and they were called as saints to judge themselves as to their ways, else the Lord might judge them in their persons, as was already the case. In a word, it was as true Christians they were called to judge themselves. If they were in doubt as to that, they were utterly unable to judge anything. I never think of setting my child to judge as to whether he is my child or not; but I expect him to judge himself as to his habits, else if he do not, I may have to do, by chastening, what he ought to do by self-judgment. It is because I look upon him as my child that I will not allow him to sit at my table with soiled garments and disorderly manners.

The second passage occurs in 2 Cor. 13 "Since ye seek a proof of Christ speaking in me... Examine yourselves" vv. 3-5. The rest of the passage is parenthetic. The real point is this: the Apostle appeals to the Corinthians themselves as the clear proof that his apostleship was divine-that Christ had spoken in him-that his commission was from heaven. He looked upon them as true Christians, notwithstanding all their confusion; but, inasmuch as they were seals to his ministry, that ministry must be divine and, hence, they ought not to listen to the false apostles who were speaking against him. Their Christianity and his apostleship were so intimately connected that to question the one was to question the other. It is, therefore, plain that the Apostle did not call upon the Corinthians to examine themselves with any such idea as that the examination might issue in the sad discovery that they were not Christians at all. Quite the reverse. In truth, it is as if I were to show a real watch to a person and say, "Since you seek a proof that the man who made this is a watchmaker, examine it."

Thus then it seems plain that neither of the above passages affords any warrant for that kind of self-examination for which some contend, which is really based upon a system of doubts and fears, and has no warrant whatever in the Word of God. The self-judgment to which I would call the reader's attention is a totally different thing. It is a sacred Christian exercise of the most salutary character. It is based upon the most unclouded confidence as to our salvation and acceptance in Christ. The Christian is called to judge self,

because he is, and not to see if he be, a Christian. This makes all the difference. Were I to examine self for a thousand years, I should never find it to be aught else than a worthless, ruined, vile thing a thing which God has set aside, and which I am called to reckon as "dead." How could I ever expect to get any comfortable evidences by such an examination? Impossible. The Christian's evidences are not to be found in his ruined self, but in God's risen Christ; and the more he can get done with the former and occupied with the latter, the happier and holier he will be. The Christian judges himself, judges his ways, judges his habits, judges his thoughts, words, and actions, because he believes he is a Christian, not because he doubts it. If he doubts, he is not fit to judge anything. It is as knowing and enjoying the eternal stability of God's grace, the divine efficacy of the blood of Jesus, the all-prevailing power of His advocacy, the unalterable authority of the Word, the divine security of the very feeblest of Christ's sheep-it is as entering, by the teaching of God the Holy Ghost, into these priceless realities, that the true believer judges himself. The human idea of self-examination is founded upon unbelief. The divine idea of self-judgment is founded upon confidence.

But let us never forget that we are called to judge ourselves. If we lose sight of this, nature will soon get ahead of us, and we shall make sorry work of it. The most devoted Christians have a mass of things which need to be judged and if they are not habitually judged they will assuredly cut out abundance of bitter work for them. If there be irritability or levity, pride or vanity, natural indolence or natural impetuosity whatever there be that belongs to our fallen nature, we must, as Christians, judge and subdue that thing. That which is abidingly judged will never get upon the conscience. Self-judgment keeps all our matters right and square; but if nature be not judged, there is no knowing how, when, or where, it may break out and produce keen anguish of soul and bring gross dishonor upon the Lord's name. The most grievous cases of failure and declension may be traced to the neglect of self judgment in little things.

All this is deeply practical and soul-subduing. May all the Lord's people learn to walk in the cloudless sunshine of His favor, in the holy enjoyment of their relationship, and in the habitual exercise of a spirit of self-judgment!

Self-Surrender: Part 1

It is perfectly delightful to contemplate the moral triumphs of Christianity—the victories which it gains over self and the world, and the marvelous way in which such victories are obtained. The law said, Thou shalt do this, and thou shalt not do that. But Christianity speaks a totally different language. In it we see life bestowed as a free gift—life flowing down from a risen and glorified Christ. This is something entirely beyond the range of the law. The language of the law was, "The man which doeth those things shall live by them." Rom. 10:5. Long life in the land was all the law proposed to the man who could keep it. Eternal life in a risen Christ was something utterly unknown and unthought of under the legal system.

But Christianity not only gives eternal life, it gives also an object with which that life can be occupied—a center around which the affections of that life can circulate—a model on which that life can be formed. Thus it gains its mighty moral triumphs. Thus it gains its conquests over a selfish nature and a selfish world. It gives divine life and a divine center; and as the life moves around that center we are taken out of self.

This is the secret of self-surrender. It cannot be reached in any other way. The unconverted man finds his center in self; and hence, to tell him not to be selfish is to tell him not to be at all. This holds true even in the matter of mere religiousness. A man will attend to his religion in order, as he thinks, to promote his eternal interest, but this is quite a different thing from finding an object and a center outside himself. Christianity alone can supply these. The gospel of the grace of God is the only thing that can effectually meet man's need and deliver him from the selfishness which belongs to him. The unrenewed man lives for himself. He has no higher object. The life which he possesses is alienated from the life of God. He is away from God. He moves around another center altogether, and until he is born again, until he is renewed, regenerated, born of the Word and Spirit of God, it cannot be otherwise. Self is his object, his center in all things. He may be moral, amiable, religious, benevolent, but until he is converted, he is not finished with himself as to the ground of his being or as to the center around which that being revolves.

The foregoing train of thought naturally introduces us to the striking and beautiful illustration of our theme afforded in Philippians 2. In it we have a series of examples of self-surrender, commencing with a divinely perfect One, the Lord Himself.

But, ere we proceed to gaze upon this exquisite picture, it may be well to inquire what it was that rendered it needful to present such a picture before the Philippian saints. The attentive reader will doubtless observe, in the course of this most charming epistle, certain delicate touches from the inspired pen leading to the conclusion that the keen and vigilant eye of the Apostle detected a certain root of evil in the bosom of the beloved and cherished assembly gathered at Philippi. To this he addressed himself, not with a sledge hammer or long whip, but with a refinement and delicacy far more powerful than either the one or the other. The mightiest moral results are reached by those delicate touches from the hand of God the Holy Ghost.

But what was the root to which we have referred? It was not a splitting into sects and parties, as at Corinth. It was not a return to law and ritualism, as at Galatia. It was not a hankering after philosophy and the rudiments of the world, as at Colosse. What was it then? It was a root of envy and strife. The sprouting of this root is seen very distinctly in the collision between those two sisters, Euodias and Syntyche (chap. 4:2), but it is glanced at in earlier portions of the epistle, and a divine remedy supplied.

It is a great point with a medical man not only to understand what is wrong with his patient, but also to understand the true remedy. Some physicians are clever in discovering the root of the disease, but they do not know so well what remedy to apply. Others again are skilled in the knowledge of medicine, the powers of various drugs, but they do not know how to apply them to individual cases. The divine Physician knows both the disease and its remedy. He knows exactly what is the matter with us, and He knows what will do us good. He sees the root of the matter, and He applies a radical cure. He does not treat cases superficially. He is perfect in diagnosis. He does not guess at our disease from mere surface symptoms. His keen eye penetrates at once to the very bottom of the case, and His skilful hand applies the true remedy.

Thus it is in the epistle to the Philippians. These saints held a very large place in the heart of the Apostle. He loved them much, and they loved him. Again and again he speaks in grateful accents of their fellowship with him in the gospel from the very first. But all this did not and could not shut his eyes to what was wrong among them. It is said that love is blind. In one sense we look upon this saying as a libel upon love. If it were said that love is superior to faults, it would be nearer the truth. What would anyone give for blind love? Of what use would it be to be loved by one who only loved us because he was ignorant of our blots and blemishes? If it be meant that love will not see our blots, it is blessedly true (Numb. 23:21); but no one would care for a love that was not at once aware of and superior to our failures and infirmities.

Paul loved the saints at Philippi, and rejoiced in their love to him, and tasted the fragrant fruit of that love again and again. But then he saw that it was one thing to love and be kind to a distant apostle, and quite another thing to agree among themselves. Doubtless Euodias and Syntyche both contributed to send a present to Paul, though they were not pulling harmoniously together in the wear and tear of daily life and service. This is, alas! no uncommon case. Many sisters and brothers too are ready to contribute of their substance to help some distant servant of Christ, and yet they do not walk pleasantly together. How is this? There is a lack of self-surrender. This, we may rest assured, is the real secret of much of the "strife" and "vainglory" so painfully manifest in the very midst of the people of God. It is one thing to walk alone, and it is another thing to walk in company with our brethren in the practical recognition of that great truth of the unity of the body, and in the remembrance that "we are members one of another." Christians are not to regard themselves as mere individuals, as isolated atoms, as independent persons. This cannot be, seeing that Scripture declares, "There is one body," and we are members thereof. This is a divine truth-a grand fact-a positive reality. We are not to be like the hairs of an electrified broom, each standing out in lonely individuality. We are living members of a living body, each one having to do with other members with whom we are connected by a bond which no power of earth or hell can sever. In a word, there is a relationship formed by the presence of the Holy Ghost, who not only dwells in each individual member, but is the power of the unity of the one body. It is the presence of God the Spirit in the Church that constitutes that Church the one living body of the living Head.

Now it is when we are called to walk in the actual acknowledgment of this great truth that there is a demand for self-surrender. If we were merely solitary individuals treading each in his own self-chosen path, carrying out his own peculiar thoughts, walking in the sparks of his own kindling, pursuing his own peculiar line of things, indulging his own will, then, indeed, a quantity of self might be retained. If Euodias and Syntyche could have walked alone, there would have been no collision—no strife. But they were called to walk together, and here was the demand for self-surrender.

And be it ever remembered that Christians are not members of a club, of a sect, or of an association; they are members of a body, each connected with all, and all connected by the fact of the indwelling of the Holy Ghost with the risen and glorified Head in heaven.

This is an immense truth, and the practical carrying out of it will cost us not only all we have, but all we are. There is no place in all the universe where self will be so pulled to pieces as in the assembly of God. And is it not well? Is it not a powerful proof of the divine ground on which that assembly is gathered? Are we not—should we not be—glad to have our hateful self thus pulled to pieces?

Shall we—ought we to—run away from those who do it for us? Are we not glad—do we not often pray—to get rid of self? And shall we quarrel with those who are God's instruments in answering our prayers? True, they may do the work roughly and clumsily, but no matter for that. 'Whoever helps me to crush and sink self does me a kind turn, however awkwardly he may do it. One thing is certain, no man can ever rob us of that which, after all, is the only thing worth having; namely, Christ. This is a precious consolation. Let self go; we shall have more of Christ. Euodias might lay the blame on Syntyche, and Syntyche on Euodias; the Apostle does not raise the question of which was right or of which was wrong, but he beseeches both to be "of the same mind in the Lord."

Here lies the divine secret. It is self-surrender. But this must be a real thing. There is no use in talking about sinking self while, at the same time, self is fed and patted on the back. We sometimes pray with marvelous fervor to be enabled to trample self in the dust, and the very next moment, if anyone seems to cross our path, self is like a porcupine with all its quills up. This will never do. God will have us real, and surely we can say, with all our weakness and folly, we want to be real—real in everything—and therefore real when we pray for the power of self-surrender. But, most assuredly, there is no place where there is more urgent demand for this lovely grace than in the bosom of the assembly of God.

Self-Surrender: Part 2

We may range through the wide domain of inspiration and not find a more exquisite model of sell-surrender than that which is presented to us in the opening lines of Philippians 2. It is, we may safely say, impossible for anyone to breathe the holy atmosphere of such a scripture and not be cured of the sore evils of envy and jealousy, strife and vainglory. Let us approach the marvelous picture and, gazing intently upon it, seek to catch its inspiration.

"If there be therefore any consolation in Christ, if any comfort of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any bowels and mercies, fulfill ye my joy, that ye be likeminded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others. Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." vv. 1-8.

Here then is the divine remedy for envy and jealousy, strife and vainglory-for self-occupation, in short, in all its hideous forms. The inspired penman introduces to our hearts the self-emptied, humble, obedient Man, Christ Jesus. Here was One who possessed all power in heaven and earth. Divine majesty and glory belonged to Him. He was God over all, blessed forever. By Him all things were made, and by Him they subsist. And yet He appeared in this world as a poor man-a servant—one who had not where to lay His head. The foxes and the fowls, the creatures of His formation, were better provided for than He, their Maker. They had a place to rest in. He had none. He "made Himself of no reputation." He never thought of Himself at all. He thought of others, cared for them, labored for them, wept for them, ministered to them, but He never did a thing for Himself. We never find Him taking care to supply Himself with anything. His was a life of perfect self-surrender. He who was everything, ma de Himself nothing. He stood in perfect contrast with the first Adam, who, being but a man, thought to make himself like God, and became the serpent's slay e. The Lord Jesus, who was the Most High God, took the very lowest place among men. It is utterly impossible that any man can ever take so low a place as Jesus. The word is, He "made Himself of no reputation." He went so low that no one could possibly put Him lower. He "became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross."

And be it observed that the cross is here viewed as the consummation of a life of obedience—the completion of a work of self-surrender. It is what we may call, to use a Levitical term, the burnt offering aspect of the death of

Christ, rather than the sin offering. True it is-most blessedly true-that the selfsame act which consummated a life of obedience, did also put away sin; but in the passage now before us, sin-bearing is not so much the thought as self-surrender. Jesus gave up all. He veiled His glory and came down into this poor world; and when He came, He eschewed all human pomp and grandeur, and became a poor man. His parents were poor. They were only able to procure the lowest grade of sacrifice which the law admitted for the poor—not a bullock, not a lamb, but a pair of turtledoves. (Compare Lev. 15:29 and Luke 2:24.) He Himself worked, and was known as a carpenter. Nor are we to miss the moral force of this fact by saying that every Jew was brought up to some trade. Our Lord Jesus Christ did really take a low place. The very town where He was brought up was a proverb of reproach. He was called the "Nazarene." And it was asked, with a sneer of contempt, "Is not this the carpenter?" He was a root out of a dry ground. He had no form nor comeliness, no beauty in man's eye. He was the despised, neglected, self-emptied, meek and lowly Man from first to last. He gave up all, even to life itself. In a word, His self-surrender was complete.

And now mark the result. "Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him, and given Him a name which is above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." The blessed Lord Jesus took the very lowest place, but God has given Him the very highest. He made Himself nothing, but God has made Him everything. He said, "I am a worm, and no man"; but God has set Him as Head over a 11. He went into the very dust of death, but God has placed Him on the throne of the Majesty in the heavens.

What does all this teach us? It teaches us that the way to go up is to go down. This is a grand lesson, and one which we much need to learn. It would effectually deliver us from envy and jealousy, from strife and vainglory, from self-importance a n d self-occupation. God will assuredly exalt those who, in the spirit and mind of Christ, take the low place; and, on the other hand, He will as assuredly abase those who seek to be somebody.

O to be nothing! This is true liberty, true happiness, true moral elevation. And then what intense power of attraction in one who makes nothing of himself! And, on the other hand, how repulsive is a pushing, forward, elbowing, self-exalting spirit! How utterly unworthy of one bearing the name of Him who made Himself of no reputation. May we not set it down as a fixed truth that ambition cannot possibly live in the presence of One who emptied Himself? No doubt. An ambitious Christian is a flagrant contradiction.

But there are other samples of self-surrender presented to us in this exquisite Philippians 2-inferior no doubt to the divine model at which we have been gazing, for in this, as in all other things, Jesus must have the pre-eminence. Still, though inferior and imperfect, they are deeply interesting and valuable t o us. Look at Paul. See how deeply he had drunk into his Master's spirit of self-surrender. Hearken to the following a cc en t s from one who naturally would have allowed none to outstrip him in his career of ambition. "Yea," he says, "and if I be offered [poured forth as a drink offering] upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy, and rejoice with you all." v. 17.

This is uncommonly fine. Paul was ready to be nothing -to be spent-to be poured forth as a libation upon the Philippians' sacrifice. It mattered not to him who presented the sacrifice, or who performed the service, provided the thing was done. Does this not cause some of us to blush? How little do we know of this excellent spirit! How prone we are to attach importance to work if we ourselves have anything to do with it. How little able to joy and rejoice with others in their sacrifice and service! Our work, our preaching, our writings, have an interest in our view quite different from those of anyone else. In a word, self, self, detestable self, creeps in even in that which seems to be the service of Christ. We are drawn to those who think well of us and our work, and retire from those who think otherwise. All this needs t o be judged. It is unlike Christ, and unworthy of those who bear His holy name. Paul had so learned Christ as to be able to rejoice in the work and service of others as well as in his own; and even where Christ was preached of contention, he could rejoice.

Then again, look at Paul's son, Timothy. Hearken to the glowing testimony borne to him by the pen of inspiration. "But I trust in the Lord Jesus to send Timotheus shortly unto you, that I also may be of good comfort, when I know your state. For I have no man likeminded, who will naturally care for your state. For all seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ's. But ye know the proof of him, that, as a son with the father, he hath served with me in the gospel." vv. 19-22.

Her e was self-surrender. Timothy genuinely cared for the saints; and that too at a moment when all sought their own things. And yet, dear as Timothy was to Paul's heart—valuable as such a self-denying servant must have been to him in the work of the gospel-he was willing to part with him for the sake of the Church. Timothy, likewise, was willing to be separated from his invaluable friend and father in the faith in order to ease his anxious mind in reference to the state of the Philippians. This was indeed giving proof of real devotedness and self-surrender. Timothy did not talk of these things; he practiced them. He did not make a parade of his doings; but Paul, by the Holy Ghost, engraved them on a tablet from which they can never be erased. This was infinitely better. Let another praise thee and not thyself. Timothy made nothing of himself, but Paul made a great deal of him. This is divine. The sure way to get up is to go down. Such is the law of the heavenly road. A man who makes much of himself saves others the trouble of doing so. There is no possible use in two persons doing the same thing. Self-importance is a noxious weed nowhere to be found in the entire range of the new creation. It is alas! often found in the ways of those who profess to belong to that blessed and holy creation, but it is not of heavenly growth. It is of fallen nature -a weed that grows luxuriantly in the soil of this world. The men of this age think it laudable to push and make way for themselves. A bustling, s elf -imp or t an t, pretentious style takes with the children of this generation. But our heavenly Master was the direct opposite to all this. He who made the worlds stooped to wash a disciple's feet (John 13); and if we are like Him we shall do the same There is nothing more foreign to the thoughts of God, the mind of heaven, the spirit of Jesus, than self-importance and self-occupation. And, on the other hand, there is nothing that savors so of God, of heaven, and of Jesus, as self-surrender.

Look once more reader, at our picture in Philippians 2. Examine with special care that figure which occupies a very prominent place. It is Epaphroditus. Who was he? Was he a great preacher, a very eloquent speaker, a preeminently gifted brother? We are not told. But this we are told-and told powerfully and touchingly-he was one who exhibited a lovely spirit of self-surrender. This is better than all the gifts and eloquence, power and learning, that could possibly be concentrated in any single individual. Epaphroditus was one of that illustrious class who seek to make nothing of themselves; and, as a consequence, the inspired Apostle spares no pains to exalt him. Hear how he expatiates upon the actings of this singularly attractive personage. "Yet I supposed it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother, and companion in labor, and fellow soldier, but your messenger, and he that ministered to my wants."

What a cluster of dignities! What a brilliant array of titles! How little did this dear and unpretending servant of Christ imagine that he was to have such a monument erected to his memory! But the Lord will never suffer the fruits of self-sacrifice to wither, n o r the name of the self-emptied to sink into oblivion. Hence it is that the name of one who otherwise might never have been heard of shines on the page of inspiration as the brother, companion, and fellow soldier of the great Apostle of the Gentiles.

But what did this remarkable man do? Did he spend a princely fortune in the cause of Christ? We are not told, but we are told what is far better-he spent himself. This is the grand point for us to seize and ponder. It was not the surrender of his fortune merely, but the surrender of himself. Let us hearken to the record concerning one of the true David's mighty men. "He longed after you all, and was full of heaviness." Why? Was it because he was sick? because of his pains, and aches, and privations? Nothing of the sort. Epaphroditus did not belong to the generation of whiners and complainers. He was thinking of others. "He... was full of heaviness, because that ye had heard that he had been sick." How lovely! He was occupied about the Philippians and their sorrow about him. The only thing that affected him in his illness was the thought of how it would affect them. Perfectly exquisite! This honored servant of Christ had brought himself to death's door to serve others, and when there, in place of being occupied about himself and his ailments, he was thinking of the sorrows of others. "He was sick nigh unto death: but God had mercy on him; and not on him only, but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow."

Can anything be morally more beautiful than this? It is one of the rarest pictures ever presented to the human eye.

There is Epaphroditus, nigh unto death for the sake of others, but he is full of sorrow about the Philippians; and the Philippians are full of sorrow about him; Paul is full of sorrow about both, and God comes and mingles Himself with the scene and, in mercy to all, raises up the loved one from the bed of death.

And then mark the tender solicitude of the blessed Apostle. It is like some tender mother sending her darling son away and committing him, with fond earnestness, to the care of some friend. "I sent him therefore the more carefully, that, when ye see him again, ye may rejoice, and that I may be the less sorrowful. Receive him therefore in the Lord with all gladness; and hold such in reputation." Why? Was it because of his gifts, his rank, or his wealth? No; but because of his self-surrender. "Because for the work of Christ he was nigh unto death, not regarding his life, to supply your lack of service toward me." O dear Christian reader, let us think on these things. We have introduced you to a picture and we leave you to gaze upon it. The grouping is divine. There is a moral line running through the entire scene and linking the figures into one striking group. It is like the anointing of the true Aaron, and the oil flowing down to the skirts of His garments. We have the blessed Lord, perfect in His self-surrender, as in all beside; and then we have Paul, Timothy, and Epaphroditus, each, in his measure, exhibiting the rare and lovely grace of self-surrender.

Separation: Not Fusion

" Therefore, thus saith the Lord, If thou return, then will I bring thee again, and thou shalt stand before me; and if thou take forth the precious from the vile, thou shalt be as my mouth; let them return unto thee; but return not thou unto them.' Jer. 15:19.

The principle laid down in the foregoing passage is of the deepest possible importance to all who desire to walk with God. It is by no means a popular principle; very far from it. But this does not detract from its value in the judgment of those who are taught of God. In an evil world the popular thing is almost sure to be the wrong thing; and whatever has most of God—most of Christ—most of pure truth—is sure to be most unpopular. This is an axiom in the judgment of faith, inasmuch as Christ and the world are at opposite points of the moral compass.

Now, one of the most popular ideas of the day is fusion, or amalgamation; and all who desire to be accounted men of broad sympathies and liberal sentiments go thoroughly in for this grand object. But we hesitate not to avow that nothing can be more opposed to the revealed mind of God. We make this statement in the full consciousness of its opposition to the universal judgment of Christendom. For this we are quite prepared. Not that we court opposition; but we have long since learned to distrust the judgment of what is called the religious world, because we have so constantly found that judgment to be diametrically opposed to the plainest teaching of holy scripture; and it is, we can truly say, our deep and earnest desire to stand with the word of God against everything and everyone; for we are well assured that nothing can abide forever, save that which is based upon the imperishable foundation of holy scripture.

What, then, does scripture teach on the subject of this paper? Is it separation, or fusion? What was the instruction to Jeremiah in the passage quoted above? Was he told to try and amalgamate with those around him? Was he to seek to mingle the precious with the vile? The very reverse. Jeremiah was taught of God first of all to return himself—to stand apart even from those who were the professed people of God, but whose ways were contrary to His mind. And what then? "I will bring thee again, and thou shalt stand before me."

Here, then, we have Jeremiah's personal path and position most clearly laid down. He was to return, and take his stand with God in thorough separation from evil. This was his bounden duty, regardless of the thoughts of men, or of his brethren. They might deem and pronounce him narrow, bigoted, exclusive, intolerant, and the like; but with that he had nothing whatever to do. His one grand business was to obey. Separation from evil was the divine rule, not amalgamation with it. The latter might seem to offer a wider field of usefulness, but mere usefulness is not the object of a true servant of Christ, but simple obedience. The business of a servant is to do what he is told, not what he considers right or good. If this were better understood, it would simplify matters amazingly. If God calls us to separation from evil, and we imagine we can do more good by amalgamation with it, how shall we stand before Him? How shall we meet Him? Will He call that good which resulted from positive disobedience to His word? Is it not plain that our first, our last, our only duty, is to obey? Assuredly. This is the foundation, yea, it is the sum and substance of all that can really be called good.

But was there not something for Jeremiah to do in his narrow path and circumscribed position? There was. His practice was defined with all possible clearness. And what was it? "If thou separate the precious from the vile, thou shalt be as my mouth." He was not only to stand and walk in separation himself, but he was to try and separate others also. This might give him the appearance of a proselytizer, or of one whose object was to draw people over to his way of thinking. But here again he had to rise above all the thoughts of men. It was far better, far higher, far more blessed, for Jeremiah to be as God's mouth, than to stand well with his fellows. What are man's thoughts worth? Just nothing. When his breath goeth out of him, in that very hour his thoughts perish. But God's thoughts shall endure forever. If Jeremiah had set about mingling the precious with the vile, he would not have been as God's mouth; nay, he would have been as the devil's mouth. Separation is God's principle; fusion is Satan's.

It is counted liberal, large-hearted, and charitable, to be ready to associate with all sorts of people. Confederacy, association, limited liabilities, are the order of the day. The Christian must stand apart from all such things; not because he is better than other people, but because God says, " Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers." It was not because Jeremiah was better than his brethren that he had to separate himself, but simply because he was commanded to do so by Him whose word must ever define the course, govern the conduct, and form the character of His people. And, further, we may rest assured it was not in sourness of temper, or severity of spirit, but in profound sorrow of heart and humility of mind that Jeremiah separated himself from those around him. He could weep day and night over the condition of his people; but the necessity of separation was as plain as the word of God could make it. He might tread the path of separation with broken heart and weeping eyes, but tread it he must if he would be as God's mouth, Had he refused to tread it, he would have been making himself to be wiser than God. What, though those around him, his brethren and friends, might not be able, to understand or appreciate his conduct; with this he had nothing whatever to do. He might refer them to Jehovah for an explanation, but his business was to obey, not to explain or apologize.

Thus it is always. "Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? And what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel? And what agreement hath the temple of God with idols? For ye are the temple of the living God; as God hath said, I will dwell in them, and walk in them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. "Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean; and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." 2 Cor. 6:14-18.

It may seem very plausible and very popular to say, " We ought not to judge other people. How can we tell whether people are believers or not? It is not for us to set ourselves up as holier than others. It is charitable to hope the best. If people are sincere, what difference does it make as to creeds? Each one is entitled to hold his own opinions. It is only a matter of views after all."

To all this we reply, God's word commands Christians to judge, to discern, to discriminate, to come out, to be separate. This being so, all the plausible arguments and reasonings that can possibly be adduced are, in the judgment of a true-hearted, single-eyed, servant of Christ, lighter by far than the small dust of the balance.

Hearken to the following weighty words from the blessed apostle Paul to his son Timothy—words bearing down with unmistakable clearness upon all the Lord's people at this very moment: "Nevertheless, the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, the Lord knoweth them that are his. And let everyone that nameth the name of Christ depart from, iniquity. But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and of silver, but also of wood and of earth; and some to honor, and some to dishonor. If a man purge himself from these (the dishonorable vessels), he shall be a vessel unto honor, sanctified, and meet for the master's use, and prepared unto every good work." 2 Tim. 2:19-21.

Here we see that if any man desires to be a sanctified vessel, meet for the Master's use, and prepared, unto every good work, he must separate himself from the iniquity and the dishonorable vessels around him. There is no getting over this without flinging God's word overboard; and surely to reject God's word is to reject Himself. His word commands me to purge myself, to depart from iniquity, to turn away from those who have only a form of godliness, but deny its power.

A Sleepless Night

(Read Esther 6)

"On that night could not the king sleep." How was this? What was it that drove sleep from the monarch's eyes, and slumber from his eyelids? Why could not the mighty Ahasuerus enjoy a mercy, which doubtless, was the portion of the very meanest of his subjects? Some may say, "The heavy cares of royalty robbed him of that which ' a laboring man1 enjoys." This might be so on other nights; but, "n that night" we must account for his restlessness in quite another way. The finger of the Almighty was in that sleepless night. "The Lord God of the Hebrews” had a mighty work to accomplish on behalf of His beloved people, and, in order to bring that about, He drove “balmy sleep" from the luxurious couch of the monarch of one hundred and twenty-seven provinces.

This brings out in a very marked way the character of the Book of Esther. The reader will observe that, throughout this interesting section of inspiration, the name of God is never heard, and yet His finger is visibly stamped upon everything. The most trivial circumstance displays His “wonderful counsel and excellent working." Nature's vision cannot trace the movement of the wheels of Jehovah's chariot; but faith not only traces it, but knows the direction in which it tends. The enemy plots, but God is above him. Satan's every movement is seen to be but a link in the marvelous chain of events, by which the God of Israel was bringing about His purpose of grace respecting His people. Thus it has been; thus it is; and thus it shall ever be. Satan's malice—man's pride—the most hostile influences—all are but so many instruments in the hand of God, for the accomplishment of His gracious purposes. This gives the sweetest rest to the heart, amid the ceaseless tossings and fluctuations of human affairs. “The end of the Lord shall assuredly be seen."His counsel shall stand, and he will do all his pleasure.” Blessed be His name for this soul-sustaining assurance! It quiets the heart, at all times. Jehovah is behind the scenes. Every wheel, every screw, every pivot in the vast machine of human affairs is under His control. Though His name be not known or acknowledged by the children of earth, His finger is seen, His word is trusted, and His end expected by the children of faith.

How clearly is all this seen in the Book of Esther. Vashti's beauty—the king's pride therein—his unseemly command—her indignant refusal—the advice of the king's counselors—all, in short, is but the unfolding of Jehovah's ripening purposes. Of "all the fair young virgins gathered at Shushan the palace,'' not one must be allowed to win the king's heart, save Esther—the daughter of an obscure Jewish house—a desolate orphan. Again, of all the officers, ministers, and attendants, about the palace, not one must be allowed to discover the conspiracy against the king's life, save " a certain Jew whose name was Mordecai.'' And, on that sleepless night, nothing must be brought to while away the monarch's weary hours, save "the book of the records of the chronicles." Strange recreation for a voluptuous king! But God was at the back of all this. There was a certain record in that book, about "a certain Jew," which must be brought immediately under the eye of the restless monarch. Mordecai must come into notice. He must be rewarded for his fidelity; and so rewarded, as to cover with overwhelming confusion the face of the proud Amalekite. At the very moment that this record was passing under review, none other than the haughty and wicked Haman must be seen in the court of the king's house. He had come in order to compass the death of Mordecai; but, he is forced, by the providence of God, to plan for Mordecai's triumph and dignity. He had come to get him hanged on a gallows; but, he is made to clothe him with the king's robe, to set him on the king's horse, and, like a footman, to conduct him through the street of the city; and, like a mere herald, to announce his triumph.

"Oh! scenes surpassing fable, and yet true."

Who could have imagined that the noblest lord in all the dominions of Ahasuerus—a descendant of the house of Agag, should be compelled thus to wait upon a poor Jew—and that, too, such a lord—such a Jew—and, at such a moment? Surely, the finger of the Almighty was in all this. Who but an infidel, an atheist, or a scepter, could question a truth so obvious?

Thus much, as to the Providence of God. Let us, now, look for a moment at the pride of Haman. Despite of all his dignity, wealth, and splendor, his wretched heart was wounded by one little matter, not worth a thought, in the judgment of a really great mind, or well regulated heart. He was rendered miserable by the simple fact that Mordecai would not bow to him! Albeit he occupied the nearest place to the throne—although entrusted with the king's ring—although possessed of princely wealth, and placed in a princely station, "yet," he says, "all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king's gate." (chap. 5:13.) Miserable man! The highest position—the greatest wealth—the most extensive influence—the most flattering tokens of royal favor—all "availed nothing" just because a poor Jew refused to bow to him! Such is the human heart! such is man! such is the world!

But "pride cometh before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." Haman proved this. At the very moment when he seemed to be about to plant his foot on the loftiest summit of his ambition, a just and retributive Providence had so brought it about that he was, in a most marvelous manner, compelled to prepare a triumph for Mordecai—a gallows for himself. The man whose very presence embittered a life of magnificence and splendor, he is obliged to wait upon; and the very gallows which he had ordered to be prepared for his intended victim, was made use of for his own execution!

And, here, let us ask, why did Mordecai refuse to bow to Haman? Did it not seem like a blind obstinacy to refuse the customary honor to the king's noblest lord—his highest officer? Assuredly not. Haman, it is true, was the highest officer of Ahasuerus; but he was the greatest "enemy of Jehovah," being the greatest "enemy of the Jews." He was an Amalekite; and Jehovah had sworn that He would "have war with Amalek from generation to generation." (Exod. 17:1G.) How, then, could a true son of Abraham bow to one with whom Jehovah was at war? Impossible. Mordecai could save the life of an Ahasuerus, but he never could bow to an Amalekite. As a faithful Jew, he walked too closely with the God of his fathers, to admit of his paying court to one of the seed of Amalek.

Hence, then, Mordecai's stern refusal to bow to Haman, was not the fruit of a blind obstinacy and senseless pride, but of lovely faith in, and high communion with, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He could never relinquish the dignity which belonged to the Israel of God. He would abide, by faith, under Jehovah's banner; and, while so abiding, he could never do obeisance to an Amalekite. What, though His people were "scattered and peeled"—"though their beautiful house" was in ruins—though Jerusalem's ancient glory was departed—was faith, therefore, to abandon the high position assigned, by God's counsels, to His people? By no means. Faith would recognize the ruin, and walk softly; while, at the same time, it laid hold of God's promise, and occupied, in holy dignity, the platform which that promise had opened up for all who believed it. Mordecai was made to feel, deeply, the ruin. He clothed himself in sackcloth, but he would never bow to an Amalekite.

And what was the result? His sackcloth was exchanged for royal apparel. His place at the king's gate was exchanged for a place next the throne. He realized, in his own happy experience, the truth of that ancient promise, that Israel should be "the head and not the tail." Thus it was with this faithful Jew of old. He took his stand on that elevated ground where faith ever places the soul. He shaped his way, not according to nature's view of things around, but according to faith's view of the word of God. Nature might say, "Why not lower your standard of action to the level of your circumstances? Why not suit yourself to your outward condition? Had you not better acknowledge the Amalekite, seeing that the Amalekite is in the place of power?" Nature might speak thus, but faith's answer was simple: "Jehovah hath sworn that he will have war with Amalek, from generation to generation." Thus it is ever. Faith lays hold of THE LIVING GOD AND HIS ETERNAL WORD, and abides in peace and walks in holy elevation.

Christian reader, may the hallowed instruction of the Book of Esther be brought home to our souls, in the power of the Holy Ghost. In it, we see the Providence of God—the pride of man—the power of faith. Moreover we are furnished with a striking picture of the actions of Jehovah, on behalf of His people Israel—the sudden overthrow of their last proud oppressor—and their final restoration, and everlasting blessedness, rest, and glory.

Stability and Peace

" Save not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest."

Here lies the true secret of stability and peace, at all times, and under all circumstances. The authority of God for the ground we occupy, and His presence with us thereon—the word of the Lord, as the warrant for what we are doing, and the light of His countenance in the doing of it. There is no possibility of getting on without these two things. It will not do merely to be able to give chapter and verse, as we say, for a certain position which we have taken up; we must realize the Lord's own presence with us. And, on the other hand, it will not do to say we have the Lord's presence with us, unless we can give a divine warrant—a "Thus saith the Lord"—for what we are doing, and for the path we are treading.

Joshua could never have faced the difficulties of his day, without these two things; and, although we may not have to meet the same things that lay in his path, yet, we may rest assured of this, we shall never get on, in this our day, without the word of God as our authority, and His presence as our strength. Our lot is cast in a moment of special confusion. A multitude of conflicting voices fall on the ear. Men are taking sides. We see apparently the best and holiest, the most devoted and intelligent men ranged on opposite sides of the same question, and pursuing opposite ways, though professing to follow the same Lord. What are we to think? What are we to do? What do we want? We want to hear, deep down in our very inmost soul, these two weighty and imperishable sentences, " Have not I commanded thee?"—" Lo, I am with thee." These are grand realities, which the very feeblest and most unlettered saint may enjoy, and without which none can possibly make head against the tide of evil at present rising around us.

Never, perhaps, in the annals of Christianity, was there a moment which more imperatively demanded the most direct personal dealing of the soul with God and His truth. It will not do for any one to pin his faith to the sleeve of another. God is testing souls in a very remarkable manner. The sieve is doing its solemn work in the midst of the Church. No doubt, those who are enabled to go through the sifting and testing, with God, will reap a rich harvest of blessing; but we must go through it. It is being made manifest, just now, in a very special way, whose faith is standing merely in the wisdom of men, and whose in the power of God. All that is hollow is being exposed, and will be so more and more; but God will keep those whose hearts are true to the name of Jesus. " Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee."

This is the soul's unfailing refuge, at all times. It was to this the apostle Paul directed the elders of Ephesus, at. the close of his touching and pathetic address, in Acts 20 " And now, brethren, I commend you to God, and to the word of his grace." He does not commend them to any order of men; not even to apostles or their successors; to general councils or their decrees; to fathers or their traditions; to doctors or their dogmas. Ah! no; none of these would avail in the presence of the " grievous wolves" which were about to enter in among them, and amid the "perverse things" which some from among themselves! would give utterance to. Nothing but God Himself and the word of His grace could stand,, in an evil day, or enable a soul to stand.

There is something perfectly beautiful in the jealous care of the apostle Paul lest any should lean upon him, or upon anything save the living God Himself. Hearken to the following glowing passage, " For this cause also thank we God without ceasing, because, when ye received the word of God which ye heard of us, ye received it not as the word of men, but as it is in truth, the word of God which effectually worketh also in you that believe." (1 Thess. 2:13.) That devoted, single-hearted workman only sought to connect souls with God by means of His word. This is the object of all true ministry. Where the ministry is not true, not of God, it will connect souls with itself; and, in that case human influence will be brought to bear—weight of character—education—mental power—wealth—position—a thousand things, in short, which are all used to form a foundation for the soul's confidence and shut it out from God. Thus the faith of the soul is made to rest in the wisdom of men and not in the power of God.

Christian reader, we want you to ponder this matter deeply. Be assured it demands your serious attention. See that your soul is resting on the deep and solid foundation of God's word—that you have His direct and positive authority for where you are and what you are doing. And then see also that you have His presence with you. These two things will impart sweet peace to your spirit, and holy stability to your path, come what may. " Have not I commanded thee?"—" Lo, I am with thee." It is your happy privilege to know the reality of these things, just as fully and just as distinctly in your day, as did Joshua in his day, Jeremiah in his day, and the apostles in their day. The measure of apprehension may vary—the circumstances may differ; but the ground or principle is the same always. Do not, therefore, we entreat of you, be satisfied with anything less than God's authority and God's presence. Be not troubled or perplexed about the conflicting opinions of men. You must expect these. They are nothing new. But remember that, far above all the din and confusion, the strife and controversy, the opposition of sects and parties—far above all these things, in the clear light of the divine presence, in the calmness of the inner sanctuary, faith can hear with distinctness those precious, soul-sustaining accents, "Have not I commanded thee?יי—" Lo, I am with thee."

These things can never fail, they are imperishable. See that you possess them, just now. Be able, in the calm dignity of a faith that rests only in the power and on the authority of God, to give a reason for the path that you tread, the work you do, the niche you fill. This is not high-mindedness or haughtiness, dogmatism or pride, self-confidence or vain-glory. It is the very reverse. It is self-abnegation and confidence in God. " With the lowly is wisdom." Precious truth 1 May we all remember it! It is the lowly mind that really possesses heavenly wisdom. It is not the learned, the astute, the long-headed, or clearheaded among men that can thread their way through the labyrinths of the present moment; no, it is the lowly, the simple, the self-distrusting, the childlike, the unpretending. These are they who will have wisdom to guide them, in darkest times—these are they who will possess peace in their souls and stability in their ways. May God's Spirit lead us into these things!

Stephen

(Acts 7:55-60.)

There are two grand facts which characterize Christianity, and mark it off from all that had gone before; and these are, first, man glorified in heaven; and secondly, God dwelling in man on the earth. These are, unquestionably, stupendous facts, divinely glorious, and fitted to produce the most powerful effect upon the heart and life of the Christian.

But they are peculiar to Christianity. They were never known until redemption was fully accomplished, and the Redeemer took His seat at the right hand of the Majesty in the heavens. Then was seen, for the first time in the annals of eternity, a Man on the throne of God. "Wondrous sight! Magnificent result of accomplished redemption! The enemy seemed to have triumphed when the first man was expelled from Eden; but 10! the second Man has made His victorious way into heaven, and taken His seat on the eternal throne of God.

This, we repeat, is a fact of transcendent glory, and the counterpart—the companion fact thereof is God the Holy Ghost dwelling with and in man on the! earth. These things were unknown in Old Testament times. What did Abraham know of a glorified man in heaven? What did any of the ancient worthies know of it? Nothing; how could they? There was no man on the throne of heaven until Jesus took His seat there; and, until He was glorified in heaven, the Holy Ghost could not take up His abode in man on the earth. "He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, 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: for the Holy Ghost was not yet; because that Jesus was not yet glorified." (John 7:38, 39.) " Nevertheless I tell you the truth; it is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you." John 16:7.

Here we have our two facts linked together in the most direct and positive manner: Christ glorified above; and the Holy Ghost dwelling in man below. The two arc inseparably connected; the latter is entirely dependent upon the former; and both together form the two great distinguishing features of that glorious Christianity revealed in the gospel of God.

It is not by any means our purpose to enter upon any elaborate proof of these truths. We assume them as established; and, moreover, we assume that the christian reader cordially receives and holds them as eternal verities, and that he is prepared to appreciate the illustration of their practical power and formative influence presented in the history of Stephen, as recorded in Acts 7:55-60. Let us draw near and gaze on the marvelous picture—the picture of a true Christian.

The principal part of this chapter is occupied with a most powerful unfolding of the history of the nation of Israel—a history stretching from the call of Abraham to the death of Christ. At the close of his address, Stephen made a pungent application to the consciences of his hearers, which drew forth all their most bitter animosity and deadly rage. " When they heard these things they were cut to the heart, and they gnashed on him with their teeth." Here we see the effect of religiousness without Christ. These men were the professed guardians of religion, and the guides of the people; but it proved to be religion versus Christianity. In them we have the terrible exponent of a godless, Christless religion; just as in Stephen, we have the lovely exhibition of true Christianity. They were full of religious animosity and rage: he was full of the Holy Ghost. They gnashed their teeth: his face was like that of an angel. What a contrast!

But we must quote the passage for the reader.

" But he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looked up steadfastly into heaven, and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God, and said, Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God."

Here are our two great facts, again, displayed in a man of like passions with ourselves. Stephen was full of the Holy Ghost, and his earnest gaze was fixed on a glorified Man in heaven. This is Christianity. This is the true, the normal idea of a Christian. He is a man full of the Holy Ghost, looking up, with the steady gaze of faith, into heaven, and occupied with a glorified Christ. We cannot accept any lower standard than this, short as we may come of it practically. No doubt it is very high and very holy; and, moreover, we have to confess how very little we are up to it. Still it is the divine standard, and every devoted heart will aspire to it and nothing less. It is the happy privilege of every Christian to be full of the Holy Ghost, and to have the eye of faith fixed on the glorified Man in heaven. There is no divine reason why it should not be so. Redemption is accomplished; sin is put away; grace reigns through righteousness; there is a Man on the throne of God; the Holy Ghost has come down to this earth and taken up His abode in the believer individually, and in the Church corporately.

Thus it stands. And, be it carefully noted, that these things are not mere speculations, or cold, uninfluential theories. Alas! they may be held as such, but in themselves they are not such; but, on the contrary, immensely practical, divinely formative, powerfully influential, as we can distinctly sec in the case of the blessed martyr Stephen. It is impossible to read the closing verses of Acts 7 and not see the powerful effect produced upon Stephen by the object which filled the vision of his soul. There we behold a man surrounded by the most terrible circumstances, malignant enemies rushing upon him, death staring him in the face; but, instead of being hi any wise affected or governed by those circumstances, he is entirely governed by heavenly objects. He looked up steadfastly into heaven, and there he saw Jesus. Earth was rejecting him, as it had already rejected his Lord; but heaven was opened to him, and, looking up into that open heaven, he caught some of the rays of glory shining in the face of his risen Lord; and, not only caught them, but reflected them back upon the moral gloom which surrounded him.

Now, is not all this most deeply practical? Assuredly it is. Stephen was not only lifted above his surroundings in the most wonderful manner, but he was enabled to exhibit to his persecutors the meekness and grace of Christ. In him we see a most striking illustration of 2 Cor. 3:18—a passage of singular depth and fullness. "But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Lord the Spirit."

Only see how all this is livingly unfolded in the scene before us. The very highest expression of heavenly Christianity is met by the deepest, darkest, and most deadly display of religious rancor. ΛΥ0 can see the two culminating in the death of the first christian martyr. " Then they cried out with a loud voice, and stopped their ears, and ran upon him with one accord, and cast him out of the city, and stoned him: and the witnesses laid down their clothes at a young man's feet whose name was Saul. And they stoned Stephen, calling upon God, and saying, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit! And he kneeled down, and cried with a loud voice, Lord, lay not this sin to their charge. And when he had said this he fell asleep."

Here, then, is genuine practical Christianity—living conformity to the image of Christ. Here we see a man so lifted above circumstances, so lifted out of himself, as to be able—after the pattern of his Lord—to pray for his murderers. Instead of being occupied with himself, or thinking of his own sufferings, he thinks of others and pleads for them. So far as he was concerned all was settled. His eye was fixed on the glory—so fixed as to catch its concentrated beams, and reflect them back upon the very faces of his murderers. His countenance was radiant with the light of that glory into which he was about to enter, and he was enabled, by the power of the Holy Ghost, to imitate his blessed Master, and to spend Ids last breath in praying for his murderers: " Lord, lay not this sin to their charge." And what then? Why then he had nothing more to do but fall asleep—to close his eyes upon a scene of death, and open them upon a scene of deathless glory—or rather to enter upon that scene which already filled the vision of Ins enraptured soul.

Reader, let us remember that this is true Christianity. It is the happy privilege of a Christian to be full of the Holy Ghost, looking off from himself and up from his surroundings, whatever they may be, gazing steadfastly into heaven, and occupied with the glorified man Christ Jesus. The necessary result of being thus occupied is practical living conformity to that blessed One on whom the eye is fixed. We become like Him in spirit, in ways, in our entire character. It must be so. " We all, with open face mirroring the glory, are changed into the same image."

It is of the very last possible importance to see and know that nothing short of this is up to the mark of the Christianity presented in the New Testament. This is the divine standard; nor should we be satisfied with anything less. We see in Stephen a man reflecting the glory of Christ, in a very positive practical way. He was not merely talking about glory, but actually reflecting it. We may talk largely about heavenly glory, while our practical ways are anything but heavenly. It was not so with Stephen. He was a living mirror, in which men could see the glory reflected. And should it not be so with us? Unquestionably. But is it so? Are we so absorbed with our risen Lord—so fixed on Him, so centered in Him—as that our fellow men—those with whom we meet, from day to day, can see the traits, the features, the lineaments of His image reflected in our character, our habits, our spirit, our style? Alas! alas! we cannot say much on this score. But then, dearly beloved christian reader, can we not, at least, say, "It is our heart's deep and earnest desire to be so occupied and filled with Christ as that His lovely grace may shine out in us to the praise of His name?" God, in his rich mercy, grant that our eye may be so fixed on Jesus as that we too may, in some degree, mirror the glory, and thus shed some tiny ray of that glory upon the darkness around!

When the pangs of trial seize us,

When the waves of sorrow roll,

I will lay my head on Jesus -

Pillow of the troubled soul:

Surely none can feel like thee,

Weeping One of Bethany!

"Jesus wept!"—that tear of sorrow

Is a legacy of love.

Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow,

He the same doth ever prove.

Thou art all in all to me,

Living One of Bethany!

Superstition and Infidelity

It is a very common saying that "extremes meet," and certainly its truth is forcibly illustrated in the two things named at the head of this article, superstition and infidelity—things which, though so unlike, do, nevertheless, meet in one point, namely, positive opposition to the plain word of god. They both alike rob the soul of the authority, preciousness, and power of divine revelation. True, they do this in different ways; but they do it—they reach this point by different routes; but they reach it. Hence it is that we link them together, and lift a warning voice against both. The two elements are working around us, in very subtle and dangerous forms, and the human mind is tossed like a ball from one to the other.

Now, it is not, by any means, our purpose, in this brief paper, to analyze these two evil influences. We merely call the attention of our readers to the startling fact that wherever they operate they are found in direct hostility to the truth of god. Superstition admits that there is a divine revelation; but it denies that anyone can understand it, save by the interpretation of the clergy or the church. In other words, the word of God is not sufficient without man's aid. God has spoken, but I cannot hear His voice, or understand His word without human intervention.

This is superstition. Infidelity, on the other hand, boldly denies a divine revelation—does not believe in such a thing, at all—maintains that God could not give as a book-revelation of His mind and will. Infidels can write books and can tell us their mind and will; but God cannot.

So says infidelity, and so saying it finds a point of contact in common with superstition. For, may we not lawfully inquire, wherein lies the difference between denying that God has spoken, and maintaining that He cannot make us understand what He says? Would there be any appreciable difference between the man who could deny that the sun shines, and the man who could maintain that, though he shines, you need a rush-light to enable you to enjoy his beams? We confess they both seem to us to stand on precisely the same moral ground. The infidelity that boldly and impiously denies that God can speak His mind to man, is little, if at all, worse than the superstition which denies that He can make man understand what He says. Both are alike dishonoring to God; and by both alike is man deprived of the priceless treasure of the volume of divine inspiration.

We are extremely anxious that the reader should seize this fact. Indeed our one object in penning these lines is to put him in full possession of it. We consider that we shall have done him good service if he rises from the perusal of this paper with the clear and firm conviction wrought in his soul that infidelity and superstition are the two great agencies by which the devil is seeking to remove from beneath our feet the solid rock of holy scripture—that, in short, it is, to use a law phrase, infidelity and superstition versus divine revelation.

And let the reader further note what is of interest and importance, namely, that both infidelity and superstition are alike impious and absurd. It is as impious and absurd to affirm that God could not write a book, as to say that He could not make us understand the book that He has written. In point of fact, in either case, it is reducing God below the level of the creature, which is simply blasphemy. Is it not strange that a man who undertakes to give us a written revelation of Ins mind, should deny that God could do the same? And is it not equally strange that man should undertake to expound and interpret the scriptures to his fellow, and yet deny that God could do the same? Well, the former is infidelity; the latter, superstition; and both alike exalt the creature and blaspheme the Creator—both alike shut out God, and rob the soul of the unspeakable privilege of direct intercourse and communion with God, by means of His word.

Thus it has been, from the beginning, and thus it is now. " There is nothing new under the sun." It has ever been the grand object of the enemy to quench the lamp of inspiration, and plunge the soul into the thick darkness of infidelity and atheism. We believe there is an amount of rationalism in the professing Church perfectly appalling to contemplate. Divine revelation is being gradually lowered from its lofty position, and human reason exalted; and this is the very germ of infidelity. True, it clothes itself in very attractive robes. It adopts very high-sounding and imposing language. It talks of "freedom of thought"—" liberty of opinion"—" breadth of mind"—" progress"—"cultivated taste"—" dispassionate investigation."

It adopts a most withering style and assumes an attitude of sovereign contempt when speaking of " old prejudices"—" old school notions"—"narrow-mindedness"—"men of one idea," and such like.

But, we may depend upon it, the one aim of the enemy is to set aside the authority of the word of God, and he cares not by what agency he gains his end. This is very serious; and we greatly fear that Christians are not fully alive to its seriousness. Whether we look at the religion or the education of the country, we observe a fixed purpose to set aside the Bible—a settled determination, not only to cast it down from its excellency, but to fling it completely into the shade.

Nor is it merely a question of the hostility of open and avowed infidels; that we can understand and account for. But we must confess our inability to understand the half-heartedness and indifference of many who occupy a high position in evangelical circles. The discussion of the great question of National Education has made manifest a most deplorable amount of weakness in quarters where we should least have looked for it. It is being made sadly apparent that the word of God has a very slender hold of the minds of professing Christians. Only think of a suggestion recently offered, that the Bible might at least get, in our National Schools, the place of a Hebrew classic!

Reader, what say you to this? Are you prepared to see the divine Volume—God's inspired Book—degraded into a mere classic, and placed alongside of Homer, Horace, and Virgil? We fondly trust not. We would fain believe that every reader of our little serial would shrink with horror from such a proposal. Nevertheless, we feel called upon to sound a note of alarm in the ears of our dear fellow Christians everywhere, and we entreat them not to disregard it We want to see them thoroughly roused to a sense of the true state of the case—so roused that they may be led to cry earnestly to the great Head of the Church that He would he graciously pleased to raise up and send forth men full of the Holy Ghost and of power—full of faith and holy zeal—men permeated by solid belief in the plenary inspiration of holy scripture. These, we are persuaded, are the men for the present crisis. May God supply them!

Three Precious Gifts

" I give unto my sheep eternal life, and they shall never perish." John 10

" The gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord" Rom. 6

" He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." John 8

" Christ shall give thee light." Eph. 5

" Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." John 8:6.

" Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free."

The scriptures quoted above—and they are but a few of the many that might be adduced—teach us, very distinctly, that there are three things bestowed upon every soul that, through grace, simply and truly and heartily believes in Jesus, and these are "Life"—"Light"—and '* Liberty"—three most precious gifts, surely—gifts in comparison with which all earthly riches, pleasures and distinctions are but as the small dust of the balance.

But there are very many who ought to be in the full and settled enjoyment of these immense privileges who actually do not know that they possess them at all, and consider it the height of presumption for any soul to think of possessing them. There are many sincere and earnest souls—truly converted persons—children of God who, through bad teaching, self-occupation or legality, are thoroughly in the dark as to the very elements of Christianity—the simplest truths of the gospel. The dark atmosphere which enwraps the whole of Christendom, so obscures the light of divine truth that they really do not know where they are or what they have got. In place of life, light and liberty, they are practically in the shadow of death, in darkness and bondage. They are robbed of those three precious gifts which God, in the fullness and riches of His grace, liberally bestows upon all who believe on the name of His only-begotten Son.

Now, it is for the special purpose of helping that large and interesting class of persons who are thus robbed and spoiled, that we have penned the few inspired sentences at the head of this paper; and we affectionately entreat of such to give earnest heed to them. We are not, now, going to expound them; nor yet to enter upon a full statement of the doctrines indicated in them. Our object is rather to exhort than to expound. We want—yea, we long to see all the dear children of God in the full enjoyment of the things which are freely given to them of God in Christ.

Let all such, then, hear what our Lord Christ saith, "I give unto my sheep eternal life." "Ah! yes," some exercised soul may say; " I quite see that all Christ's sheep have eternal life; but my great, my sore—my soul-crushing difficulty is to know that I am a sheep of Christ. If I only knew that, I should count myself happy indeed."

Now this, though no doubt the language of hundreds, is a mistake. It is beginning at the wrong end. It is putting self and its feelings before Christ and His word; and, most surely, as long as any one is doing this, he must be in doubt and darkness. It is utterly impossible it can be otherwise. If it is something about myself I am called to feel or believe, in order to be saved, then, assuredly, I never can have the settled knowledge or assurance of salvation. I must have something entirely outside and independent of myself—something divinely solid—something eternally stable—some settled and absolute truth—something true in itself, apart from all my thoughts and feelings respecting it—in short I must have God's own revelation to rest upon, or I never can know what abiding peace really is. It is the eternal truth of God, and that alone, which forms the real basis of the soul's peace—a basis which not all the powers of earth and hell, men and devils can ever disturb. It is by believing in Christ, and not by feeling or believing something about myself, that I get eternal life. He that believeth on the Son of God hath eternal life.

Anxious reader, do ponder this. It is of the very deepest moment. It concerns the peace and rest of your soul. We would call your earnest attention to the weighty fact that what you are called upon to believe is not something about yourself, but something about Christ. " Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me hath everlasting life." (John 6:47.) Do you simply and heartily believe in Jesus? Do you confide in Him? Are you thoroughly satisfied with Him? If so you have eternal life, and you should, from this moment, know it and rejoice in it. Our Lord does not say, "He that feeleth he is one of my sheep shall have eternal life." Nothing of the kind—nothing like it—nothing approaching to it. " He that believeth on me." So also, in that well-known passage in John 5 " Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word and believeth on him that sent me hath everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but is passed from death unto life."

Can aught be plainer than this? Every one who hears the word of Jesus, and believes in the One who sent Him, is the happy possessor of eternal life, and shall never come into judgment. Hence it follows that if we have not got eternal life, we do not believe on the Son of God, we have not heard His word, do not believe in God at all. Thus it stands if we are to be governed by the veritable teaching and authority of our Lord Christ. Every true believer in Jesus hath eternal life; and every one who has not eternal life is an unbeliever. So speaks the word of the living God.

But the believer should know what he possesses. Of what use or value could it be for any one to be left a large fortune in Canada, if he did not know anything about it? God would have us to know what He has freely given to us in Christ. The life is in Christ, so he that hath Christ hath the life, and he who hath not life hath not Christ. " God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son." Precious, all important word!

Nor is it otherwise with respect to the second of our " three precious gifts." As we get " life" so we get " light"—in Christ. " He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." God would not give us life and leave us in the dark. This would not be like Him. He has given us His Son; and, believing in Him, we get life; and, following Him, we get light—the light of life. Beauteous words! Words full of divine power! Enfranchising words for the soul that has been groping in darkness and the shadow of death I "The darkness is past, and the true light now shineth;" and the proper sphere for the life which we now possess is the light in which we are called and privileged to walk. The darkness is past, the shadows are gone; the clouds are rolled away; the dim twilight has given place to the full orbed light of life streaming down into our souls, and upon our path, and enabling us to judge ourselves and our surroundings—to judge everything according to the true light that now shineth within, upon, and around us—shineth from the Father—shineth in the Son—shineth in the power of the Holy Ghost—shineth on the page of inspiration.

Finally, it follows, of blessed necessity, that as we get " life" and " light," so we get" liberty." It is all in Christ. He quickens; He enlightens; He emancipates; yea, more, He is our life, our light, our liberty. Blessed, throughout all ages, be His peerless name! " If the Son shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed." Surely, it must be so. He would not give us life and leave us in the dark. He would not give us life and leave us in bondage or slavery. No, no; such is not His way. He sets us divinely and eternally free—free from guilt and condemnation—free from the dread of wrath and judgment to come—free from the fear of death—-free from the present power of sin—quite as free as from its future consequences.

May the reader lay hold of these things in simple, childlike faith, and join us in a note of fervent praise to the Giver of these " Three precious gifts."

The Two Altars

(Exod. 20:24-26.)

" An altar of earth thou shalt make unto me, and shalt sacrifice thereon thy burnt offerings, and thy peace offerings, thy sheep, and thine oxen: hi all places where I record my name I will come unto thee, and I will bless thee."

If aught could enhance the value, or add to the interest of this passage of scripture, it is the context in which it stands. To find such words at the close of Exod. 20 is something which must strike the thoughtful reader. In the opening of this chapter, we find God speaking from the top of Mount Sinai, and laying down the law as to man's duty toward God and his duty toward his neighbor. This law is published amid thunderings, blackness, darkness, and tempest. " Thou shalt do this;" and " thou shalt not do that." Such arc the terms ha which God speaks from the top of the fiery mount. Thus is He compelled to erect around Himself, and around His rights, certain barriers, in order to keep man off. And, in the same way, has man to be kept from infringing the rights of his follow.

Thus much as to the opening of Exod. 20 There are no such words here as, "I will come unto thee." Quito the reverse. The word was, " Beware lest thou come unto me." (See Exod. 19:12, 24.) It was impossible for man to get to God by way of law. The barriers that were placed around that palpable mount were insuperable to man. " By works of law shall no man living be justified." Under the law there is no possible way of access to God. "Keep off" is the stern utterance of the entire legal system—the expression of the very spirit and genius of the whole Mosaic economy. Nearness and liberty are unknown under the law, and cannot possibly be enjoyed by any one on legal ground.

Hence, then, we may safely say—and we say it with reverence—Jehovah was not at home on the top of mount Sinai. It was not natural to Him to surround Himself with harriers. He was, as it were, forced into the position, by the legality of the human heart. Israel had taken upon them to say, " All that the Lord hath spoken we will do." (Exod. 19:8.) It was this that caused Jehovah to place Himself at a distance in order that man might be tested, and the offense might abound. He bad just said to the people, " Ye have seen what I did unto the Egyptians, and how I bare you on eagles' wings, and brought you unto myself. Now, therefore, if ye will obey my voice indeed, and keep my covenant, then ye shall be a peculiar treasure unto me above all people: for all the earth is mine."

To what "covenant" does He here refer? To the covenant made with Abraham—the covenant of grace. There was nothing of man's doing in tins covenant. It set forth what God would do for Abraham and his seed—what He would give them, and what He would be to them. It was on the ground of this covenant that Jehovah could say to Israel, "I have brought you unto myself." But the very moment that Israel undertook to say, " All that the Lord hath spoken we will do," we hear the command issued to " set bounds about the mount," that the people might be put at a distance.

However, as we have said, all this was not according to the loving heart of the God of Israel. It did not suit His nature and character to place Himself at a distance from His people. They had compelled Him to retire within the narrow enclosures of mount Sinai, and to surround Himself with clouds and darkness, thunderings, lightnings, and tempest. Man had undertaken to do, and he must be put to the test. " The law entered that the offense might abound." And again, " By the law is the knowledge of sin."

But it is not our intention, hi this short article, to dwell upon the subject of "the law." We have merely referred to it in order to bring out the striking contrast between the opening and the close of Exod. 20 It would seem as though God were in haste to come down from the top of that dreadful mountain in order to meet man at " an altar of earth"—the place of grace—the place where man's doings are displaced by God's. " An altar of earth thou shalt make unto me, and shalt sacrifice thereon thy burnt offerings, and thy peace offerings, thy sheep, and thine oxen: in all places where I record my name, 1 will come auto thee, and I will bless thee."

What a contrast! It is as though He had said to them, " You cannot come to me, if I remain on the top of this mountain; but I will come unto you. If I remain here, I must curse you; but I will meet you at an altar of earth and bless you." Blessed be His Name, He delights not in cursing; and hence He would not record His Name on Mount Sinai, the place of distance, and darkness, where He could not come unto His people and bless them.

How blessedly all this tells out what God is! This teaching about the altar is like a ray of divine light piercing through the gloom which surrounded Mount Sinai, and shining on the spot where God would record His Name, and where He could meet His people in all the fullness of blessing.

And let the reader note the character of the offerings referred to in verse 24. We have " burnt offerings and peace offerings." Not a word about sin offerings and trespass offerings. Why is this? Surely this is the very place in which we should expect to find these latter introduced. But no. We have the burnt offering—the type of Christ surrendering Himself, in life and in death, to do the will of God; and we have the peace offering—the type of Christ as the object on which the worshipper feeds in communion with God. And not a word about the sin offering or trespass offering. Why? Is it that these are not needed? Far be the thought! They He at the very foundation of that altar where God and the worshipper meet. The sin offering is the type of Christ bearing the judgment of God against sin. The trespass offering is the type of Christ bearing our sins in His own body on the tree. These, we repeat, form the foundation of all worship. But they are omitted in Exod. 20:24, because we have here the nature and character of the worship in which God delights—a worship in which the soul is occupied with Christ, in the very highest aspect of His Person and work; for this is what we have in the burnt offering, wherein Christ is seen making atonement, not merely according to our need, but according to the claims of God—not merely according to the measure of the hatefulness of sin, but according to the measure of the preciousness of Christ to the heart of God.

What a striking contrast, then, between the opening and closing hues of Exod. 20! What lessons are here for our hearts! What a rebuke to all our legal tendencies! We are all prone to be occupied with our doings, in some shape or form. Legality is natural to our hearts; and, let us remember, it was this that forced Jehovah—to speak after the manner of men—to take up the position hi which we find Him in Exod. 19 and xx. Abraham did not know God in such a position. It was not as a lawgiver that God revealed Himself to the father of the faithful; but as a God of grace, as a God of promise. There were no thunderings and lightnings, no blackness, darkness, and tempest, surrounding the Blessed One when He appeared unto Abraham in Ur of the Chaldees; nor yet when He partook of his hospitality in the plains of Mamre. It was ever God's delight to have His people near Him, enjoying the precious fruits of His grace, and not afar off, reaping the bitter fruits of their works. This latter was simply the result of man's legal utterance, "All that the Lord hath spoken we will do." Up to the fatal moment in the which these words were spoken, God had been speaking and acting in the same unqualified grace toward the seed of Abraham, as He had toward that favored patriarch himself. But when once Israel undertook to do, it was needful to put them thoroughly to the test; and this was done by the law.

But, it may be asked, was it not always God's purpose to give the law? Was it not necessary? Is it not designed to be the abiding rule of man's conduct—the statement of his duty to God and man—the divine summary and embodiment of his righteousness? To all this we reply, Most surely God knew from the beginning what He would do; and moreover, He, in His infinite wisdom, overruled man's legal folly, and made use of the law to raise the great question of righteousness, and prove whether it was possible for man to work out a righteousness which could be accepted. But what was the result? Did man ever get righteousness by keeping the ten commandments? Never. " By the deeds of the law shall no flesh be justified in his sight, for by law is the knowledge of sin." (Rom. 3:20.) And again, " For as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse: for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them. But that no man is justified by the law in the sight of God, it is evident: for the just shall live by faith." Gal. 3:10, 11.

What, then, was the object of the law? Why was it given? And what was its effect? " The law entered that the offense might abound." (Rom. 5:20.) "Wherefore then serveth the law? It was added because of transgressions." (Gal. 3:19.) " The law worketh wrath." Rom. 4:15.

Thus scripture answers our three questions in the plainest possible manner; and not only so, hut it settles the entire law question in such a way as to remove every difficulty and every cloud from the mind that will only submit absolutely to the authority of the word.

However, when we sat down to pen this brief article, we had no thought whatever of entering on the domain of theology. It was merely our purpose to present to the heart and mind of the reader the striking lesson taught by the two altars in Exod. 20—the altar of earth and the altar of hewn stone. In the former, we have the very spirit of the dispensation of grace; in the latter, the spirit of the dispensation of law. God wanted man to he near Him; and therefore He would have an altar of earth. In other words, man was to approach God without any efforts or doings of his own. " If thou wilt make me an altar of stone, thou shalt not build it of hewn stone [or, as the margin reads, " build them with hewing"]: for if thou lift up thy tool upon it, thou hast polluted it. Neither shalt thou go up by steps unto mine altar, that thy nakedness be not discovered thereon."

Oh! that men would only consider these things! How little are they understood! Man will be doing. He will lift up his tool in the building of his altar; and the result is, pollution. He will ascend by steps; and the result is, discovered nakedness. Thus it is, and thus it must be, because man is a sinner, and his very best works can only issue in pollution and nakedness.

But one thing is certain, God does not record His Name in any place where man's doings are set up as the basis of worship. This truth shines with heavenly luster on every page of the sacred Volume; and it shines where we should least of all have expected to find it; namely, at the close of Exod. 20 It is something perfectly wonderful, amid the thunderings of Mount Sinai, to catch such heavenly accents as these, " In all places where I record my name / trill come unto thee, and / will bless thee." These are words of purest grace—words flowing from the very heart of God—words expressing the very nature and character of God. " I will come unto thee." Precious words! May they sink down into our hearts and there abide! May it be our aim and object ever to be found worshipping in that place where God records His Name, and where, instead of the nakedness and pollution which ever mark the efforts of man, we have the infinite preciousness of the grace of God, and the fullness and excellency of Christ in His Person and work!

Two Impossibles: Part 1

There are few who have set out to follow the Lord Jesus who have not, at some time or other, gone through painful exercise of heart in connection with the opening verses of Heb. 6 And while, in the long run, they have had no reason to regret the exercise, yet it is always needful to distinguish between the Spirit's using a scripture to search, and Satan's abusing it to stumble us. Searching is good for us. It is most healthful. We all need it, and we have to be thankful when we get it, we are so prone to be light and superficial, and to retire from anything that probes the conscience.

Still, we have not the slightest doubt that many true and earnest souls, many to whom Heb. 6:4-6 has no application whatever, have been stumbled and discouraged through not understanding the true force and bearing of the passage. It is to help such that we pen the following lines, for we can truly say there is no work in which we have a more intense interest than in taking up the stumbling-blocks out of the way of God's beloved people. We feel most fully assured it is work which He delights to have done, inasmuch as He has given express commandment to His servants to do it. We have just to take care lest, in our desire to remove the stumbling-blocks, we should in any wise disturb the landmarks. May the blessed Spirit, then, graciously help us to a right understanding of this sadly misunderstood passage of holy scripture!

Our special business, just now, is to inquire who are they of whom the inspired writer speaks in verses 4-6—those of whom he declares, " It is impossible to renew them again to repentance?" A correct answer to this question will remove much, if not all, of the difficulty felt in respect to this portion of the Epistle to the Hebrews; and in reaching this answer there are two things to be borne in mind—first, that in verses 1 and 2, there is not a single feature belonging to Christianity as distinct from Judaism; secondly, that in verses 4 and 5 there is not a single expression that rises to the height of the new birth, or the sealing of the Spirit.

Let us quote the apostle's words: " Therefore, leaving the principles of the doctrine of Christ," or, as the margin reads it, " The word of the beginning of Christ, let us go on to perfection; not laying again the foundation of repentance from dead works, and of faith toward God, of the doctrine of baptisms [or washings], and of laying on of hands, and of resurrection of the dead, and of eternal judgment."

Now it must be plain to the reader that the apostle could never exhort those professing christian Hebrews to " leave" anything belonging to Christianity. There is not a single fact in that glorious economy, from first to last—not a single stone in that glorious superstructure, from foundation to topstone—not a single principle in that magnificent system, from beginning to end—that we could afford to leave or dispense with for a moment. For what, let us ask, is the grand foundation of Christianity? The cross. And what are its two characteristic facts? A Man glorified in heaven, and God dwelling in man on the earth. Could we leave these? God forbid! To whom, or to what, should we go? It is impossible that we could leave or give up a single fact, feature, or principle of our glorious Christianity.

What, then, have we got in Heb. 6:1, 2? Simply those elements of truth contained in the Jewish system which, in so far as they possessed any permanent value, are reproduced in Christianity; but, as a system, were to be abandoned forever. Where is there a word peculiar to Christianity in this passage? Can we not see at a glance that the apostle has Judaism before his mind? It is this he exhorts his brethren to leave, and to go on to Christianity, which he here calls " perfection."

It is a very commonly received idea that the words, "Let us go on to perfection," refer to our leaving the earlier stages of the divine life, and getting on to the higher. This we believe to be a total mistake. As to what is called " the higher christian life," there is in reality no such thing. If there be a higher life, there must be a lower one; but we know, blessed be God, that Christ is our life, the life of each, the life of all; and there cannot be anything higher than that. The merest babe in Christ has as high a life as the most matured and profoundly taught member of the church of God.

No doubt there is progress in the divine life, growth in grace, faith growing exceedingly. All this we own most fully, and would charge ourselves to seek after most earnestly. But it is not the subject of Heb. 6:1, 2. It is not a question of going from one form in the school of Christ to another, but of leaving the school of Moses to enter fully, heartily, and intelligently, the school of Christ. It is not a question of going from one stage of christian life to another, but of abandoning Judaism to go on to Christianity. We could not abandon a single atom of Christianity without abandoning Christ Himself, for He is the foundation, the source, the center, the spring of it all.

But the reader may feel disposed to ask, Have we not got "repentance, faith, resurrection, and eternal judgment" in Heb. 6:1, 2? True, but only as elements of the Jewish system. There is not a word about "faith in our Lord Jesus Christ"—not a word about Christ at all; it is simply Judaism, to which some of the Hebrew professors were in danger of returning, but from which the apostle earnestly urges them to go on.

Let us now turn for a moment to verses 4, 5. " For it is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come [of the coming age], if they shall fall away, to renew them again unto repentance."

Now the reader will notice that, as in verses 1, 2, we have not a single clause specially characteristic of Christianity; so, in verses 4, 5, we have not a single clause that rises to the height of the new birth, or the sealing of the Holy Ghost. A person might be all that is here spoken of, and yet never have been born again, • Resurrection, as seen in Christianity, is not merely " resurrection of the dead;" but," resurrection from among the dead."

never sealed by the Holy Ghost. How many thousands have been " enlightened" by the gospel, without being converted by it! Wherever the gospel has been preached, wherever the Bible has been received and read, an enlightening influence has gone forth, altogether irrespective of any saving work wrought in souls. Look, for example, at the nations of Europe since the Reformation. In all those countries that have received the Bible, we see the moral effect produced in the way of intelligence, civilization, and refinement, apart altogether from the question of the conversion of individual souls. On the other hand, those countries which have refused the Bible exhibit the melancholy results of ignorance, moral darkness, and degradation. In a word, there may be enlightenment of the understanding without any divine work in the conscience or in the heart.

But what means the * é tasting the heavenly gift?" Does not this imply the new birth? By no means. Many may have gotten a taste of the new, the heavenly, things set forth in the glorious gospel of God, and yet never have passed from death unto life, never have been broken down before God, about their sins—never have received Christ into their hearts. Tasting of the heavenly gift, and passing by new birth into the heavenly kingdom, are totally different things.

So also many were made "partakers (μετοχους) of the Holy Ghost," so as to speak with tongues, prophesy, and the like, who nevertheless were never born of the Spirit. When the Holy Ghost came down on the day of Pentecost, His presence pervaded the whole assembly. His power was felt by all, converted or unconverted. The word rendered " partakers" does not express intelligent fellowship, and this makes it all the more clear that there is not the slightest thought of new birth or sealing.

Further, as to "tasting the good word of God," do we not all know too well that unconverted people can, in a certain sense, enjoy the word of God, and have a measure of delight in hearing a full, free, gospel preached? Have we not often heard persons who furnished no sort of evidence of divine life speaking, in highly appreciative terms, of what they called the savory doctrines of grace? There is a wide and very material difference indeed between a person tasting the good word of God, and the word of God entering the soul, in living, quickening, convicting, and converting power.

Finally, a person might taste " the power of the coming age"—the age when Messiah will set up His kingdom—he might heal diseases, and cast out devils—he might take up serpents, and drink poison—he might speak with tongues: he might do all these things, and yet never have been born again. " Thus"—as a recent writer has solemnly and forcibly put it—" we may fairly give the fullest force to every one of these expressions. Yet, write them out ever so largely, they fall short both of the new birth and of sealing with the Holy Ghost. There is everything, one may say, save inward spiritual life in Christ, or the indwelling seal of it. That is to say"—and, oh, may it be deeply pondered in this day of intellectual knowledge and flippant profession!—"one may have the very highest endowments and privileges, in the way both of meeting the mind, and also of exterior power; and yet all may be given up, and the man become so much the keener enemy of Christ. Indeed such is the natural result. It had been the mournful fact as to some. They had fallen away. Hence renewal to repentance is an impossibility"—declared to be so by the authoritative and conclusive testimony of the Holy Ghost—"seeing they crucify' to themselves the Son of God, and put him to an open shame."

"Why impossible? The case supposed is"—not any one who ever possessed a single spark of divine life in his soul; no, nor yet any one with the very feeblest desire after Christ, or one atom of true repentance or desire to flee from the wrath to come, but that—" of persons, after the richest proof and privilege, turning aside apostates from Christ, in order to take up Judaism once more. As long as that course is pursued, repentance there cannot be. Supposing a man had been the adversary of Messiah here below'י—as, for example, Paul himself, the very writer of the epistle—" there was still the opening for him of grace from on high. It was possible that the very man that had slighted Christ here below, might have his eyes opened to see and receive Christ above; but this abandoned, there is no fresh condition in which He could be presented to men. Those who rejected Christ, in the fullness of His grace, and in the height of His glory in which God had set Him as Man before them"—Christ the object of fourfold testimony, His works, the Father, John the Baptist, and Moses. (John 5)—י י Those that rejected Him, not merely on earth, but in heaven"—as attested by the Holy Ghost sent down from the ascended and glorified Man on the throne of the Majesty in the heavens—" what was there to fall back upon? What possible means to bring them to repentance after that? There is none. What is there but Christ coming in judgment?"*

Surely there is, and can be, nothing else. For one who, from amid the full blaze of gospel light and privilege, could deliberately go back to the darkness of Judaism, there remains nothing but hopeless impenitence, hardness of heart, judicial blindness, and eternal judgment.

It is not, be it carefully observed, a child of God falling into sin, and getting at a distance from God. Such an one will, most surely, be brought back, and restored, though it may be through sore affliction under the chastening hand of God. It is not an anxious soul earnestly seeking the way of life and peace. It is not the case of a poor soul ignorant and out of^ the way. To none of these does the " impossible" of Hebrews vi. 4 apply. There is not a single anxious, earnest, soul beneath the canopy of heaven whose case is impossible. There is just one case that approaches awfully near to Heb. 6:4, and that is one who has gone on sinning against light, refusing to act on the plain word of God, resisting the truth—knowingly and deliberately resisting—because of the consequences of acting upon it.

This is indeed most solemn. No one can take it upon him to say at what depths of darkness, blindness, and hardness of heart, a case of this kind may arrive. It is a terrible thing to trifle with light, and to go on with what we: know to be wrong, because of worldly advantage, to please friends, to avoid persecution and trial, or for any reason whatsoever. " Give glory to the Lord your God, before he cause darkness, and before your feet stumble on the dark mountains, and while ye look for light, he turn it into the shadow of death, and make it gross darkness." Jer. 13:16.

Having sounded this warning note for any whose case may need it, we close this part of our subject by presenting to any troubled soul whose eye may scan these lines, that precious word at the very end of the inspired volume—a word issuing forth from the very heart of God—the heart of Christ—" Whosoever will, let him take the water of life FREELY."

(to be continued, if the Lord will)

Two Impossibles: Part 2

In reading the Epistle to the Hebrews, we can hardly fail to notice the way in which the most solemn words of warning stand side by side with words of deepest comfort and consolation. Thus, for example, chapter iv. opens with, "Let us therefore fear;" and closes with, " Let us therefore come boldly" When we think of who we are, what we are, and where we are, we have reason to fear. But when we think of God—His grace, His goodness, His tender mercy, His faithfulness—we may cherish the most fearless confidence. When we think of the world, with all its dangers, temptations, and snares, we may well be on our guard. But when we think of "the throne of grace," with its exhaustless provisions, and of our most merciful, faithful, and sympathizing High Priest, we can draw nigh with holy boldness, and find an ample supply to meet our deepest need.

So also, in chapter x., we have the same striking contrast—the warning voice, and the sweet accents of comfort and encouragement. Hearken to the former. " If we sin willfully after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries. He that despised Moses' law died without mercy under two or three witnesses; of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace? For we know him that hath said, Vengeance belongeth unto me, I will recompense, saith the Lord. And again, The Lord will judge his people. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God."

How awfully solemn is all this! How searching! Should we seek to blunt the edge of the warning? God forbid! We should only see that it has its true direction, its proper application. Can it ever touch an anxious inquirer, or a true-hearted, earnest, follower of Christ? Assuredly not, save indeed that it may deepen the earnestness of the one, and quicken the pace of the other. For only see, reader, how close the word of comfort and encouragement stands to the awful note of warning and admonition. " But call to remembrance the former days, in which, after ye were illuminated, ye endured a great fight of afflictions, partly whilst ye were made a gazing-stock, both by reproaches and afflictions; and partly whilst ye became companions of them that were so used. For ye had compassion of me in my bonds, and took joyfully the spoiling of your goods, knowing in yourselves that ye have in heaven a better and an enduring substance. Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward. For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise. For yet a little while, and he that shall come will come, and will not tarry. Now the just shall live by faith; but if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him. But we are not of them that draw back unto perdition, but of them that believe to the saving of the soul."

Thus we see how the inspiring Spirit connects, in this epistle, the most precious consolation with the most solemn warning. Both are needed, and therefore both are given; and it will be our wisdom to seek to profit by both. We need never be afraid to trust scripture. If we find a difficulty, in place of puzzling over it, let us quietly wait on God for further light, meanwhile calmly resting in the assurance that no one part of the word of God can ever contradict another. All is in the most perfect harmony; the apparent discrepancies are entirely owing to our ignorance; and hence, instead of putting forth our gratuitous efforts to reconcile things, we should just allow each passage of scripture to come home in all its moral force to the heart and conscience, and produce its divinely appointed result in the formation of our character. Thus, when we read such words as these, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand. My Father which gave them me is greater than all; and no one is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand. I and my Father are one," it is our sweet privilege to take them in, in all their divine simplicity and heavenly clearness, and rest in them in calm confidence. There is no difficulty, no obscurity, no vagueness about them. All Christ's sheep are as safe as He can make them, as safe as He is Himself. The hand that would touch them must touch Him. They are divinely and eternally secure. Persons may imagine, or profess themselves to be, His sheep who are not so in reality; they may fall away from their mere profession, bring much reproach on the cause of Christ, cause the way of truth to be evil spoken of, and lay a stumbling-block in the way of honest inquirers, by leading them to think that true Christians can fall away, and be lost. All this may be true, but it leaves wholly untouched the precious and most comforting words of our good and faithful Shepherd, that His sheep have eternal life, and shall never—can never, perish. No passage of holy scripture can, by any possibility, contradict the plain statement of our Lord.

But then there are other passages designed to search the conscience, to make us watchful, to produce holy circumspection in our ways, to lead us to judge ourselves, to superinduce self-denial. Take the following weighty and most searching scripture: " Know ye not that they which run in a race, run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. And every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible. I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air; but I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection; lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway." 1 Cor. 9:24-27.

Now, will any one attempt to place 1 Cor. 9 in opposition to John 10? Far be the thought! What then? Why we are simply to receive both, in all their divine force, and allow them to act upon us according to the divine purpose in giving them to us—the latter on our hearts, for comfort and consolation; the former on our consciences, for admonition and warning. How terrible it would be for any one to say or to think that, because he is a sheep of Christ, he may walk in self-indulgence—because he can never perish, he need not seek to keep his body under—because nothing can separate him from the love of Christ, he may give a loose rein to his desires! Surely such an one would afford most melancholy evidence that he is anything but a sheep of the flock of Christ.

But we must return to Heb. 6, and dwell for a moment upon our second "Impossible." The first, as we have seen, had respect to man; the second has respect to God. Man, with the very highest advantages, with the very rarest privileges, with the most powerful array of evidence, will turn his back upon God and Christ; he will deliberately apostatize from Christianity, give up the truth of God, go back into darkness, and plunge into a condition, from which the Holy Ghost declares "it is impossible to renew him again to repentance."

But, as usual, in this marvelous epistle, the " strong consolation" stands in close and most gracious proximity to the awful warning. And, blessed be God, this same strong consolation is designed for us in connection with the very smallest measure of living faith in the word of God. It is not a question of great attainments in knowledge, experience, or devotedness; no, it is simply a matter of having even that measure and character of faith, and earnestness, typified by the man-slayer as he flew to the city of refuge to escape the avenger of blood. How precious is this for every true and earnest soul! The very feeblest spark of divinely-given faith secures eternal life, strong consolation, and everlasting glory, because '' it is impossible for God to lie." He cannot, and will not, deny Himself, blessed forever be His name! He has pledged His word, and added His oath, the "two immutable things;" and where is the power, human or diabolical, that can touch these two things?

We close with a passage from a volume referred to in our paper for November.

"Another point of interest which may be remarked here (in Heb. 6) is the intimation at the end, compared with the beginning, of the chapter. We have seen the highest external privileges"—and they were merely external—" not only the mind of man, as far as it could, enjoying the truth, but the power of the Holy Ghost making the man, at any rate, an instrument of power"—not a subject of grace—" even though it be to his own shame and deeper condemnation afterward. In short, man may have the utmost conceivable advantage, and the greatest external power, even of the Spirit of God Himself, and yet all come to nothing."

How solemnizing! "But the very same chapter, which affirms and warns of the possible failure of every advantage, shows us the weakest faith that the whole New Testament describes coming into the secure possession of the best blessings of grace." How consolatory! How truly encouraging! " Who but God could have dictated that this same chapter should depict the weakest faith that the New Testament ever acknowledges? What can look feebler, what more desperately pressed, than a man fleeing for refuge? It is not a soul as coming to Jesus; it is not as one whom the Lord meets, and blesses on the spot; but here is a man hard pushed, fleeing for very life (evidently a figure drawn from the man-slayer fleeing from the avenger of blood), yet eternally saved and blessed according to the acceptance of Christ"—the very lowest character of faith met by the very fullest, richest, and most permanent blessing!

" There was no reality found in the persons referred to in verses 4 and 5, though so highly favored; and hence it was, as there was no conscience before God, no sense of sin, no cleaving to Christ, that everything came to naught. But here, in the end of the chapter, there is the fruit of faith, feeble indeed, and sorely tried, but in the light that appreciates the judgment of God against sin. Hence, although it be only fleeing in an agony of soul for refuge, what is it that God gives to one in such a state? Strong consolation, and that which enters within the veil. Impossible that the Son should be shaken from His place on the throne of God. And it is as impossible that the very least and weakest believer should come to any hurt whatever! The weakest of saints more than conqueror is."

Well may we exclaim, in view of all this surpassing grace, " Hallelujah!” Beloved christian reader, may our whole life be spent in praising our ever blessed and most gracious Savior-God!

The Two Links: Part 1

There are two very important links in Christianity which we should seek to understand, namely, first, the link of everlasting life; and, secondly, the link of personal communion. These links, being perfectly distinct, should never be confounded; and, being intimately connected, should never be separated. The former is the ground of our security; the latter, the secret spring of our enjoyment and he source of all our fruitfulness. That can never be broken; this may be snapped by a thousand things.

Seeing, then, that these links are of such immense importance, let us reverently and prayerfully enter upon the examination of them in the divine light of inspiration.

And, first, then, as to the precious link of everlasting life, we cannot possibly do better than quote a few plain passages of scripture setting forth whence it comes, what it is, when, and how, it is formed.

But, first of all, it must be distinctly borne in mind that man, in his natural state, knows nothing of this link, " That which is born of the flesh is flesh." There may be much that is truly amiable, great nobility of character, great generosity, strict integrity; but there is no eternal life. The first link is unknown. It matters not how you cultivate and elevate nature, you cannot, by any possibility, form the grand link of everlasting life. You may make it moral, learned, religious, but so long as it is mere nature, there is no eternal life. You may select all the very finest moral virtues, and concentrate them in one individual, and that individual may never have felt so much as a single pulsation of everlasting life. It is not that these virtues and qualities are not good and desirable in themselves; no one in his senses would question that. Whatever is morally good in nature is to be estimated at its proper value. No one would think, for a moment, of placing a sober, industrious, amiable, well-principled man on a level with a drunken, idle, cross-grained spendthrift. Looked at from a social and moral point of view, there is, obviously, a wide and very material difference. But, be it clearly understood, and well-remembered, that we can never by the finest virtues and noblest qualities of the old creation purchase a place in the new; we can never by all the excellencies of the first Adam, even if concentrated in one individual, establish a title to membership in the Second. The two are totally distinct—the old and the new—the first and the Second. " That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit." " Therefore, if any man be in Christ he is a new creation; old things are passed away; behold all things are become new."

Nothing can be more explicit, nothing more conclusive, than the last quoted passage from the fifth chapter of Second Corinthians. " Old things" of what kind so ever they be, " are passed away." They are not recognized as having any existence in the new creation, wherein, " all things are of God." The old foundation has been completely removed, and new foundations laid in redemption. Nor is there so much as a single particle of the old material worked up into the new. "All things are become new"—"All things are of God." The old creation "bottles" have been flung aside, and redemption bottles set in their stead. The old creation " garment" has been cast away, and the new, the spotless robe of redemption, substituted. In this fair robe man's hand never wove a thread, nor set a stitch. How do we know? Ηow can we speak with such confidence and authority? For the best of all reasons, because the divinely authoritative, and therefore absolutely conclusive voice of holy scripture declares that, in the new creation, " All things are of God." The Lord be praised that it is so! It is this that makes all so secure—that places all so entirely beyond the reach of the enemy's power. He cannot touch anything or anyone in the new creation. Death is the limit of Satan's domain. The grave forms the boundary of his dominion. But the new creation begins at the other side of death—it opens upon our enraptured gaze at heaven's side of that tomb where the Prince of Life lay buried—it pours the brilliant beams of its glories around us in the midst of a scene where death can never enter, where sin and sorrow are unknown, where the hiss of the serpent can never be heard, nor his hateful trail be seen. " All things are of God."

Now, it would remove a host of difficulties and perplexities, and simplify matters amazingly, if this point of the new creation were clearly understood. If we look around on what is called the religious world, or the professing church, what do we see? A large amount of effort to improve man, in his Adamic, his natural, or old creation condition. Philanthropy, science, philosophy, religion, are all brought into play; every species of moral leverage is brought to bear, for the purpose of raising man in the scale of existence. What do men mean when they talk, as they often do, of " elevating the masses? " How far can they go in their operations? To what point can they elevate them? Can they raise them into the new creation? Clearly not, seeing that in that creation all things are of God.

But, further, who, or what, are these " masses " that are sought to be elevated? Are they born of the flesh, or born of the Spirit? Of the flesh confessedly and assuredly. Well, then, " That which is born of the flesh is flesh." You may elevate it as high as you please. You may apply the most powerful lever, and raise it to the very loftiest point attainable. Educate, cultivate, sublimate it as you will. Let science, philosophy, religion (so-called), and philanthropy bring all their resources to bear; and what has been done? You cannot make it spirit—you cannot bring it into the new creation—you cannot form the first grand link of everlasting life. You have done absolutely nothing towards man's best, his spiritual, his eternal interests. You have left him still in his old Adamic state, his old creation circumstances; you have left him in his liabilities, his responsibilities, his sins, his guilt; you have left him exposed to the righteous wrath of a sin-hating God. He may be more cultivated in his guilt, but he is guilty all the while. Cultivation cannot remove guilt; education cannot blot out sins; civilization cannot remove from man's horizon the dark and heavy clouds of death and judgment.

Let us not be misunderstood. We do not want to make little of education or civilization, true philanthropy or true philosophy. We say, distinctly, let them go for what they are really worth, let them be estimated at their true value. We are ready to allow as large a margin as may be demanded, in which to insert all the possible advantages of education, in all its branches; and having done so, we return with accumulated force to our grand thesis, namely, that in " elevating the masses," you are elevating that which has no existence before God, no place in the new creation; and we repeat it, with emphasis, and urge it with energy, that until you get the soul into the new creation, you have done absolutely nothing for it, with respect to eternity, to heaven, and to God. True, you may smooth man's way through this world; you may remove some of the roughness from the highway of human life; you may dandle the flesh in the delusive lap of luxury and ease; all this you may do, and much more; you may wreath man's brow with every species of laurel that ever was won in the various arenas in which men have carried on the competitive struggle for fame; you may adorn his name with all the titles that ever were bestowed by mortal upon his fellow mortal, and after all this, you may leave him in his sins, and exposed to death and eternal damnation. If the first grand link be not formed, the soul is like a vessel broken from her moorings, and driven over the watery waste, without either rudder or compass.

Now, we most earnestly desire to press this point upon the attention of the reader. We deeply feel its immense practical importance. We believe there is hardly any truth to which the devil offers more fierce and constant opposition than the truth of the new creation. He knows well its mighty moral influence, its power to lift the soul up out of present things, to produce deadness to the world, and practical and habitual elevation above the things of time and sense. Hence his efforts to keep people ever engaged in the hopeless work of trying to elevate nature and improve the world. He has no objection to morality, to religion as such, in all its forms. He will even use Christianity itself as a means of improving the old nature. Indeed his masterpiece is to tack on the Christian religion as a "new piece" upon the "old garment" of fallen nature. You may do what you like, provided you leave man in the old creation; for Satan knows full well that so long as you leave him there, you have left him in his clutches. All in the old creation is in the grasp of Satan, and within the full range of his guns. All in the new creation is beyond him. " He that is born of God keepeth himself and that wicked one toucheth him not." It is not said that the believer keepeth himself and that wicked one toucheth him not. The believer is a complex being, having two natures—the old and the new, the flesh and the Spirit, and if he does not watch, " that wicked one" will speedily touch him, upset him, and cut out plenty of sorrowful work for him. But the divine nature, the new creation, cannot be touched, and so long as we walk in the energy of the divine nature, and breathe the atmosphere of the new creation, we are perfectly safe from all the assaults of the enemy.

And, now, let us proceed to inquire how it is we get into the new creation—how we become possessed of the divine nature—how this link of everlasting life is formed. A quotation or two from the word will suffice to open this point to us. " God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Mark these words, reader, observe the connection, " Believeth in him—" Have everlasting life." This is the link—simple faith. Thus it is we pass from the old creation, with all its belongings, into the new creation with all its belongings. This is the precious secret of the new birth—faith wrought in the soul by the grace of God the Holy Ghost—faith that takes God at His word, that sets to its seal that God is true—faith that links the soul with a risen Christ, the Head and beginning of the New Creation.

Take another quotation, " Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that heareth my words, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment; but is passed from death unto life." Here is the link again. " Believeth on me "—" Hath everlasting life." Nothing can be more simple. By natural birth we enter the precincts of the old creation, and become heirs of all that appertained to the first Adam. By spiritual birth, we enter the precincts of the new creation, and become the heirs of all that appertains to the Second Adam. And if it be asked, what is the secret of this great mystery of the spiritual birth? the answer is, "Faith." "He that believeth on me." Hence, if the reader is one who believes in Jesus, according to the language of the above passages, he is in the new creation—he is a possessor of the divine nature—be is linked on to Christ, by a link which is perfectly indissoluble. Such an one can never perish. No power of earth or hell, men or devils can ever snap that link of everlasting life which connects all Christ's members with their risen Head in glory, and with one another.

And let the reader note particularly that, in reference to the link of eternal life, and its formation, we must take God's thoughts in place of our own; we must be governed exclusively by the word of God, and not by our own vain reasonings, foolish imaginings, and ever changing feelings. Moreover, we must be careful not to confound the two links which, though intimately connected, are perfectly distinct. We must not displace them, but leave them in their divine order. The first does not depend upon the second; but the second flows out of the first. The second is as much a link as the first; but it is second, and not first. All the power and malice of Satan cannot snap the first link; the weight of a feather may snap the second. The first link endureth forever; the second may be broken in a moment. The first link owes its permanency to the work of Christ for us, which was finished on the cross, and to the word of God to us, which is settled forever in heaven; the second link depends upon the action of the Holy Ghost in us, which may be, and alas! is, interfered with by a thousand things, in the course of a single day. The former is based upon Christ's victory for us; the latter is based upon the Spirit's victories in us.

Now, it is our firm conviction that thousands get shaken as to the reality and perpetuity of the first link of everlasting life, by reason of failure in the maintenance of the second link of personal communion. Something occurs to snap the latter, and they begin at once to question the existence of the former. This is a mistake; but it only serves to show the immense importance of holy vigilance in our daily walk so that the link of personal communion may not be broken by sin, in thought, word, or deed; or» if it should be broken, of having it instantly restored by self-judgment and confession, founded upon the death and advocacy of Christ. It is an undeniable fact, confirmed by the sad experience of thousands of true saints of God, that when the second link is snapped, it is next to impossible to realize the first. And this, though so vitally important to us, is, in reality, but a secondary thing; for, surely, the suspension of our communion is a small thing when compared with the dishonor done to the cause of Christ, and the grief offered to the Holy Ghost by that which occasioned the suspension.

May the Spirit of God work in us mightily to produce watchfulness, prayer fullness, seriousness, and earnestness; that nothing may occur to interrupt our communion, but that the two links may be understood and enjoyed in their due place and order, to the glory of God by us, the stability of our peace in Him, and the integrity and purity of our walk before Him!

The Two Links: Part 2

In order to unfold, somewhat more fully, the subject of " The two links," we should like to call our reader's attention, for a few moments, to a very important passage in the fifth chapter of the First Epistle to the Corinthians. " For even Christ our passover is slain for us; therefore let us keep the feast." In this brief quotation, we have a wide range of truth presented. We have, first, a great fact stated, " Christ our passover is slain;" and, secondly, an earnest appeal, " Let us keep the feast." In the former, we have the ground of our security, in the latter, the true secret of personal holiness.

Now, here again, we have the two links, in their proper distinctness, and yet in their proper order. We have a sacrifice and a feast, two things quite distinct, but yet intimately connected. The sacrifice is complete; but the feast is to be celebrated. Such is the divine order. The completeness of the sacrifice secures the believer's title, and the celebration of the feast involves the whole of the believer's practical life.

We must be careful not to confound these things. The feast of unleavened bread was founded upon the death of the paschal lamb, and it typified that practical holiness which is to characterize the whole of a Christian's life down here. " Christ is slain." This secures everything as to title. " When I see the blood, I will pass over you." God, as a Judge, was fully met and satisfied by the blood of the lamb. The destroying angel passed through the land of Egypt, at the midnight hour, with the sword of judgment in his hand, and the only means of escape was the sprinkled blood. This was divinely sufficient. God had declared, "When I see the blood, I will pass over." Israel's salvation rested on God's estimate of the blood of the lamb. This is a most precious truth for the soul to dwell upon. Mail's salvation rests upon God's satisfaction. The Lord be praised! " Christ our passover is slain for us." Mark these words, "is slain"—and that, "for 1:3." This settles everything as to the great and all-important question of salvation from judgment and wrath. Thus the precious link of salvation is formed—a link which can never be broken. The link of eternal life, and the link of eternal salvation, are one and the same. The Lord Jesus Christ—the living Savior—the risen Head, maintains, and ever will maintain, this link in unbroken integrity, as fie says, " Because I live, ye shall live also." " 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." " He ever liveth to make intercession for us.''

And, now, a word or two as to the exhortation of the apostle, " Therefore let us keep the feast." Christ keeps us, and we are to keep the feast. He was slain to spread a feast for us, and that feast is a life of personal holiness—practical separation from all evil, Israel's feast was composed of three things, namely, a roasted lamb, bitter herbs, and unleavened bread. Precious ingredients' setting forth, in typical language, first, Christ as having endured the wrath of God for us; secondly, those deep, spiritual exercises of heart which flow from our contemplating the cross; and, thirdly, personal holiness, or practical separation from evil. Such was the feast of God's redeemed; and such is our feast now. Ch! that we may have grace to celebrate it according to its due order! May our loins he girt, our feet shod, and our pilgrim staff in hand.

And be it remembered, it is not a feast celebrated in order to reach a sacrifice; but a sacrifice slain to provide a feast. We must not reverse this order. We are very prone to reverse it, because we are apt to regard God as an exactor, instead of a giver—to make duty the basis of salvation, instead of making salvation the basis of duty.

An Israelite did not put away leaven in order to be saved from the sword of the destroyer, but because he was saved. In other words, there was first the blood-stained lintel, and then, the unleavened bread. These things must not be confounded, neither must they be separated. We are not saved from wrath by unleavened bread, but by a blood-stained lintel; but we can only enjoy the latter as we are diligently and jealously maintaining the former. The two links are ever to stand in their divine order, and in their inseparable connection. Christ Himself infallibly maintains the one; and we, by the grace of His Spirit, are to maintain the other. May He enable us so to do!

The Two Mites

"And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury; and many that were rich cast in much. And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing."

How little did these people know whose eye was watching them as they cast in their offerings! How little did they think of being scanned by One whose eye could penetrate the deepest depths of their hearts and read the motives that actuated them in what they were doing. It may be the ostentatious Pharisee was there, displaying his wealth and making a pompous exhibition of his religiousness. Perhaps, too, the cold formalist was there, dropping, in heartless routine, his stereotyped coin into the treasury. Jesus saw it all—weighed it all—judged it all.

It is well to think on this, on every occasion in the which we are called to contribute to the Lord's cause. Well to remember, as the box or the basket is placed in my hand, that " Jesus is sitting over against the treasury." His holy eye rests, not upon the purse, but upon the heart. He weighs, not the amount, but the motive. If the heart be right, the amount will be right, according to His judgment. Where the heart beats true to His Person, the hand will be open to His cause; of this we may rest assured. All who really love Christ will count it their high and happy privilege to deny themselves in order to contribute to His cause. No doubt, it is most marvelous that He should condescend to ask us so to do. Yet He does so, and it should be our deep and ineffable joy to respond, " according as God has prospered us," ever remembering that He loveth a cheerful giver, because that is precisely what He is Himself, blessed be His holy Name!

However, the point on which we specially meant to dwell, in opening Mark 12 was the act of the poor widow. Amid the crowd of contributors who pressed. forward to cast their offerings into the treasury, there was one who particularly engaged the attention of our blessed Lord. " There came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing."

Now, that was a very small amount indeed, if looked at in a pecuniary point of view. But think of the offerer. She was a " widow "—and a " poor widow "—the very impersonation of all that is desolate, helpless, and lonely, in this world. A widow always gives us the idea of one bereft of every earthly stay and natural prop. " She that is a widow indeed, and desolate, trusteth in God, and continueth in supplications and prayers, night and day."

True, there are many so-called widows who are not of this stamp at all—many who look aught but lonely and desolate. But these are quite abnormal. They are entirely outside the sphere of true widowhood. The Holy Ghost has furnished us with a striking photograph of this class in 1 Tim. 5:11-13.

But the poor widow at the treasury belonged to the class of true widows. She was one according to the mind of Christ. " And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow path cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury. For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living."

Doubtless had these been the days of the public press, the princely offerings of the wealthy would have been paraded in the columns of some newspaper, with flattering allusion to their large amount, while the poor widow and her offering would have been passed over in contemptuous silence.

But our adorable Lord thought differently. The poor widow's two mites outweighed, in His balance, all the offerings put together. It is a comparatively easy thing to give tens, hundreds, and thousands from our accumulated treasures; but it is not easy to deny self of a single luxury or comfort, to say nothing of a positive necessary. But she gave all her living to the house of her God. It was this which threw her into such moral kindredness of spirit with the blessed Lord Himself. He could say, " The zeal of thy house hath eaten me up." And she could say, " The zeal of thy house hath eaten up my living." Thus she was very near to Him. What a privilege!

But, reader, did you ever notice the shape in which she had her living? Why does the Spirit take such care to say " Two mites, which make a farthing?" Why not be content to say, " She threw in a farthing?" Ah! this would never do. It would not have brought out the real point of exquisite beauty—the true touch of whole-hearted devotedness. If she had had it all in one piece, she must have either given all or nothing. Having it in two, she had the option of keeping half for her own living. And truly most of us would judge it extraordinary devotedness to give to the Lord's cause half of all we possessed in the world. But this poor widow had a whole heart for God. This was the point. There was no reserve whatever. Self and its interests were wholly lost sight of, and she flung her whole living into that which to her heart represented the cause of her God. May God grant us something of this spirit!

The Well of Bethlehem

" And David longed, and said, Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate!” Such was the breathing of David's heart—a breathing which met with a speedy and hearty response from three members of that devoted and heroic band which flocked around him in the cave of Adullam. " And the three mighty men brake through the host of the Philistines, and drew water out of the well of Bethlehem, that was by the gate, and took it and brought it to David." There was no command issued. No one in particular was singled out and commissioned to go. There was the simple utterance of the desire, and this it was which afforded the opportunity for genuine affection and true devotedness. Had there been a specific command given to any one, it would merely have afforded an occasion for ready obedience; but the utterance of a desire developed that ardent attachment to the person of David which is so lovely to behold.

And mark the actings of David in this most touching scene: "Nevertheless he would not drink thereof, but poured it out unto the Lord. And he said, Be it far from me, Ο Lord, that I should do this: is not this the blood of the men that went in jeopardy of their lives? Therefore he would not drink of it." It was a sacrifice too costly for any save Jehovah Himself, and hence David would not permit the sweet odor of it to be interrupted in its ascent to the throne of God.

How little did those three mighty men imagine that their act of loving devotedness should be recorded on the eternal page of inspiration, there to be read by untold millions. They never thought of this. Their hearts were set on David, and they counted not their lives dear unto them so that they might gratify him or refresh his spirit. Had they acted to get a name or a place for themselves, it would have robbed their act of all its charms, and consigned it to its merited contempt and oblivion. But no; they loved David. This was the spring of their activity, and they proved that he was more precious to, their hearts than life itself. They forgot all in the one absorbing object of serving David, and the odor of their sacrifice ascended to the throne of God, while the record of their deed shines on the page of inspiration, and shall continue to shine so long as that page endures.

Oh! how we long for something like this in reference to the true David, in this the day of His rejection. We do greatly covet a more intense and self-sacrificing devotedness as the fruit of the constraining love of Christ. It is not, by any means, a question of working for rewards, for a crown or for a place, though we fully believe in the doctrine of rewards. No! the very moment we make rewards our object, we are below the mark. We believe that service rendered with the eye upon the reward would be defective. But then we believe also that every jot or tittle of true service will be rewarded in the day of Christ's glory, and that each servant will get his place in the record, and his niche in the kingdom according to the measure of His personal devotedness, down here. This we hold to be a great practical truth and we press it as such upon the attention of the Christian reader. We must confess we long to see the standard of devotedness greatly raised amongst us, and this can only be effected by having our hearts more entirely consecrated to Christ and His cause. Ο Lord, revive thy work!

What Is a Castaway?

" But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection; lest that, by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway." 1 Cor. 9:27.

This passage has perplexed and troubled many an earnest heart. Many have argued thus, while pondering the above solemn scripture, " If such an one as Paul was uncertain as to the issue of his course, who, then, can be sure?" But was he uncertain as to the issue? By no means. The verse immediately preceding teaches us the very opposite: " I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight 1, not as one that beateth the air" Paul knew quite well how the whole matter was to terminate, so far as he was concerned. He could say, " I know whom (not merely what) I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." (2 Tim. 1:12.) And again, " 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." Rom. 8:38, 39.

These scriptures are amply sufficient to prove that Paul had not so much as a shadow of a doubt as to his eternal security. " I know-" I am persuaded" There is nothing like doubt or uncertainty in such utterances. Ah, no! Paul knew better. His foundation was as stable as the throne of God. Whatever of certainty Christ could afford, that Paul possessed. He, surely, had not abandoned all that this world could give for a doubtful salvation—a doubtful prospect-a doubtful future. Had he done so,. Festus might truly have said, " Paul, thou art beside thyself." We are fully convinced, that, so far as Paul was concerned, from the moment, in which the scales dropped from his eyes in the city of Damascus, until he was offered up in the city of Rome, his heart never once harbored a single doubt, a single fear, a single misgiving. " He was troubled on every side, yet not distressed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed." Yea, in the midst of all his conflict and trouble, he could say, " Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 2 Cor. 4:17.

Paul had no doubts or fears, as to the final issue. Neither should any one, who has truly come to Christ, inasmuch as He Himself has said, " Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out." (John 6:37.) No one, who is really cast upon Christ, will ever be cast away from Him. This is a divine axiom-a fundamental truth-an eternal reality. Christ is responsible for every lamb in the flock. The counsels of God have made Him so-the love of His own heart has made Him so-the Holy Scriptures declare Him to be so. Not one of Christ's blood-bought lambs can ever be lost, not one can ever be cast away. They are all as safe as He can make them-as safe as Himself.

But what, then, does Paul mean when he says, " Lest I myself should be a castaway?" If he does not mean to convey the idea of uncertainty, as to his personal security in Christ, what then docs he mean? I believe the expression applies not to his future prospects, but his present service-not to his heavenly home, but his earthly path-· not to his eternal privileges, but his present responsibilities. Paul was a servant as well as a son; and he exercised himself, and kept his body in subjection, "lest that by any means he might be disapproved of." The body is a good servant, but a bad master; and, if not kept down, will altogether disqualify the servant of Christ for the discharge of his high and holy responsibilities. A person may be a child of God, and yet be "disapproved" as a servant of Christ. To he an efficient servant of Christ involves self-denial, self-judgment, self-emptiness, self-control. I do not become a child of God by these exercises; but, most assuredly, I shall never be a successful servant of Christ without them.

This distinction is very plain and very important. We are too prone to think, that the question of our personal security is the only one of any moment to us. This is a mistake. God has secured that; and He tells us so, in order that, with free hearts, we may run the race, carry on the warfare, fulfill the service We do not run, fight, or work for life; we have gotten life-eternal life, ere we take a single step in the Christian race, strike a blow in the Christian warfare, or perform a single act of Christian service. A dead man could not run a race; but a living man must run "lawfully," else he cannot be crowned. So, also, in reference to the servant of Christ. He must deny himself; he must keep nature down; he must keep his body in subjection, else he will be disapproved of and set aside, as a servant unfit for the Master's work, a vessel not " meet for the Master's use." A true believer can never, by any possibility, lose his relationship to Christ, or the eternal dignities and privileges connected therewith; but he can lose his present meetness for service. He may so act as to be disapproved of as a workman. Solemn thought!

We have, in the person of John Mark, an illustration of the principle laid down in 1 Cor. 9:27. In Acts 13:5 he was counted worthy to be associated with Paul in the ministry. In Acts 15:38 he was disapproved; and in 2 Tim. 4:11 he was again acknowledged as a profitable servant. Now, John was as truly a child of God, a saved person, a believer in Christ, when Paul rejected him as a co-worker, as when he at first acknowledged him, and finally restored him to confidence. In no case was the question of his personal salvation raised. It was altogether a matter of fitness for service. It is very evident, that the influence of natural affection had been allowed to act on John's heart, and to unfit him, in Paul's judgment, for that great work which he, as the steward of Christ, was carrying on.

If my reader will turn to Judg. 7 he will find another example, which strikingly illustrates our principle. What was the great question raised with respect to Gideon's company? Was it as to whether a man was an Israelite- a son of Abraham-a circumcised member of the congregation? By no means. What then? Simply as to whether he was a fit vessel for the service then in hand. And what was it that rendered a man fit for such service? Confidence in God, and self-denial. (See ver. 3 & 6.) Those who were fearful were rejected (v. 3). And those who consulted their own ease were rejected (v. 7). Now, the thirty-one thousand seven hundred, that were rejected, were as truly Israelites as were the three hundred that were approved; but the former were not fit servants, the latter were.

All this is easily understood. There is no difficulty, if the heart be not careful to make difficulties for itself. Many passages of the Word, which are designed to act on the conscience of the servant, are used to alarm the heart of the child; many that are only intended to admonish us, in reference to our responsibility, are used to make us question our relationship.

May the Lord increase in us the grace of a discerning mind, and enable us to distinguish between things that differ, so that while our hearts enter into the sweetness and tranquillizing power of those words, " Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out" our conscience may also feel the solemnity of our position as servants, and recoil from everything that might cause us to be set aside, as an unclean vessel, which the Master cannot take up and use.

May we ever remember that, while as children of God, we are eternally safe, yet as servants of Christ, we may be disapproved of and set aside.

What Wait I For?

Psalm 39:7.

This is a searching question for the heart; but it is oft times a most salutary one, inasmuch as we may constantly detect ourselves in an attitude of waiting for things which, when they come, prove not to be worth waiting for.

The human heart is very much like the poor lame man at the gate of the temple, in Acts 3 He was looking at every passerby, "expecting to receive something:" and the heart will ever be looking out for some relief, some comfort, or some enjoyment, in passing circumstances. It may, ever and anon, be found sitting by the side of some creature-stream, vainly expecting that some refreshment will flow along its channel.

It is amazing to think of the trifles on which nature will, at times, fix its expectant gaze—a change of circumstances—change of scene—change of air—a journey—a visit—a letter—a book—anything, in short, is sufficient to raise expectations in a poor heart which is not finding its center, its spring, its all, in Christ.

Hence the practical importance of frequently turning sharp round upon the heart with the question, " What wait I for?" Doubtless, the true answer to this inquiry would, at times, furnish the most advanced Christian with matter for deep humiliation and self-judgment before the Lord.

In the sixth verse of the thirty-ninth psalm, we have three great types of character, as set forth in the " vain show"—"vain disquietude"—and "heaping up." These types may sometimes be found combined; but very often they have a distinct development.

There are many whose whole life is one " vain show," whether in their personal character, their commercial position, their political or religious profession. There is nothing solid about them—nothing real—nothing true. The glitter is the most shallow gilding possible. There is nothing deep, nothing intrinsic. All is surface work—all the merest flash and smoke.

Then, again, we find another class, whose life is one continued scene of " vain disquietude." You will never find them at ease—never satisfied—never happy. There is always some terrible thing coming—some catastrophe in the distance, the bare anticipation of which keeps them in a constant fever of anxiety. They are troubled about property, about friends, about trade, about children, about servants. Though placed in circumstances which thousands of their fellow-creatures would deem most enviable, they seem to be in a perpetual fret. They harass themselves in reference to troubles that may never come, difficulties they may never encounter, sorrows they may never live to see. Instead of remembering the blessings of the past, and rejoicing in the mercies of the present, they are anticipating the trials and sorrows of the future. In a word, " they are disquieted in vain.

Finally, you will meet another class, quite different from either of the preceding—keen, shrewd, industrious, money-making people—people who would live where others would starve. There is not much " vain show" about them. They are too solid, and life is too practical a reality for anything of that sort. Neither can you say there is much disquietude about them. Theirs is an easy-going, quiet, plodding spirit, or an active, enterprising, speculating turn of mind. " They heap up, and know not who shall gather."

But, reader, remember, on all three alike the Spirit has stamped "vanity." Yes, "all," without any exception, "under the sun," has been pronounced by one who knew it by experience, and wrote it by inspiration, " vanity and vexation of spirit." Turn where you will, " under the sun,'' and you will not find aught on which the heart can rest. You must rise on the steady and vigorous pinion of faith, to regions "above the sun," in order to find "a better and an enduring substance." The One who sits at the right hand of God has said, " I lead in the way of righteousness, in the midst of the paths of judgment: that I may cause them that love me to inherit substance, and I will fill their treasures." (Pro. 8:20, 21.) None but Jesus can give “substance”—none but He can "fill"—none but He can " satisfy." There is that in Christ's perfect work which meets the deepest need of conscience; and there is that in His glorious Person which can satisfy the most earnest longings of the heart. The one who has found Christ on the cross, and Christ on the throne, has found all he can possibly need, for time or eternity.

Well, therefore, might the psalmist, having challenged his heart with the question, " What wait I for?" reply, " My hope is in thee" No " vain show," no " vain disquietude," no " heaping up" for him. He had found an object in God worth waiting for; and, therefore, turning away his eye from all beside, he says, " My hope is in thee."

This, my beloved reader, is the only true, peaceful, and happy position. The soul that leans on, looks to, and waits for, Jesus, will never be disappointed. Such an one possesses an exhaustless fund of present enjoyment in fellowship with Christ; while, at the same time, he is cheered by "that blessed hope" that when this present scene, with all its " vain show," its " vain disquietude," and its vain resources shall have passed away, he shall be with Jesus where He is, to behold His glory, to bask in the light of His countenance, and to be conformed to His image forever.

May we, then, be much in the habit of challenging our earth-bound, creature• seeking hearts, with the searching inquiry, " What wait I for?" Am I waiting for some change of circumstances, or " for the Son from heaven?" Can I look up to Jesus, and, with a full and an honest heart, say, "Lord, my hope is in thee?"

May our hearts be more thoroughly separated from this present evil world and all that pertains thereto, by the power of communion with those things that are unseen and eternal.

" From various cares my heart retires,

Though deep and boundless its desires,

I'm now to please but One;

He before whom the elders bow,

With Him is all my business now,

And with the souls that are His own.

" With these my happy lot is cast,

Through the world's deserts rude and waste,

Or through its gardens fair;

Whether the storms of trouble sweep,

Or all in dead supineness sleep,

Still to go on be my whole care."

The Work of God in the Soul: Part 1

We have from time to time dwelt a good deal, in the pages of " Things New and Old," upon the work of God for us, and, most surely, no theme could possibly be more important or interesting. God's work for us lies at the very foundation of all true practical Christianity and personal religion. The knowledge of what has been accomplished by the atoning death of Christ is essential to the soul's peace and liberty. We cannot too frequently reiterate, or too strongly insist upon the fundamental truth that, " It is the work wrought for us, and not the work wrought in us, that saves us." Nor should we ever forget that, " Faith is the soul's outward, not its inward look."

All this is of the very deepest moment; and the reader may rest assured that nothing is further from our thoughts than to pen a single line which might even tend to lessen its importance. But, as we have observed, this grand and interesting line of truth has been largely unfolded, in all the volumes of this publication; and, therefore, we feel the more free to enter, in this article, upon a subject which ought ever to hold a prominent place in our minds; namely, The work of God in us. May God's Spirit guide our thoughts, as we dwell, for a little, upon this theme!

In tracing the work of the Holy Ghost in the soul of a sinner, there are three distinct things to be noticed. In the first place, He creates a need. In the second place, He reveals an object to meet that need. And, in the third place, He enables the soul to lay hold on that object. These are the three stages of the Spirit's work in the soul and nothing can be more interesting than to trace them. No doubt, there are various other branches of the work of the Holy Ghost, but we now confine ourselves to that special branch which bears upon the individual soul in its passage from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God; and here the first thing we have to notice is

THE NEED CREATED.

This need may develop itself in three ways. In some cases, it takes the form of a deep sense of guilt; in others, a sense of danger; and, in others, a sense of the utter vanity and emptiness of all beneath the sun. Doubtless, in many instances, we may find all three operating.

Let us take an example or two from the pages of inspiration. Look at Peter, by the lake of Gennesaret. (Luke 5) No sooner had a ray of divine light entered his soul, in convicting power, than he exclaims, "Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, Ο Lord." Here we have a sense of guilt—a deep, keen sense of personal sinfulness and unworthiness, the result of a divine operation in the soul of Peter. This is very important. It is well to remember that the question of sin must be raised and settled in the human conscience. Sin is a serious thing in God's judgment, and it must be felt as such in the soul of the sinner. Peter felt he had no right or title to be in the presence of that blessed One whose glory had just shone upon him. He felt himself utterly unfit to be there. He felt that sin and holiness could not be together, any more than light and darkness.

This was a right feeling in Peter; and it is a right feeling in every case. It is always a very good thing to begin with a profound sense of personal guilt. It is well to have the arrow of conviction piercing to the very center of the soul—well to have the plowshare breaking up the fallow ground and making a deep furrow in the heart. We invariably find that the steadiest and most solid Christians are those who have, at the first, gone through the deepest waters, and endured the keenest exercises.

We do not, of course, mean to say that the soul's exercises have anything to do with the ground of the soul's salvation, any more than the feelings of a man in a house on fire have to do with the fire escape by which he descends from the burning pile. But still we believe it is a good thing for the soul to begin with a very clear and full sense of its guilt and ruin—a just apprehension of the judgment of God against sin. The more keenly a man has felt his awful position in the burning house, the more thoroughly will he appreciate the fire escape—the mind that planned it, and the hand that provided it. And so in the case of the sinner; the more he feels his guilt and unworthiness, the more will he prize the precious blood that cancels his guilt, and brings him without spot into the immediate presence of a holy, sin-hating God.

It is to be feared that, in many cases, the work of conviction or repentance is very superficial. It strikes us, too, that at times, in our great anxiety to bring the soul into peace, we interfere with the work of conviction. We go before, in place of following after the Holy Ghost. This is very serious. It is a perilous thing to tamper with God's work in the soul. It is most marvelous grace that deigns to use us; but let us beware of how we run before the Holy Ghost. It is our place to male His operations, not to mar them. If, for example, we meet a soul under conviction of sin, it may be that the work is not yet complete; it may be only in progress. What should we do? Seek to hasten the individual into a confession of faith in Christ—to extract from him an acknowledgment of peace with God? By no means; to do so would be to damage the precious work of God in the soul. What then should we do? Seek to follow in the wake of the Holy Ghost—to be His instrument in carrying on the work which He has in hand. He will assuredly perfect His own work; and if we are waiting on Him, He will teach us what to do, and how to do it; what to say, and when to say it. If Ananias had gone to Saul one hour before the close of the "three days," he would have gone too soon. Those days, we may rest assured, were serious days—days which left their impress on the whole of the apostle's after history—days never to be forgotten. We doubt not they were days during which his eyes—closed upon the external world—were turned inward upon himself, and backward upon his ways. And are we not warranted in asserting that it would have been an injudicious, if not an unallowed intrusion, had Ananias gone to interfere with the deep and holy work which was going on in the soul of that remarkable man? Unquestionably; and so it is in every case. We may depend upon it, that we only injure souls if we attempt to urge them, by our work, one hair's breadth beyond the actual point to which the work of God has conducted them.

All true spiritual ministry will tend to deepen in the soul that special character of work which the Holy Ghost is carrying on at the moment. Hence, if we come in contact with one in whom the work of conviction or repentance is in progress, we should not seek, too hastily, to urge the soul into a confession of having found peace. If we aim at being co-workers with God, it will be our place to watch, with earnest prayer and holy diligence, the progress of the divine work—to wait much on God that He may be pleased to use us as His instruments in carrying out the purposes of His grace. This is most blessed work; but it is most solemn, and demands much spirituality, much nearness to Christ, much self-denial. The most serious mistakes are committed by unskillful hands undert king to deal with cases in which the work of God's Spirit is going on. We must remember that God's work is sometimes very slow; hut it is always very sure. We, on the contrary, are often impetuous; and, in our desire to reach speedy results, we may often unduly hasten on the soul to a professed position far beyond its actual practical state—often urge from the Lips more than the Holy Ghost has wrought in the heart. This is very serious for all who have to deal with souls But then the grace of God is all-sufficient for every case; and nothing can be more profoundly interesting than to watch the unfoldings of the Spirit's work in the soul—to mark the stages of God's new creation—the establishment and progress of His kingdom in the heart. Far be it from us to inculcate or encourage cold heartless indifference as to precious souls, in their deep and varied spiritual exercises—a species of most miserable fatalism, which, under the plea of leaving souls entirely in the bands of the Holy Ghost, in reality throws off all sense of responsibility. God, in His mercy, forbid that we should lend the smallest countenance to aught of this kind. We deeply feel ourselves responsible to care for souls—we believe all Christians are responsible; and hence arises the need of skill and spiritual tact in dealing with souls, so that we may not, in any wise, retard, but by all means further the blessed work of God's Spirit in them.

But we have been rather digressing from our immediate line, to which we shall now return.

We have stated that the Spirit of God sometimes produces in the soul a sense of danger. He presses upon the heart and conscience the awful reality of the lake of fire, and the worm that never dies. He at times sees fit to draw aside the curtain and reveal what awaits all those who die in their sins. No doubt, the sense of guilt and the sense of danger very frequently go together; but they are distinct exercises, and in very many cases the latter is the more prominent of the two. The soul is filled with horror at the thought of burning forever and ever in the flames of hell. The Holy Ghost uses this horror in order to make the heart feel its need of Christ.

Many, we are aware, object to the preaching of everlasting punishment, as a means of leading souls to Christ. Not that they deny the truth on this subject; but they question the propriety or usefulness of it. They deem it wiser to dwell only upon the love of God in giving His Son; and the love of Christ in giving Himself. They judge it better and more effectual to dwell upon the joys and glories of heaven than the woes and horrors of hell. Well, we do not mean, for a moment, to compare the two themes; no intelligent person could think of so doing. But then we must bear in mind that our blessed Lord again and again addressed His hearers on the awful subject of hell fire. Bead Matt. 5:22-30. Three times in this brief passage He warns His hearers against the danger of hell.

So also in that most solemn passage at the close of Luke 16 Who can read this without feeling pressed with the weight and seriousness of the parable? What a presentation of the past, the present, and the future! " Son. remember." Here memory is flung back upon the pant. And what a past! Memory will be terribly active in hell. "But now thou art tormented." Here the lost soul is called to contemplate the present. And what a present! Tormented in the flames of hell! But is there no end—no faint hope of cessation? None whatever. " There is a great gulf fixed." Here is the future. And what a future! Hell is an eternal reality—a fixture. If hell fire be not everlasting, what would be the force of the word " fixed?"

Now, are not the above scriptures quite sufficient to prove that the Holy Ghost uses the truth of everlasting punishment to create a need in the immortal soul? Most surely. And if He does so, should not we? Did not the Apostle Paul reason before Felix, on the subject of judgment to come; and that, too, in such a manner as to make the voluptuary tremble on his throne? Ah! yes; it is a wholesome thing for the soul of a sinner to be impressed with a deep sense of Ids danger of hell. And when we find a soul so impressed what should we do? Should we not seek to deepen the impression? Would it not be our wisdom to follow up what the Holy Ghost is manifestly doing? Truly so. To act otherwise would be to hinder instead of furthering the work of God in the soul. The blessed Spirit will teach us the proper moment in the which to present the divine object to meet the need of the exercised soul. The Master will at the right moment issue the command, " Loose him and let him go." God will do His work, and use us therein, if we wait on Him. All we desire, in penning these lines, is to press upon the reader the reality of God's work in the soul, and the necessity of guarding against anything like undue haste in urging souls beyond, the measure of the Spirit's operation. We should beware of healing the wound slightly, and of crying Peace, where there is no peace, yea, where there is not even true preparedness for that blessed peace which Jesus has made by the blood of His cross, which God proclaims in His word, and which the heart enjoys by faith, through the power of the Holy Ghost.

(To be continued, if the Lord will.)

The Work of God in the Soul: Part 2

Having in our paper for July, glanced at two of those modes in which the Spirit of God works in the soul to produce a sense of need, namely, by convicting the conscience of guilt; and by pressing upon the spirit the just dread of danger; it remains for us to consider a third method which is by giving the heart to feel the utter vanity and unsatisfactoriness of all that this poor world can offer, in the way of pleasure or enjoyment.

This is, by no means, uncommon. We may frequently meet with very matured Christians who will tell you that they were brought to Christ, not so much by a sense of guilt, or a dread of danger, as by an intense longing after a certain indefinable something—a painful void in the heart—a sense of weariness, loneliness, and desolation. They felt a blank which nothing in this world could fill. They were heart-sick and disappointed. No doubt, they felt and acknowledged the broad truth that they were sinners; and, moreover, when they looked in the direction of the future they felt that there was, and could be, nothing for them but eternal misery and torment. But then the great prominent feature of the divine work in them was not so much conviction of sin or a fear of punishment, as a feeling of utter desolation and dissatisfaction. They found themselves in that condition of soul in which the study of the book of Ecclesiastes afforded a melancholy gratification. They had tried the world, in every shape and form, and, like the royal Preacher, had found it to be " vanity and vexation of spirit."

Now, we must be prepared for tins variety in the ways of the Spirit of God. We are not to suppose that He will confine Himself, in His blessed operations, to any one particular type. Sometimes He produces, in the soul, the most overwhelming sense of guilt, so that the heart is crashed to the earth, and nothing is felt, seen, or thought of, but the vileness, the heinousness, and the blackness of sin. The dark catalog of sins rises like a great mountain before the vision of the soul, and well nigh sinks it into despair. The soul refuses to he comforted. Shame and confusion, sackcloth and ashes, arc felt to be the only suited portion of the guilty one.

At other times, God sees fit to bring before the soul the terrors of hell, and the awful reality of spending an eternity in that region of unutterable gloom and misery. The dark shadow of the future is made to fall upon the brightest scenes of the present; and the thought of the wrath to come so presses upon the heart, that nothing seems to yield the smallest relief or comfort. All is deep, deep gloom and horror.

And, finally, as we have said, in other cases, the divine Worker is pleased to awaken the soul to the painful discovery and consciousness that it is not within the compass of earth to furnish a satisfying portion for an immortal spirit; that all under the sun wears the stamp of death upon it; that human life is but a vapor that speedily vanishes away; that if a man were to live a thousand years twice told—were he to possess the wealth of the universe—could he concentrate in his Ολνη person all the honors and all the dignities which this world could bestow—were he at the very highest pinnacle of power—were he renowned, throughout the wide wide world, for genius, for intellect, and for moral worth; in a word, had he all that earth could yield or mortal man possess, the heart would still want something, there would still be a painful void, there would still be the cry, " Oh! for an object."

Thus varied arc the operations of the Spirit of God in the souls of men. No doubt, there may be a sense of guilt, a fear of danger, and a painful consciousness of the emptiness and vanity of all earthly possesses and enjoyments, altogether apart from any divine work in the soul; but we are now occupied only with this latter; and we feel the deep importance of being able to discern and appreciate the work of God's Spirit in the human heart, as also of seeking to help it on. We greatly dread anything like human interference with the progress of the kingdom of God in the soul. There is danger on all sides. There is danger of casting a damp on young converts; and there is danger of mistaking the mere workings of nature for the action of the Spirit of God. Nor is this all. We are frequently in danger of running directly counter to the object which the Lord has in view in His dealings with the soul. We may, for example, be actually seeking to extract the arrow which He is sending home to the very center of the soul: we may be seeking to cover up a wound which He would have probed to the very bottom.

All these things demand the utmost vigilance and care on the part of those who take an interest in souls. We are, all of us, liable to make the most serious mistakes, either in the way of discouraging and repulsing souls that ought rather to be fostered and cheered; or, on the other hand, of recognizing and accrediting as of God what is merely the fruit of religious nature working. In short, it is a serious thing to put our hands to the work of God, in any way; and He alone can give the needed wisdom and grace in each case as it arises. And He will, blessed be His name, give abundantly to all who simply wait on Him. " He giveth more grace." Precious word! There is absolutely no limit to it. It shines, as an exhaustless motto, on our Father's treasury door, assuring us of the most ample supply " for exigence of every hour."

Let us not, therefore, be discouraged by the magnitude and seriousness? of the work, or the danger attending it. God is sufficient. The work is His; and if He deigns, in His marvelous grace, to use us—as He surely does—as His co-workers, He will liberally furnish us with all that is needed for each case as it arises. But we must wait on Him—wait patiently—wait humbly—wait trustfully. We must seek to lay self aside, with its bustling self-importance and excitement. We must seek, through grace, to get rid of that spirit which would be continually thrusting forward that wretched "I, I, I." In a word, nature must be kept in the shade, and Christ alone exalted. Then, assuredly, the Spirit of God will use us in the glorious work which He is carrying on in souls. He will give us the needed skill and ability for each specific case; and lead us, in adoring wonder, along that path in which He is moving, and in which, too, He is displaying the precious mysteries of His new creation.

Nothing can be more wonderful, nothing more intensely interesting, than to mark the progress of the work of God in the soul. One of our own poets has given expression to this when he says

" This is my joy that ne'er can fail,

To see my Savior's arm prevail,

To mark the steps of grace:

Now new born souls convinced of sin,

His blood revealed to them within,

Extol the Lamb in every place."

But, we may rest assured, hi order to discern and appreciate—to say nothing of co-operating in—this most precious and sacred work, there must be the anointed eye, the circumcised heart, the unshod foot, the clean hands. The Spirit of God is very sensitive, very easily grieved, quenched, and hindered. He does not like to have a noise made about His work. We have, more than once, seen the work of the Holy Ghost interrupted altogether by reason of the unhallowed excitement of those who were engaged in it.

It is well to remember this. If it be true—and it is true—that unbelief hinders the commencing of the Spirit's work; it is equally true that undue interference hinders its progress. The slightest impress of the human finger is apt to soil the mysterious and beautiful work of God. True it is—blessedly true—that the Lord will use us, if we really look to Him, in humility of mind and self-emptiness. Indeed, we constantly find that, in carrying on His work, He allows us to do just as much as we can do; while He Himself—adored be His holy Name!—only does what we cannot. This is strikingly illustrated in the scene at the tomb of Lazarus, in John 11 There the Lord commands those around Him to " take away the stone;" just because it was something they could do. But it is He who cries, " Lazarus, come forth;" because this was something which only He could do. Then again, He says, " Loose him, and let him go;" thus allowing them to co-operate so far as they were able.

Now, it strikes us that we have, in all this, a sample of the Lord's gracious way with His servants. In every little thing in which He can use them He does. But oh! let us be careful not to meddle with His work. Let it be ours to gaze and worship, to mark the marvelous unfoldings of that new creation in which " all things are of God." His work shall endure throughout all generations. All that which bears the stamp of His hand shall abide forever. Hence, therefore, it is our wisdom, as well as our blessing, just to mark His hand and follow where He leads.

(To be continued, if the Lord will.)

Carry on Thy new creation -

Faithful, holy, may we be,

Joyful in Thy full salvation,

More and more conformed to Thee.

Changed from glory into glory,

Till in heaven we take our place,

Then to worship and adore Thee,

Lost in wonder, love, and praise

The Work of God in the Soul: Part 3

Before entering upon the second division of our subject, we feel constrained to put a pointed question or two to the reader. We trust he will bear with us in so doing. We are aware that some persons do not like close, personal dealing. They prefer the simple unfolding of truth and leaving it to do its own work. Well, we, too, value the unfolding of divine truth; and we know that the Holy Ghost alone can apply the truth, in saving or edifying power, to the heart and conscience of the reader or the hearer.

But, on the other hand, we believe it to be the bounden duty of the writer or speaker to do his very utmost, in the way of appeal, exhortation, and pointed inquiry, to affect the heart, reach the conscience, and enlighten the understanding of his reader or hearer. We must remember that we have a double duty to perform; we have to unfold truth; and we have to deal with the soul. All preachers, teachers, and writers should ever keep this in the remembrance of the thoughts of then hearts. If a man occupies himself only with abstract truth, his ministry is apt to prove unpractical and unfruitful. If he occupies himself only with the souls, his ministry will prove unfurnished and uninteresting. If he occupies himself duly with both, he will prove " a good minister of Jesus Christ."

Hence, therefore, beloved reader, we feel that we should be leaving one half of our work undone, did we not, from time to time, turn from our subject, in order to make an earnest appeal to thee; and we would, now, earnestly entreat of thee, as in the immediate presence of Him with whom we have to do, to give thy undivided attention to the following question. Be honest with thyself—be earnest—be real, and rest assured that God will bless thee.

Hast thou, then, dear friend, been led to feel thy need? Has the Spirit of God wrought hi thy heart to produce a sense of guilt, a dread of judgment, or a consciousness of the utter vanity of all under the sun? Canst thou say from thy very heart, " Woo is me! for I am undone"—"Behold, I am vile"—"I am black"—"I am a sinful man?'' All these are distinct utterances of men like thyself—men of like passions—but of men under the quickening visitation of the Holy Ghost, and the convicting action of the truth of God. Be assured of it, they are good words, the fruit of most precious exercises in the soul—such exercises as we delight to sec. It is a grand thing to see the soul thoroughly broken down before God, thoroughly sensible of its lost and ruined condition, of its deep guilt, and of its exposure to the just judgment and wrath of a holy, sin-hating God. It was no mere surface work with Job, Isaiah, or Peter, when they gave utterance to the words which we have just transcribed. The plowshare had entered the very depths of the soul. The whole moral being was permeated by the light of divine holiness. The arrow of conviction had pierced to the very center of the heart. It was real work. Not one of those beloved saints of God could have rested in the flippant wordy confession of the fact that "we are all sinners." No mere empty generalities would do for them. All was deep, real, and personal. They were hi the presence of God, and this is always a real and a solemn matter.

Now we would here distinctly state, once for all, that the exercises of the soul have nothing to do with the ground of salvation or peace. We cannot possibly be too simple and clear as to this. Job did not rest in his own utterance "Behold, I am vile;" but in God's declaration, "I have found a ransom." Isaiah did not build upon a " Woe is mc!" but upon " Tins hath touched, thy lips." Peter did not find relief in Ms own exclamation, "I am a sinful man;" but upon those two sweet and soothing words of Jesus, " Fear not."

All this is most true. Far from us be the thought of lead-mg any soul to build upon its exercises, how deep, real, and spiritual soever such exercises may be. No, we must build only and altogether on Christ. " Thus saith the Lord God, Behold, I lay hi Zion for a foundation a stone, a tried stone, ft precious corner stone, a sure foundation: he that believeth shall not make haste." (Isa. 28:10.) This " stone" is not an exercise of any sort. It is not even the work of the Holy Ghost, essential as that is. It is not even the Holy Ghost Himself. It is the One to which the Holy Ghost ever delights to bear witness, even Christ who is the "tried," the "precious," the "sure foundation," who died for our sins, according to the scriptures, and rose Again for our justification, according to the scriptures.

Still, while we not only fully admit, but earnestly and constantly insist upon all this, we must, nevertheless, be allowed to give expression to our deep and ever deepening sense of the value of a profound work of the Spirit of God in the soul. We fear there is an appalling amount of unbroken material to be found in the ranks of christian profession; a quantity of truth floating about, as so much unpractical and uninfluential theory, in the region of the intellect; a large amount of mental traffic in unfelt truth; a great deal of what is awfully unreal. We question if, in very many cases—alas! alas! how many!—the head is not far in advance of the heart—the mind more at work than the conscience. This is the secret of much of the unreality, the hollowness, and the inconsistency so grievous to contemplate. We are convinced of this; and hence it is that we so earnestly desire to deal faithfully with the heart and conscience of the reader. He need not be the least afraid to look this weighty matter straight in the face. Let him not be afraid of the knife. Let him beware of mere intellectualism, which, we feel persuaded, is doing more than we are aware of to bring about the temporary reign of superstition and infidelity.

We shall now proceed, in the second place, to consider for a few moments

THE OBJECT UNFOLDED.

And, inasmuch as pointed reference has already been made to Isaiah and Peter—a prophet of the Old Testament times, and an apostle of the New, we can hardly do better than to look at the mode in which our thesis is illustrated in the history of these two remarkable men. And, first, let us contemplate the case of Isaiah the prophet. We have seen, in his case, how the need was created; let us now consider how the object was revealed.

No sooner had the convicted soul given utterance to the cry, " Woe is me! for I am undone," than the angelic messenger was dispatched, with all the earnestness and energy of divine love, from the very throne of the eternal thrice holy Jehovah. "Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a live coal in Ins hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar: and he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, tins hath touched thy lips, and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged." Isa. 6:6, 7.

Now, there are two things, in the foregoing quotation, demanding our attention, namely, first, the substance, and, secondly, the style of the action recorded. The substance is the thing that was done; the style is the way of doing it. The prophet had been led to see himself in the light which emanated from the throne of God. This was a serious moment. It could not possibly be otherwise. It is deeply solemn to be brought to the discovery of what we are, as in the presence of God. When so brought, nothing but divine provision can meet our need—nothing but a divine object can satisfy the heart. Had Isaiah seen only the throne, his condition would have been hopeless. But there was the altar as well, and here lay the secret of life and salvation for him as for every other convicted and self-destroyed sinner. If the throne had its claims, the altar had its provision. The one stood over against the other—two prominent figures in this most sublime vision—two grand realities in the glorious economy of divine grace. The light of the throne revealed the sinner's guilt; the grace of the altar removed it.

And, most assuredly, nothing else could have done for Isaiah—nothing else for the reader. It must be this in every case. The measure may vary; but the great fact is the same always. "Woe is me!" and " This hath touched thy lips," must go together. The former is the effect of the throne; the latter, the fruit of the altar. That is the need created; this, the object revealed. Nothing can be more simple, nothing more blessed. It is only the One who creates the need that can unfold the object to meet it; the former He does by the action of truth; the latter, by the provision of grace.

" This hath touched thy lips." Mark the words, reader! Note them carefully. See that you understand their force, their meaning, and their application to thyself. "This"—what is it? It is the provision—the rich, ample, perfect provision of divine grace. It has wrapped up in its comprehensive folds all that a poor guilty, hell-deserving, broken-hearted sinner can need to meet his guilt and ruin. It is not anything from within, but something from without. It is not a process—it is not an exercise—it is not a feeling; it is a divine provision to meet the sinner's deepest need, to remove his guilt, to hush his fears, to save his soul. All was contained in that mysterious "live coal from off the altar."

We may have occasion to recur to this scene again, in connection with the last point in our subject, namely, the soul's taking hold of the object. We shall, here, just refer, for a moment, to the style of that wonderful action which spoke peace to the troubled soul of Isaiah. There is no one who is not conscious of the immense power of style over the heart. Indeed, we may almost say that the style of an action is more influential than the substance. And is it not most blessed to know that our God has His own peculiar style? Truly so. Adored forever be His holy Name, He not only meets our need, but He does it in such a way as to let us know, without a shadow of a doubt, that " His whole heart and his whole soul" are in the act. He not only pardons our sins, but does it after such a fashion as to convince our souls that it is His own richest joy to do it.

Now, it seems to us that the style of the divine action, in Isa. 6 shines forth in that little word 'flew." It is as though God was in haste to apply the divine balm to a wounded spirit. Not a moment was to be lost. That bitter cry, " Woe is me!" coming forth, as it did, from the very depths of a sinner's broken heart, had gone straight up to the very ear and the very heart of God; and, with the intense rapidity of a seraph's wing, must a divine response be sent from the sanctuary of God to purge the convicted conscience and tranquillize the troubled heart.

Such is the way of our God—such the manner of His love—such the style of His grace. He not only saves us, but He does it in such a way as to assure our hearts that it makes Him far happier to save us than it makes us to he saved. The poor legal, doubting, reasoning heart may oft times be full of fear as to how God will deal with us. Spite of all the precious assurances of His love, all the proofs of His mercy and goodness, all the pledges of His readiness to save and bless, still the heart doubts and hangs back; still it refuses to listen to that voice of love uttering itself in ten thousand touching and eloquent strains; still it proves its readiness to lend a willing ear to the dark suggestions of the arch enemy—to its own wretched reasonings—to anything and everything, in short, but the whispers of divine love. In vain does a Savior God stand before the sinner, beseeching him to come; in vain does He open His very heart to the sinner's view, " showing his thoughts how kind they be;" in vain He points to the sacrifice of His own providing—the Lamb of His free giving—the Son of His bosom—still the heart will harbor its dark and depressing suspicions—it will not give God credit for love so full so free—it will not admit that God delights to save, delights to bless, delights to make us happy.

Oh! beloved reader, say, art thou a doubter? Dost thou still hang back? Dost thou still continue to wrong and wound that deep, tender, marvelous love of God that stopped not short of giving His only begotten Son from His bosom, and bruising Him on Calvary's cursed tree? Why, oh why, dost thou hesitate? What art thou waiting for? What more dost thou want? Say not, we beseech thee, "I cannot believe. I would if I could; but I cannot. I am waiting for power." Hear these words, " If we receive the testimony of man, the testimony of God is greater." Hast thou not, many a time, received the testimony, the record, the witness of man? If thou wert to tell a fellow mortal that thou couldst not believe him, what would he say to thee? Would he not tell thee thou wert giving him the lie? Wilt they make God a liar? Thou hast done it long enough. Do it no longer, we beseech thee; but come now, just as thou art, and behold the manner of the love of God—its substance and its style. Come now, with all your guilt, all your wretchedness, all your misery, all your need, and thou wilt find, in that object which God unfolds in His word, all you can need for time and eternity; and not only so, but you will receive a welcome as hearty as the God of all grace can give—Do come!

(To he concluded in our next, if the Lord will.)

The Work of God in the Soul: Part 4

Fob further illustration of our theme, we may refer, for a moment, to the case of Peter, at the lake of Gennesaret, as recorded in the opening paragraph of the fifth of Luke. He, too, like the prophet Isaiah, was made to feel his need—his deep, deep need. The same convicting light which had entered the soul of the prophet, here penetrates the heart of the future apostle, and elicits those earnest words, " Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, Ο Lord."

Here we have the need created, the sense of guilt produced. But mark, in passing, the strange yet lovely inconsistency! Peter has not the least idea of making his escape from the light which had shone upon him; nay, he actually draws nearer and nearer to it. He felt he had no right to be there, and yet he would not, for worlds, be anywhere else. And why? Because, mingled with that powerful convicting light, there was the equally powerful converting grace which irresistibly drew the heart of the " sinful man" toward itself. " Grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." " And we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth." (John 1) What could be more suited to a man full of sin, than a Savior full of grace? Surely nothing and no one; for albeit that blessed Savior was full of truth likewise—and truth puts everything and every one in the right place—yet the grace was amply sufficient to meet all the need which the truth revealed; and hence, although the poor convicted sinner" cries out, "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, Ο Lord," he nevertheless feels that the only place for him is " at Jesus' knees."

Now, we may remark, here, that it is ever thus, hi cases of true conviction. In every instance in winch the genuine work of God's Spirit is wrought in the soul, we notice more or less of what we have ventured to designate this strange vet lovely inconsistency—this seeming contradiction—the striking phenomenon of a sinner confessing his utter unfitness to be in the presence of a holy God, and yet having a certain inward consciousness that it is the only place he can be in.

This is very beautiful, and touchingly interesting. It is the sure evidence of the work of God in the soul. There is the profound sense of sinfulness and guilt, and yet that marvelous and mysterious clinging of the heart to the One whose moral glory has humbled us in the dust. " Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, Ο Lord." But where were these glowing words uttered? At the knees of a Savior-God. Blessed place! Did Peter imagine that Jesus was going to depart from him? Did he really think that the gracious One who had deigned to make use of his ship, and then given him such a miraculous draft of fish, would leave him in the depth of his misery? We do not and cannot believe it. Ah! no; the Spirit of God, in His most precious operations in the soul, always combines these two elements, namely, the consciousness of utter un-worthiness, and an earnest clinging to, and breathing after Christ. The former is conviction; the latter conversion. By that, the furrow is made; by this, the seed deposited. In short, it is the need created, and the object revealed. The two things go together. As in the case of Isaiah, " Woe is me! "is instantly followed by " This hath touched thy lips;" so in the case of Peter, "Depart from me" is followed by the gracious words, " Fear not."

This is divine. The object revealed is perfectly adequate to meet the need created. It must be so, because the creation of the need, and the unfolding of the object, are both operations of one and the selfsame Spirit. And not only so, but the object so unfolded is found to be adequate to meet all the claims of God Himself, and therefore it must be adequate to meet all the claims of the convicted and exercised soul. If God is satisfied with the Person and work of Christ, we may well be so likewise. How did Isaiah learn that he was undone? By light from on high. How did he learn that his sin was purged? By grace from on high. The selfsame revelation that showed him Ms guilt showed him also that his guilt was gone. He rested upon the testimony of God, and not upon Ms own feelings, frames, or notions. If at the close of the sublime scene recorded in chapter vi., any one had asked Isaiah, " How do you know that your sin is purged?" what would have been his reply? Would he have said, " I feel it is so?" We believe not. We are persuaded that this man of God rested upon something for better, far deeper, far more solid, than any mere feeling of Ms own mind. Doubtless he did feel. But why? Just because he did not make feeling the ground of his faith, but faith the ground of Ms feeling, and divine revelation the ground of Ms faith.

Such is the divine order, an order, alas! so constantly reversed, to the serious damage of souls, the subversion of their peace, and the dishonor of their Lord. When we turn to scripture—when we examine the various cases which it records for our learning, we invariably find the order to be, first, the word; secondly, faith; thirdly, feeling. On the other hand, when we turn to the history of souls, now-a-days, when we examine their exercises and experiences, we constantly find that they begin with their feelings, and, as a consequence, they rarely enjoy a right sense of the nature and foundation of true christian faith.

All this is greatly to be deplored. It claims the earnest attention of those who take an interest in souls, and are called to watch the progress of the work of God therein. It is of the very last importance to lead all exercised souls to the sure foundation of holy scripture, and to teach them that faith is simply taking God at His word; it is believing what He says, not because we feel it, but because He says it. To believe because we feel, would not be faith in God's word at all, but faith in our own feelings, which is a worthless faith that will not stand for a moment in the presence of the enemy. The word of God is settled forever in heaven. " He has magnified his word above all Ids name." This is the solid foundation of christian faith. True, it is by the Holy Ghost that the soul is led to rest on this foundation; but the foundation is scripture, and scripture alone. It is not feelings, frames, or experiences, but the plain testimony of holy scripture. " Christ died for our sins, according to the scriptures; he was buried, and rose again the third day, according to the scriptures." Here lies the true foundation of christian faith—yea, of faith in all ages. Abraham believed God, and thus he found rest for his soul. So with Isaiah, so with Peter, so with all. Patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and saints of every age, every condition, and every clime rested upon the stable rock of divine revelation; and if the reader will only do the same, he will possess a peace which no power of earth or hell can ever disturb.

But we must draw this series of papers to a close, and this we shall do by a very brief reference, in the third and last place, to

THE OBJECT LAID HOLD OF.

We may be all the more brief on this point, as a good deal has already been said which, to a certain extent, bears upon it. But we would specially call attention to the practical results which are sure to follow, in some degree, hi every case in which the soul lays hold of Christ. Our two examples, Isaiah and Peter, will serve us here as well as in the other branches of our subject.

No sooner was Isaiah's need met—his guilt purged, than we see in him a whole-hearted consecration of himself to God and His service which may well stir the very depths of the soul, and humble us too at the thought of how little we imitate him therein. No sooner does he hear that Jehovah wants a messenger, than the ready response comes forth from his heart and expresses itself in those ardent accents, "Here am I; send me." He was ready now to go forth in service to the One who had made Mm see his own ruin, and revealed also the divine remedy. The order is perfectly beautiful. We have, first, " Woe is me:" secondly, " This hath touched thy lips;" and, thirdly, " Here am I."

So also, in Peter's case, we have precisely the same lovely moral order, his "Depart from me" is followed by Christ's " Fear not." And then the practical result follows, "He forsook all, and followed him." This, truly, was a laying hold of the object. Peter evidently felt at this moment that Christ was worthy of all he was and all he had. In the early bloom of divine life in his soul, all was readily let go, secular occupations, however right in themselves, natural ties, however important, are all surrendered for the one absorbing object which had been revealed to, and laid hold of by, his new-born and emancipated soul. Christ was more to Peter than boats and nets, father and mother, sisters and brothers.

He forsook all. Nor was it difficult, in the verdure and freshness of first love, to let go those natural ties and occupations. The difficulty, at such a seraphic moment, would be to retain them, or cling to them. Alas! that we should ever have been called to hear from Peter's lips such words as these, " I go a fishing;" and that too after three years of marvelous companionship with that blessed One who had once commanded his whole moral being, and drawn him off from all earthly cares and natural relationships.

But we shall not, now, dwell upon this painful and humbling theme. We shall think of Peter at the lake of Gennesaret; we shall dwell upon the moments of his first love—those charming moments when Peter could, without reserve, say, " Jesus, my all in all thou art." This is what we all want to look to. We want to understand the real secret—the mighty moral power—the true motive spring of all genuine devotedness and personal consecration. We want to bend our whole attention to this question, " How can I be most effectually drawn off from all those things which so readily and powerfully attract this vagrant volatile heart of mine?" What is the answer? Simply this—" Keep the heart fixed on Christ, filled with Christ, dedicated to Christ. Nothing else will do. Rules and regulations will not do; vows and resolutions will not avail. It must be ' The expulsive power of a new affection.'"

This is the grand desideratum—the special lack of our souls—the only effectual preservative against the ten thousand fascinations and allurements of the scene through which we are passing. The moment we begin to ask, " What harm is there in this or that?" it is all up with personal devotedness. Decline has set in, our hearts have got away from Christ. Peter, at the lake of Gennesaret, never thought of asking " What harm is there in fishing? What sin is there in boats and nets? Why should I not tarry with my father and friends?" There was no harm in fishing, nothing sinful in boats and nets, looked at in themselves. But why did Peter give them up? Because he was called to something better. He abandoned the inferior because he had laid hold of the superior. And we may rest assured of this that if ever Peter returned to the inferior again, it was only because the superior had, for the moment, lost its power over his heart.

But here we must pause. We had no intention of dwelling at such length upon the subject of " The work of God in the soul;" but we have found it intensely interesting, and we fondly hope it has not been wholly without profit to the reader.

Rom. 5:1-11, is what God is in love to the sinner. Chapter viii. is the condition of the believer with God' Would you not like to feel better in yourself? That is "I."

A Workman's Motto

" Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, immoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord." 1 Cor. 15:58.

Here we have an uncommonly fine motto for the christian workman—and every Christian ought to be a workman. It presents a most valuable balance for the heart. We have immoveable stability linked with unceasing activity.

This is of the utmost possible importance. There are some of us such sticklers for what we call principle that we seem almost afraid to embark in any scheme of large-hearted christian activity. And, on the other hand, some of us are so bent on what we call service, that in order to reach desired ends, and realize palpable results, we do not hesitate to overstep the boundary line of sound principle.

Now, our motto supplies a divine antidote for both these evils. It furnishes a solid basis on which we are to stand with steadfast purpose and immoveable decision. We are not to be moved the breadth of a hair from the narrow path of divine truth, though tempted to do so by the most forcible argument of a plausible expediency. " To obey is better than sacrifice; and to hearken, than the fat of rams."

Noble words! may they be engraved, in characters deep and broad, on every workman's heart. They are absolutely invaluable; and particularly so in this our own day, when there is such willfulness in our mode of working, such erratic schemes of service, such self-pleasing, such a strong tendency to do that which is right in our own eyes, such a practical ignoring of the supreme authority of holy scripture.

It fills the thoughtful observer of the present condition of things with the very gravest apprehensions to mark the positive and deliberate throwing aside of the word of God, even by those who professedly admit it to be the word of God. We speak not now of the insolence of open and avowed infidelity; but of the heartless indifference of respectable orthodoxy. There are thousands, nay millions, who profess to believe that the Bible is the word of God, who, nevertheless, have not the smallest idea of submitting themselves absolutely to its authority. The human will is dominant. Human reason bears sway. Expediency commands the heart. The holy principles of divine revelation are swept away like autumn leaves, or the dust of the threshingfloor, before the vehement blast of popular opinion.

How immensely valuable and important, in view of all this, is the first part of our workman's motto! " Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast and immoveable" The "therefore" throws the soul back upon the solid foundation laid in the previous part of the chapter in which the apostle unfolds the most sublime and precious truth that can possibly engage the Christian's heart—truth which lifts the soul completely above the dark and chilling mists of the old creation, and plants it on the solid rock of resurrection. It is on this rock we are exhorted to be steadfast and immoveable. It is not an obstinate adherence to our own notions—to some favorite dogma or theory which we have adopted—or to any special school of doctrine, high or low. It is not aught of this kind; but a firm grasp and faithful confession of the whole truth of God of which a risen Christ is the everlasting center.

But then we have to remember the other side of our motto. The christian workman has something more to do than to stand firmly on the ground of truth. He has to cultivate the lovely activities of grace. He is called to be " always abounding in the work of the Lord." The basis of sound principle must never be abandoned; but the work of the Lord must be diligently carried on. There are some who are so afraid of doing mischief that they do nothing; and others, who rather than not be doing something will do wrong. Our motto corrects both. It teaches us to set our faces as a flint, where truth is, in any wise, involved; while on the other hand, it leads us to go forth, in largeness of heart, and throw all our energies into the work of the Lord.

And let the christian reader specially note the expression, " The work of the Lord" We are not to imagine for a moment that all that which engages the energies of professing Christians is entitled to be designated " the work of the Lord." Alas! alas! far from it. We see a mass of things undertaken as service for the Lord with which a spiritual person could not possibly connect the holy name of Christ. We do not attempt to go into details; but we do desire to have the conscience exercised as to the work in which we embark. We deeply feel how needful it is in this day of willfulness, laxity, and wild latitudinarianism, to own the authority of Christ in all that we put our hands to in the way of work or service. Blessed be His name, He permits us to connect Him with the most trivial and commonplace activities of daily life. We can even eat and drink in His holy name, and to His glory. The sphere of service is wide enough, most surely; it is only limited by that weighty clause, " The work of the Lord." The christian workman must not engage in any work which does not range itself under that most holy and all-important head. He must, ere he enters upon any service, ask himself this great practical question, " Can this honestly be called ' the work of the Lord?'"

A Fragment on Worship

It is deeply important that the christian reader should understand the true character of the worship God looks for, and in which He delights. God delights in Christ; and hence it should be our constant aim to present Him to God. Christ should ever be the material of our worship, and He will be, in proportion as we are led by the Holy Ghost. How often, alas! it is otherwise with us the heart can tell. Both in the assembly and in the closet, how often is the tone low, and the spirit dull and heavy! We are occupied with self instead of with Christ; and the Holy Ghost, instead of being free to do His own proper work—which is to take of the things of Christ and show them unto us—is obliged to occupy us with ourselves, in self-judgment, because our ways have not been right.

All this is to be deeply deplored. It demands our serious attention, both as assemblies and as individuals, in our public reunions and in our private devotions. Why is the tone of our public meetings frequently so low? Why such feebleness, such barrenness, such wandering? Why are the hymns and prayers so often wide of the true mark? Why is there so little that really deserves the name of worship? Why is there so little in our midst to refresh the heart of God?—so little that He can speak of as " My bread for my sacrifices made by fire, for a sweet savor unto me?" We are occupied with self and its surroundings—our wants, our weakness, our trials, our difficulties; and we leave God without the bread of His sacrifice. We actually rob Him of His due, and of that which His loving heart desires.

Courtesy of BibleTruthPublishers.com. Most likely this text has not been proofread. Any suggestions for spelling or punctuation corrections would be warmly received. Please email them to: BTPmail@bibletruthpublishers.com.

Short Papers

Short Papers [Hardback]

Table of Contents

Accepted and Acceptable

The Alabaster Box: Part 1

The Alabaster Box: Part 2

Authority and Power

The Book and the Soul

The Brazen Sea

Christ and His Yoke

Cloven Tongues

David's Last Words

David's Three Attitudes

Dead to the Law

Devotedness: What Is It? Part 1

Devotedness: What Is It? Part 2

Devotedness: What Is It? Part 3

The Divine Anathema

An Earnest Appeal

A Few Comments on Epaphroditus

Exhortation

Five Words

Four Points of Knowledge

Gain to Me

God Preaching Peace

Grace and Holiness

The Grapes of Eshcol

Have Faith in God

He From Within

Headship and Lordship

A Heart for Christ

If the Lord Tarry

Isolation

Israel and the Nations

John the Baptist

Jonathan

The Judgment Seat of Christ

The Law and the Gospel

Let Us Go Again

Loops of Blue

The Closing Scenes of Malachi and Jude: A Comparison of Last Days

A Motto for the Year 1872

Nevertheless

Obedience and Dependence Are Necessary: Old Prophets and Evidence Deceive

Peter on the Water

Preaching Christ: What Is It? Part 1

Preaching Christ: What Is It? Part 2

Preaching Christ: What Is It? Part 3

The Priest's Place and Portion

Privilege and Responsibility

A Letter to a Friend on the Study of the Book of Psalms

Reason and Revelation

Reconciled and Saved: Part 1

Reconciled and Saved: Part 2

Relief for a Burdened Heart

Responsibility and Power

Restoration

Resurrection

Rivers of Living Water

Self-Denial

Self-Emptiness

Self-Judgment: A Needed and Wholesome Exercise

Self-Surrender: Part 1

Self-Surrender: Part 2

Separation: Not Fusion

A Sleepless Night

Stability and Peace

Stephen

Superstition and Infidelity

Three Precious Gifts

The Two Altars

Two Impossibles: Part 1

Two Impossibles: Part 2

The Two Links: Part 1

The Two Links: Part 2

The Two Mites

The Well of Bethlehem

What Is a Castaway?

What Wait I For?

The Work of God in the Soul: Part 1